Being trapped in a high-security room tended to cause you to miss quite a few important events in the outside world; it was more than unnerving. Zurich could barely read, much less write, but counting was a skill that came with dealing with coin—she'd count as high as she could, and start over again. It was the closest she could come to keeping some type of time.
When Gerwolf first came to speak to her, she was certain that the fate of hanging would finally roll into motion. But the man revealed that he had no intention of harming her, unless she gave him reason to do so. He told her that he planned on releasing her, but she couldn't get him to reveal when, or under what circumstances. It would be...A waiting game.
He talked, talked and talked—Endless talking, so much, that Zurich was tempted to break down and accept what he said for the sake of moments peace. It wasn't only for the fact of his talking, no, but the instigated guilt he provoked; guilt that Zurich had worked for so long to rationalize, which he worked to tear to pieces, an already delicate membrane.
Her welling irritation would only cause her to become brash, a dive for escape from his clawing words. Threats ensued, and solace would only come for short time. I have all of the time in the world, he told her. Zurich...Wanted out now.
An indistinguishable amount of time would carry by before he returned once more. Zurich had formulated the single, feeble plan of escape that could have anything above a single percent chance of working possibility—as he opened the door, she charged, slamming the wooden chair against his chest. Joy would rush over her as he staggered backwards, but her vision, blurred by adrenaline, would finally take in his full set of plated armor, taking the brute of whatever the blow could have been.
Ivlathdur would be her saving grace, the ranger entering the room moments after the scene had begun. He would lead Gerwolf out of the room, and Zurich would retreat to the corner. There, she'd count, count, count some more...She'd go as high as she could, and start over again.
An infinite amount of counting passed by until the door opened again: Ivlathdur, impatient and in no mood to stop and explain what was happening. He commanded her to stand, and with her hesitation to follow him out of the room, guards appeared by her side to drag her forward. She wouldn't struggle—if she were to ever escape, she needed to be in her prime, not beat for refusing to follow.
But where he led her would be the grand reveal of his motives, a sight for sore eyes greeting her, right outside of the Thaladuin estate: Harly, El, Ann and Firam, all lined up, ranks held back a number of archers so to keep them from Gerwolf, Amnis, and even...Aellwenn. All three, gathered together at the estate. But she could hardly care, elated to see Indignation standing tall.
A call for cease-fire was made, agreed upon, and Zurich was released. She found herself back alongside the others, their grins welcoming her back. Despite the call for peace, threats still rang through the air, akin to angry growls of dogs separated by a flimsy fence. It would take only intervention by Amnis(a kindness, she'd assume it to be, unexpected) and the demands of peace by Ivlathdur. Dogs being held by choking collars, still snarling and tossing spittle about as their throats collapsed.
And so it would be...Escape was made. They returned to Bree, the sights, smells and noises rushing back in wondrous greeting to Zurich. She and Harlyn would make a trip to the Pony, settling by one of the fireplaces, the air...Relaxed, almost. In the least—Happy. It would be here that Zurich called a request, voice confident in her demand.
When tha' time comes...And Gerwolf is bein' held to his knees, helpless...I want to be tha' one to do th'deed. I want to tell 'em that he is tha' true dirty gutter-rat.
