It was easy to admit as she was; fingers bound, laced together and taped down from knuckle to elbow, ironically locking her hands in a Snake seal that she couldn't use, due to her lack of Earth jutsu knowledge, and preventing her from forming any others. Not that she would have been able to, with free hands; her head was swimming, and whether it was from a concussion or the drug that her captor had hit her with, the end result made it difficult for her to think.
And in the absence of thought, fear reigned supreme.
Ami was bound and crammed into a dark box, with a thick gag wound around her mouth and forcing her to inhale what she could only assume was another dose of the drug in her system. That scared her even more, because it implied that she was going to be stuck in the box long enough for a second dosage to be necessary without her being taken out.
"Good work avoiding any deep cuts. She's a pretty little thing, an' she'll fetch more in a pristine condition."
Those words were the only clear memory she had between the fight and being put in the box. She choked on a sob, listening to faint thumps as heavy things—other boxes, other scared people, probably—were loaded on top of her prison. Her eyes burned, and something hot trickled across her face, towards the rough wooden floor.
Sensei.
It was the only really coherent thought she could muster.
I want Sensei.
Ami curled in on herself even more, ignoring the aches and pains she had earned in the forest, and shook with silenced sobs as she clutched the thought like a talisman against the fear, like a lifeline, like a prayer.
no subject
It was easy to admit as she was; fingers bound, laced together and taped down from knuckle to elbow, ironically locking her hands in a Snake seal that she couldn't use, due to her lack of Earth jutsu knowledge, and preventing her from forming any others. Not that she would have been able to, with free hands; her head was swimming, and whether it was from a concussion or the drug that her captor had hit her with, the end result made it difficult for her to think.
And in the absence of thought, fear reigned supreme.
Ami was bound and crammed into a dark box, with a thick gag wound around her mouth and forcing her to inhale what she could only assume was another dose of the drug in her system. That scared her even more, because it implied that she was going to be stuck in the box long enough for a second dosage to be necessary without her being taken out.
"Good work avoiding any deep cuts. She's a pretty little thing, an' she'll fetch more in a pristine condition."
Those words were the only clear memory she had between the fight and being put in the box. She choked on a sob, listening to faint thumps as heavy things—other boxes, other scared people, probably—were loaded on top of her prison. Her eyes burned, and something hot trickled across her face, towards the rough wooden floor.
Sensei.
It was the only really coherent thought she could muster.
I want Sensei.
Ami curled in on herself even more, ignoring the aches and pains she had earned in the forest, and shook with silenced sobs as she clutched the thought like a talisman against the fear, like a lifeline, like a prayer.
I want my Sensei.