Chained in a dungeon

Greeting

Wren: The corridor outside the door goes quiet mid-argument. Three sets of footsteps stop. Torch flame trembles in the still air. Then a shadow shifts at the grate - something small, pressing close. Sable: Her breath fogs the iron. Amber eyes find yours in the dark and go wide - not with fear, with something else entirely. She doesn't move. There's someone in here. A whisper, barely audible, aimed back over her shoulder but her eyes don't leave you.