Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2027122-GoT-Interactive-Story-Competition/cid/1986758-The-spy-is-suffering-from-hysteria
The man's shoulders juddered and convulsed even as his face became as ruddy at the setting sun on Midsummer's Eve.
His breathing became as laboured as though he had run many rounds of the Castle.
*Whistle-wheeze-whine* went his lungs, this nostrils working overtime to draw in air.
What ails the dolt?
"Keeper!"
"Speak, tell all." But my command fell on ears that could no longer hear, the poor creature just kept muttering that one word, my title, over and over again.
Ah, the obstruction is from within, the fear that resides in his innermost being.
I have some skill with Potions, a Keeper has to dabble in many skills, although one can call in experts when the luxury of time exists.
I withdrew from a small key from the ring rucked in my waist pocket, it unlocked a small casket in the wall niche. I let my fingers walk over the crystal topped jars, rejecting first one, then another, for this problem was unusual. A trained spy, too terrified to talk without being drunk enough that he ought to be in a deep stupor. And yet his tale was not told, he was still so overwhelmed some knowledge that he could not allow it to pass his lips.
I selected the tall flagon that lay at the end of the last row, still unopened; its deep purple contents cast a gloom over the chamber as it was revealed.
I held the fellow's nose, inserted the narrow neck between chattering teeth and forced him to swallow twice.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2027122-GoT-Interactive-Story-Competition/cid/1986758-The-spy-is-suffering-from-hysteria
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.09 seconds at 2:15pm on Nov 22, 2024 via server WEBX1.