The door opened and closed once more. This time she did look. The man who stood before her, her savior most likely, was tall. His hair was long, going down his back with enough to put up in a knot atop his head as well. His face was strong but also held a boyish charm that made him look younger than he probably was. He wore dark red and black robes over loose black pants. He gazed down at her with hard eyes that made her nervous. She stared at him unable to look away before recognition hit her. He was the one from her dreams. Before she could even begin to figure out what that could mean, he handed her a small black cloth. She stared at it for a moment before taking it, it was cold and damp. Realizing what its purpose was she placed it on her aching lip. She could feel his eyes on her the entire time.
She was about to thank him when he spoke what sounded like the exact same thing the other man had kept repeating. Feeling her frustration grow she shut her eyes to calm herself. It would do no good to provoke him, otherwise she'd end up back in that room. But when the man repeated the question or whatever it was, she snapped and gave into her anger. “Look, I don’t know what any of you are saying alright! If you want to know something, get someone in here who speaks freaking English or leave me the hell alone! And by the way, the next person who puts their hand on me will lose it. Present company included.” The room was silent for a minute. It slowly dawned on her that she really was in no position to threaten anyone. If he wanted, he could have shackled and beaten within an inch of her life and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. She forced herself to peek up at him. The man was still standing in front of her regarding her very carefully, but his expression was not as hard at it was before.
“What is your name?” The question actually startled her. She looked up at the man with a surprised expression. His voice was heavily accented, but she knew she had heard him correctly.
The English language had never sounded so beautiful to her. Later she would be ashamed to admit it, but she teared up from relief. She covered her face with her hands as she tried to pull herself together. Once she felt okay she raised her head.
“Serenity,” she answered with a sniff. The man was silent once more. She looked up at him once more.
“Where am I?” she asked.
At the same time, he asked, “How did you get here?”
“You tell me,” She countered.
“Not here in the place, this land. You look to be far from home.”
That seemed like an understatement. She decided in the midst of her torture that she must have been still trapped in a very realistic dream. That was the only thing that made sense to her. It would explain why this man who’d appeared in every one of them was here in front of her, why the language was wrong, the people, the clothes everything. This couldn’t be real. She had no idea why she would be dreaming about being stuck in some ancient civilization, but she was sure that it couldn’t be anything else but a dream. But since she appeared to have no control over it and she could clearly be hurt, she would have to play along until she could manage to wake herself.
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