Brigid has not had it easy by any means of the imagination - a destitute childhood on the streets, living under the roof of an abusive master, and most recently incarcerated on trumped up charges. If there is one thing young Brigid had mastered (apart from the art of herbal medicine-making), it’s survival under adversity. Take a deep breath, focus on her next task, persevere and keep going. Words to swear by to remain sane in this ruthless world.<br/><br/>But this... camp. This is a whole ‘nother level of suffering. This is Brigid’s most indomitable foe yet... the inevitability of death.<br/><br/>Brigid shut her eyes to preserve her sanity from the gruesome sights... but the maker did not confer on humans (or as far as she knew - any other race) the ability to willy-nilly shut off one’s ability to hear. The gut-wrenching sounds of cries, screams, and moans assaulted her. Driving her insane. The midday sun bore down on her mercilessly, determined to roast her alive if the Empire did not care to finish the job. Her many wounds itched, with no way to scratch them. Her joints continued to be contorted into impossible angles by the tight shackles.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center"><i>“Hey, pole buddy, if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate some of that water right about now.”</i><br/>​</div>Brigid<i>’s </i>eyes opened a slit as she turned to the source of the voice. Blurrily, she took in the horned, scarred, and badly battered ‘pole buddy’ of hers. Her first impression was...<i>boy, the Empire sure did a thorough job on this one. They might as well have re-arranged her face. A</i>s for her request for her bowl of water - Brigid hadn’t exactly touched it herself. She wasn’t keen on debasing herself by drinking off the floor like some farm animal. She is about to die and her thirst is the last of her problems. But to each their own. With a sweep of her feet, Brigid nudged the bowl across the dirt ground. A few drops swilled over before the bowl came to a stop near the other girl’s waist.<br/><br/>Brigid was about to close her eyes once more when a large swarthy shadow fell over the both of them. The greasy bodily scent was eerily familiar - and a second later the voice confirmed it. Rhodri - the prison guard - now deked out in Empire garbs. A spy for the Empire... not that Brigid managed to come to that conclusion immediately amidst her surge of rage and surprise.<br/><br/>“Well well well... looked like the wee lil herbalist managed to make it out in one piece. And made yourself a new dyke friend already? A right lit slut you are, arencha?” He taunted, gleefully.