Why Are You Here Again?

Clad in flannel pajamas that said 'screw the rules' at the front, toes buried by the darkness of the cell twiddled. Bread and corn soup lay untouched on the table set for her as a pair of glowing emeralds shone brighter when surrounded by the shade of black which engulfed the entirety of the four corners of her personal brand of the dungeon experience.

Crescent crossed her arms before her while she leaned back against the cold bricks of the wall. Staring nothing for three days and three nights now if her count was right, her horns scratched the walls – creating a screeching sound, igniting a fire-like friction from the tip of her horns onto the wall.

Really. What is that man doing all these times to make it three days without reporting to me? Cent grumbled in her thoughts.