Frigedæg Fallout

The silence threatened to drive Dreana further into madness. Three sides of stone and iron wrought bars were her only current companions that were both so dirty they looked nearly black. The floor was sticky on her bare feet, the rust on the bars had turned her hands a muddy red, and the grit in her barely healed wounds on her face stung like bees. The most comforting thing about the darkness was the sound of her son, crying and uncomfortable, but close and well enough to cry out. As much as his cries tore her apart, his silence drove her nearly insane. As her son’s cries filled the emptiness once again, Dreana began to sing. She knew the song would comfort him and she would once again descend into silence as he listened, perhaps even fall into a light sleep, but she couldn’t help but try and ease his sadness even if it meant her own anguish enveloping her again. This push and pull of emotion took so much out of her that she didn’t have the energy to figure out the how, or the why, she ended up locked away into the darkest recesses of Devuh. Dreana pulled the over-sized burlap coverings tighter around her, ignoring the scraping of the material against her skin, and continued to softly sing even after the crying of her baby faded away.

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