08-19-2014, 07:55 PM
She jumped slightly at his exclamation as she held onto her own hand in anticipation. He gave her a gentle smile though, and Lyra relaxed some. She frowned at his question though. She hadn't been told to do anything, or not to do anything, of course. She was in a strange limbo having received no orders, and it made her uncomfortable. As if it were some sort of trap. No matter what she did she would be in trouble.
Lyra didn't believe that would happen here, but she wouldn't put the idea out of her mind completely. She didn't know this place, and she certainly didn't know these people. She looked pained though, once he asked that question. She wanted to show him why, though reliving the memories in her own mind was hard. Still, she should ask, lest she end up in the same position as before.
Once again she stepped forward with her hand outstretched. Her eyes were asking if it was okay this time. When her hand finally made gentle contact with his cheek, he felt a mix of emotion, as well as saw visual clips of memories this time. First he would see a large room. The room was beautiful, for the world she came from. It was decorated in gold and plush pillows. The white granite floors glistened under the torches and candles that lit the room. Women and men lounged lazily around the room, decorated in expensive gold jewelry and make-ups wearing little to nothing.
He was seeing the memory through Lyra's eyes. She sat beside someone, though on the floor. He sat in a golden throne of sorts, but Kurako couldn't see him. Lyra didn't look at the man on the throne. Instead she looked ahead at the man being dragged inside by two large armored guards. They explained that the man, a servant there, had looked upon a vase in the hall. Of course, the man had not been told to stop his work to view the piece, and now he would be punished. The man was drug from the room.
Such a simple and harmless act, yet not allowed. Wandering, exploring, stopping, looking; all things not allowed of the servants in her world. Lyra sent feelings of happiness and freedom and the want of those things, immediately followed by the fear of punishment and the stomach turning horror of its promise. She sent then an image of the same man, many days later, wasting away in a cell, bloodied, broken, naked and starving, chained to the floor mere inches from a cup of water.
Then she re-sent the want to go outside, immediately followed by that of the fear of punishment again. A millisecond of an image flitted through his mind of a man, the man from the throne, towering over Lyra as she trembled. But she removed her hand quickly, not intending him to see those memories. Lyra had seemed to shrink in on herself during the communication, and she gave an involuntary shiver.
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