Your perception warps and twists:
Dear Reader, you now hear the thoughts of Jotou Howllett.
_23rd of March, 980 AH_
Breaths—gasping, churning. Everything was a blur, no memory stuck together enough to form what was going on.
Dragging, dragging, carrying and tossing; her body felt like a ragdoll as her barely conscious mind tried desperately to form thoughts.
"Ngh!" she remembered that sound; the sound that escaped her own lips. The memory was able to connect the sound to a sensation—a jab into her skin; something sharp and narrow, perhaps a needle to her neck.
…
…
"Ngah!" she gasped and took a large portion of air straight down to her lungs. Her eyes shot wide open and rattling of large metal chains hit her ears.
Dim light exposed two figures before her. She seemed to be on the floor, in some stone-bricked room where she saw bars past the two figures. Her wrists were cuffed to manacles behind her; the ones she heard from her own jolt of struggle.
