Evangeline sits on the floor of her tiny cell.  It’s pitch black save for the slowly alternating blinking red and blue lights on her restraint collar. She isn’t so much a prisoner literally as she is figuratively, and frankly she deserves her bleak living conditions and she knows it.   Rarely did a witch become brazen enough to attempt to take the life of their inquisitor. Even rarer still was the concept of freedom after the fact..and it was more or less unheard of for a bound psyker who attempted to murder their inquisitor to be given a second chance. Her second chance comes in the form of a fsix by four foot cell , with thick bronze metal plating  covering the room and floor, and  a small thin mattress   strewn about in the corner. The Immortal Glory had nicer rooms to be sure…but Evangeline didn’t really care about her shoddy living conditions, as she was far more concerned with removal of the collar secured strongly around her neck.<br/><br/>She stabs at the apparatus with a hand tool, and winces as the device shocks her strongly.<span style="color: olive">“Ouch..” </span>she growls,<span style="color: olive">“Fucker…” </span>, she continues as she pokes at the device again. Her first inquisition was a horrible will breaking experience..she learned to be resilient in the face of pain, even embrace it and thus keeps poking.  She expected to be beaten. She wasn’t. She expected to be left to starve…that didn’t happen either. She’d gotten off relatively light her first inquisition and indoctrination as Mercia’s Penitent Witch. After the ‘unpleasantness’ as Evangeline liked to call it, she wasn’t so lucky.  Of course there was a few good blows here and there ,but they weren’t by Mercia’s hand shockingly enough.  Her punishment was her captivity, as  Mercia was a smart enough woman to know that to Evangeline captivity was a fate far worse then death.<br/><br/>She exhales thick tendrils of smoke and stubs her Lho stick out on the brass flooring as the Vox goes live.  Mercia orders for acolytes to make their way to her quarters are issued along with an empty threat of punishment if intoxicated.  She smiles a little , downs the rest of her bottle of  rotgut, and envisions  the last time she was in Mercias chambers . She remembers the cold steel pressed against her temple as she stares down the inquisitor.  She‘s unrepentant for her actions and fully expecting death. She’s surprised when the Inquisitor just glares at her and orders to her lackeys in a deadpan voice to fasten the restraint collar.<br/><br/>She stumbles to her feet and moves to the corner where her one change of clothing exists, replacing the thin t-shirt from her lithe frame she pulls on her white and red robes, sniffs roughly and musses up her wild red locks. She cracks her back and pats her self down for another Lho stick. She lights it and exits her cell, giving the guards posted in the hallway a feint little ‘kiss’ motion with her lips, she makes her way  through the far nicer corridors and finally arrives at the Inquisitors door.<br/><br/>She raises a sculpted  and painted brow  at the other woman standing next to the door, exhaling though the side of her mouth as she examines the woman. She remains quiet for a moment while she observes the dark-haired man standing ominously under the flickering light fixture. She sniffs again in contempt of them both, and fishes out a flask from her robes. She downs another shot of rotgut, and stares at the woman across from her. “<span style="color: Olive">What?!”</span>she hisses,<span style="color: Olive">“Boss lady warned us not to be hung over..”</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>