Title: To Hell and Swallowed
Author:
Fandom: Farscape
Character: Zhaan
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: You can't pay attention to this world on your knees.
Notes: Pre-series, spoilers for 1.12
a savage capable of anything.
The next, the truth was revealed to me,
and I knew my true path.
- Thank God It's Friday...Again
They don't tell Zhaan where they're taking her. Two new guards just appear at the door of her cell. They restrain her hands, shackle her feet, and escort her to a shuttle.
She doesn't ask questions, not then. Not until they lead her off the shuttle and onto another ship.
The walls are golden, and underneath her feet she feels...breathing.
"What is this place?" she murmurs, because they interpret quiet as weakness, and they don't withhold information from prisoners they perceive as weak.
"Leviathan transport," one of her guards responds.
"Where am I going?" she asks.
To that, they do not respond.
She paces the length of her cell.
At her previous station, she was at least given tasks.
Here on the Leviathan, there is only endless waiting.
She wants to howl. She wants to scream.
It's been too long since she's been under a sun, and with nothing to occupy her, the lack is impossible to ignore.
She does, at least, receive regular meals. The protein stays her hunger, stays the madness.
For now.
She leans against a wall, presses her cheek against the skin of it.
She does not know how to communicate with the ship, but it brings some peace to her mind, knowing that she isn't completely isolated.
She strokes her hand over the wall, and imagines she hears the ship purr.
Certain guards appear on a regular basis, though she isn't able to develop a rapport with any of them.
With each attempt, she's rebuffed, but she thinks the effort is a worthy one, regardless.
As the weeks grow long, she puts a question to each of them.
"How long am I to be kept here?"
One woman laughs, but that's the most reply she receives.
She fears she will grow mad again.
There is nothing else to fill the vacuum in her mind, aside from the irritation of her captivity, the dark flashes of rage at her captors.
This is not a novelty, this cramped, sun-deprived lunacy.
This is nothing she has not experienced before.
This is the thing few outsiders understand about the Delvian Seek: it is a necessity, should one wish to remain sane.
Before the people flowered, there was the dark time. There was war, and chaos, and murder.
Khalaan reached out and showed them their path. To evolution, to enlightenment.
Khalaan taught them the way to peace, both inside and out.
Without the Seek, they would all descend to savagery.
This is what she was taught. This is what she believes.
But only experience has shown her the truth of it.
They found her, wailing, beside his body.
She barely noticed their presence, until they gathered his body, pulled him away from her.
Then, she fought, blindly.
She returned to herself when they bound her.
Her throat throbbed from her screams, and blood coated her tongue, her hands.
They stuck her in a dry, dark cell, and she thought they would leave her there to wither.
No less than she deserved.
One day, a guard escorts a Hynerian past her cell. And stops. Strolls away, just out of earshot.
She approaches the door of her cell, crouches to meet the Hynerian's eyes.
"There is one other prisoner," he whispers to her. "And the two of us. I've bribed a guard. I have a plan."
The guard returns. "Come on, Dominar." He leans on the last word with a sneer.
The Hynerian smiles, nods his head. Waves casually to her as he leaves.
She sits back on her heels, leans her head back.
Breathes deep, and again.
And she prays.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Christian Hawkey's Interlude With Gypsies and Tambourines. Link courtesy of
Originally linked here.
- Mood:
contemplative - Music:the baby crying

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