Sonorous

The insides of her cheeks were bitten until she tasted bitter iron; to compensate for the striking blot of pain that spread across her weighted body. Every muscle in her heaved with soreness straining her mobility. Her head feels the breeze of concussion. She winces, throwing her head back in agony releasing a haggard groan from her lips. A deep breath is taken whilst she peaks out of one eye. A mistake on her part. She falls with disorientation and lands on the hardness of firm hands supporting her. She thought they were warm… comforting, and safe. They felt new. But, who's were they?

Startled, Anela jolts back, escaping the hold. Her shoulders straighten while she raises her head high. Stability is still a struggle for her to sustain right now, but her stubbornness and complete fright refused to let it show on her face. She looks around, attempting to remain with her wits. Noticing she had been dressed in a white chemise. Anela grits her teeth and narrows her eyes. She begins to list her surroundings. Hoping to find answers: why is she not in a hospital with her family after suffering through that near-death experience?

A large round tent is where she lies. One opening. Standing guard, two men are dressed in 'metal decor' holding long steel spears. Confusion sweeps over Anela's face whilst looking at these people. She tries not to dwell on their fashion choices. Four other men occupy this space. One is to her left, sitting at an ebony desk - he assesses papers in his hand. Three are in the centre. Surrounding a table, pointing at a large print of paper. All are armed.

"W-who are you? Where am I?" She demands. Her vocal cords are damaged by the rough currents of her previous adventure.

The strangers in the room who had been silently observing the unknown creature stiffened at her words. They are old. Ancient. A lost language that had been forgotten over millennia. Danger is all they felt from this woman. They remain cautious, alert and ready to fight.

Anela whips her head towards the man whose arms she squirmed away from. He leans against the post of the bed she was placed in. Her face remains collected, not allowing it to falter. Although, in truth, she is in inner turmoil. Anela is bravely waiting for an answer to her question. Unaware of the mistakes she made.

Whilst keeping eye contact, she notices how haunting this man's presence is. The pressure oozing from him is too much to bare, making her knees feel weak. His dark eyes emit danger. Obsidian orbs howling for blood. Her eyes contracted in fear. However, despite this feeling, she did not dare divert her gaze. She felt incapable. Slick, thick black curls of hair fall to frame his sharp features. Something about his demeanour exemplified his position. His authority is unmistakable. He leads these men.

The words spoken previously by Anela are ignored. The atmosphere is frosty, raising tensions for all parties involved. The commander's sharp gaze never left Anela from the second those raspy groans escaped from her mouth as she fell into his arms. He was following her intently, watching this small creature attempt to establish a dominating role.

Leather squeaks against metal as the men tighten their grip around the hilt of swords. Only when the commander of these men opened his mouth did she realise the error she had made. The language is different to her own. Her brows furrowed. She let her mask slip before recollecting herself. This did not go unnoticed. Her internal torture grew fierce as she cursed herself. 'Shit, shit, shit! Where the hell am I?'

The condition of her breathing became shallow whilst her eyes widened in panic. Blossoms of static start to build in her core, accelerating her heartbeat. A handsome man with waist-length silver hair catches her gaze. Words have been spoken to him by their commander. His eyes are light like his hair, soft and inviting. They glisten upon listening to his instructions. He pulls the corners of his mouth up, revealing all his teeth. Manipulative. The perfect word to describe this person. A trustworthy man that only leads you to a bitter end. He takes one step towards his target, observing her reaction. She takes one step back in unison. Time is frozen for a second time. A multitude of eyes darted around in suspicion.

Electricity pulses through Anela. She can sense they feel threatened and is determined to use this to her advantage. She had just woken up from unconsciousness in a tent full of armed strangers…speaking a foreign language. Her mind was swirling with anxiety. It took everything in her resolve not to fall to the ground in a timid mess.

Oblivious to the voltage coursing through her palms. It subconsciously prepares her for a bloody battle.

Five men glare at the woman.

Five men feel her power.

Five men turn deadly.

Anela is stupefied. Her mouth opens to only close again. She lifts her head to catch the piercing stare of obsidian orbs that have followed her tentatively. Ignorantly trying to speak again.

"I want to go home. Let me leave." Silence is all she is met with. His face remains emotionless, dark and deadly.

"I ask nothing of you but peace. P-please…let me go." Anela tries to beg, standing her ground.

She tries desperately to push soft melodies out of her throat, hoping her tone sounds neutral and calm. Confidence rules her face. She presents herself as sincere.

Lies. Internally her body is a shaking mess. Her throat is burning, cracking throughout her speech, making her sound husky and timid. Vulnerability and fear swallow her whole. The temperature in the room drops lower, yet her sight remains locked onto the commanders, unable to rip her focus away. Once again, silence is all she is met with. Each of the men's faces darkens further whilst she exposes herself with every word spoken. They narrow their eyes the longer she dares to address their boss so brazenly. Beads of sweat drip down Anelas's back. She no longer feels she has the upper hand.

The man with obsidian eyes steps forward. He takes it upon himself to finish this sequence of events. His presence weighs heavier on Anela the more he draws closer. She continues to dance and takes a step back, gulping hard as she does so. Until her back is pressed against the ebony desk. He subtly flicks the sides of his mouth up, solidifying his stance and happy with her reaction. He is now only two steps away. Closing the distance between them further. His almond-shaped eyes pry into her as if he were reading her thoughts. His lips slowly parted to speak. Nostalgia lingers in the air when his sonorous voice hits her ears.

"Leave." This word...Anela understood.