Weaving - Creatures in Cages

Lora patted his forehead dry once more. His dehydration was worsening, so there wasn’t much to wipe away. Was he going to die? Please. Please hold on. It was all she could do. Wipe his face, try to get him to drink water, and hope. Hope. Faith in this old, tired man had gotten them so close to salvation against every odd, he couldn’t abandon them now. Could he? She could hear the guards banging on the bars nearby. Fuck. Luckily Rubic’s hot-headed, argumentative responses were more than up to the task of distraction. They’d almost turned him over when they first found him collapsed. They had feared he was sick, hoping for the guards to be kind enough to send a doctor. One of many, small hopes. But when Ronan had tried to lift him to the edge of the cells, his hand had shot out feverishly.

“No. Secret.” The only two words they had gotten from him in the last few days.

 The guards wanted to know what was wrong with him. Or at least they had been instructed to ask. They seemed scared. A fear of catching whatever the prisoner had? Apathy? Whatever the fear, it was lucky they hadn’t removed him yet.

Lora didn’t think it was sickness anymore. At least she was mostly sure. His old eyes were frantic behind their lids like he was dreaming. She loved him. Perhaps in another life, they had found peace. Romance. A life where they weren’t born on the fringes. One where they weren’t shunned from the temples, and treated like lesser animals. An existence that didn’t consist of hiding world-changing secrets, and running from the law. A life where they were not merely creatures in cages. Forgotten. No, removed by society so the world didn’t have to look at them.

“Dai-” His dry mouth suddenly open, trying to form words.

“Wh- What, what is it?” She clutched his hand, desperate for a sliver of hope.

“Damien Ikas.”