The struggling won't do at all, not while he's already working so hard. Gideon pauses, shifting Tiffany's weight in his grip, as though he's about to do something-- but then she stills, and he waits a moment before continuing their journey.
"The time for that is past, Seeker," he whispers, so quietly that the words are barely more than the sound of his lips, tongue and teeth touching to mouth the words. They arrive on level ground at last, a place that smells of damp stone and lamp oil, Tiffany's feet bumping over the cobbles as she's drawn into a smaller chamber. The air is closer in here, and Gideon sets her down for a moment to move things around, wooden crates by the sound and smell of it.
It only takes a minute, and then she's being dragged again. Should she roll, Tiffany will find that she has walls on all sides-- wooden ones, likely the crates-- and little room to move. But there isn't much time to make sense of the new space before the gag is lifted from her mouth, and a glass vial pushed to her lips.
Whatever's in it, she doesn't have much choice in whether or not to consume it.
Whatever he'd said to her had been imperceptible, too hushed for her to make out, though she'd strained to hear it. Would it have done any good? Would it have given her any clues?
It doesn't matter now. Now she's on the ground, and just as she's noting the closeness of the air and the sense of the walls around her, and the smell of the stone, that glass vial is at her mouth. Spurred by desperation, Tiffany wrenches sharply back, trying to move her head, bump her chin against the vial, anything, anything to stop whatever is being pressed on her from going in her mouth.
"No," is the word she manages, raggedly--why would be next, but she can't get that out.
The word is smothered by the liquid pouring into Tiffany's mouth, Gideon forcing her head back to tip it down her throat. It only takes about ten seconds for the medicine to take effect: her vision clouds, blackens at the edges, and then all is silent. A dreamless sleep, keeping her unconscious for hours on end.
When she wakes, which she eventually will, Gideon is already there. He almost always times it perfectly, allowing very little time for her to stir before he puts her right back to sleep-- sometimes he'll give her a bit of bread, a few sips of water. She's not meant to die, at least not yet.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2021-10-28 07:40 pm (UTC)"The time for that is past, Seeker," he whispers, so quietly that the words are barely more than the sound of his lips, tongue and teeth touching to mouth the words.
They arrive on level ground at last, a place that smells of damp stone and lamp oil, Tiffany's feet bumping over the cobbles as she's drawn into a smaller chamber. The air is closer in here, and Gideon sets her down for a moment to move things around, wooden crates by the sound and smell of it.
It only takes a minute, and then she's being dragged again. Should she roll, Tiffany will find that she has walls on all sides-- wooden ones, likely the crates-- and little room to move. But there isn't much time to make sense of the new space before the gag is lifted from her mouth, and a glass vial pushed to her lips.
Whatever's in it, she doesn't have much choice in whether or not to consume it.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-29 11:22 pm (UTC)It doesn't matter now. Now she's on the ground, and just as she's noting the closeness of the air and the sense of the walls around her, and the smell of the stone, that glass vial is at her mouth. Spurred by desperation, Tiffany wrenches sharply back, trying to move her head, bump her chin against the vial, anything, anything to stop whatever is being pressed on her from going in her mouth.
"No," is the word she manages, raggedly--why would be next, but she can't get that out.
no subject
Date: 2021-10-30 12:07 am (UTC)A dreamless sleep, keeping her unconscious for hours on end.
When she wakes, which she eventually will, Gideon is already there. He almost always times it perfectly, allowing very little time for her to stir before he puts her right back to sleep-- sometimes he'll give her a bit of bread, a few sips of water. She's not meant to die, at least not yet.