half a week before the winter, the chill bites before it comes

[forthsofar]

A pack of them come by her cage in the corner of the throne room once her captor--their master--has lumbered off in search of other pleasures. Mistress-to-be needs cheering, their leader says, unlocking the door and hauling her out into the rough grasp of two others. Can't send you in like that, though, filthy little bird. She's tried fighting before, gained the bruises and the scratches to prove it; now, she simply lets them drag her off, shaking a little in fear and barely-suppressed misery, hating them for everything they've done to her and Charlie and all the rest of the people she's seen and heard suffer.

Hating herself, too, for being so stupid and giving in so quickly now.

First, they take her to a vacant room somewhere in the labyrinth of the castle, cold stone walls and a hard tile floor. She's stripped and scrubbed, doused in frigid water and manhandled with an unseemly relish, the goblins erupting in a symphony of cackles and hoots every time something they do results in a whimper or shriek. Once clean, they throw a dress at her, clingy and lurid red, the sleeves long enough and back high enough to cover the worst of her bruises. New feathers, birdie, one of them purrs, watching her shiver as she pulls the dress on. Prettier plumage, to make the mistress smile.

Two goblins had brought the cage--her cage, she's ashamed to think of it as now--down to the corridor; they push her back in and lock her up, then carry her through another set of twisting passageways to a warmer part of the castle, stopping in front of a carved wooden door that opens to the lead goblin's knock. Rosie only sees the barest glimpse of the woman inside, dark dress and moonstone-pale hair and a severe expression, but she recognizes her instantly.

"Sabrina!"

Comments

[signed_sabrina]

Sabrina, in a new dress of her own, can only hope she's playing this game correctly. She's really always been someone to just push through it all in her own way; this kind of manipulation is not something that comes to her naturally.

Then again, she thinks that perhaps it what's wanted. The Lord of Darkness, or however he's styling himself, seems to enjoy the struggle and the temptation as much as anything. And so she plays along with some requests and stamps her feet at others. She relies on glimpses of Nick and Salem, of news of Charlie and Rosie, to keep her from losing herself.

The goblins, ever trying to ingratiate themselves, have promised her a songbird, and Sabrina isn't sure what this means, only that whatever they bring will be safer in her little suite of rooms. She agrees, plays between haughty and a bit petulant for the goblins, and awaits whatever fresh hell is next.

Sabrina does not expect to see Rosie brought into her, and she snaps up the opportunity as quickly as she can think to do it. Pulling herself up, lifting her chin, thinking of how Lilith might have behaved, she says, "Oh, look. You've managed to please me this time."

She has to wait for them to stop making noise.

"I still hate the very sight of you all," she declares, "but you've pleased me and so I won't complain to His Lordship about you. If you can get out of my sight and stay there long enough for me to enjoy my new pet, I might even commend your efforts, should it all come to pass. But if I see, hear, or smell any of you for the next three hours, I will demand your bones be ground into flour."

They understand that, it seems.

Sabrina's left alone with Rosie very quickly, and she counts to a full sixty before she moves forward and unlocks the cage. "Rosie," she says, her expression softening. "Come out here, I'm so sorry."