We Know You See the Pattern

"We Know You See the Pattern" is a [SEASON NUMBER] thread written on [IRL DATE].
==Summary==
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==Full Text==
Nio tugged nervously at their scarf, pulling it up higher over the bridge of their nose as they waited outside the cell that the Jarl was currently occupying, with one of the half-breeds scooped up from the recent Wildersouth raids. They heard the voices getting a little louder from inside, and tilted their head to listen.
“I’m not giving you anything remotely close to inf–”
“You’re assuming I think you know anything. But you’ve also done an awful job at hiding. You don’t think I know who you and your kind are?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
There was a pause. Nio tasted blood with how hard they were biting the inside of their lip. 
“You think,” the female prisoner said, “that I care that you have him?” But her voice was trembling.
“That would be news to me,” Vidar said offhandedly. “He at least seems to care about you.”
“Good for him.”
Nio sensed disappointment in Vidar’s words, and their stomach quivered at the sound. It was a prelude to much, much worse things. “If that’s how you feel…I’m sure we can give it some time. Let the stew simmer, you know how it goes. You’re only a tool to get him to spill about Haligan, you know.”
“He hasn’t even been to–” Her words cut short. There was another tense pause. Then Vidar began to chuckle heartily. Nio’s pulse quickened.
“Oh. It appears we had a misunderstanding, didn’t we?” he said, with newfound delight. There was a shuffle, and then a muffled bang. The prisoner snarled, and Vidar barked another laugh at the sound. “Vicious beast. They all want to play mother bear when they get the chance. But it’s always too late. They don’t usually don’t bother being around when it matters most.” His last few words strained slightly as though he were lifting something, and Nio heard flesh on flesh, along with a stifled cry of pain. “Some hero of Ragnarok you are. The King’s soldier. The Warden’s vessel. You’re past your time.”
“Then kill me,” she said hoarsely. 
“You’ll die, most certainly. And it will be at my hand. But it won’t be now. It’ll be while he watches. It’ll be while he begs. It’ll be while he tells me everything he knows to try and stop your bleeding. And it won’t matter. You will die, alone.”
“He won’t tell you anything.” Out of anyone else’s mouth, the words would’ve sounded defiant, but this woman sounded despondent–that she knew that, whoever Vidar was referring to, wouldn’t sell out the Rebellion, even for his own mother. “All you’re doing is digging your own grave. There’s worse than soldiers out there.”
“Right, the demon.” Vidar sounded bored. “We’ve dealt with her kind before. I’m quite certain she will pose little challenge to us.”
Nio tugged their hat lower, eyes flickering across the floor as they listened. They had already tried searching for the Warden to warn her about what the Jarl had in mind, but between their tight schedule, the demon’s great strides, and the restrictions of their own portals, they had no success. The thought of him getting his hands on her was horrifying.
“You’re of little more use to me. Anything I should tell Liam, before I go to speak with him?”
There was only a low growl, similar to a cat’s yowl when scrapping in a back alley, and Vidar sighed. “I thought as much. I’ll be back for you eventually.”
Before the Jarl exited the cell, Nio was already gone.
-
Liam was barely awake, but still heard the sounds of something in his solitary confinement, and he lurched to his feet and blindly grabbed at the intruder, slamming them by the neck against the wall. His hand immediately lit up like lightning had struck it, and he flinched and cried out, drawing back one hand but keeping the other at the throat of a short, cloaked figure. They looked up at him with round, pale eyes, and eventually he also saw that their gloved hands were raised up by their head in surrender. Liam faltered, but then he gripped them tighter, the light in the cell flickering.
“Who are you?” he rasped. “Conclave? You here to kill me?”
“No,” they replied. Their eyes drifted to his free, injured hand, and then back at him. “I can fix that. And then I have things to tell you.”
A swell of lightheadedness came over Liam from getting to his feet too quickly, and he was barely able to keep himself from falling, leaning up against the wall and sliding down to the ground. He clutched his paw close to his chest until he saw the stranger bend down and offer their dark hand again, their fingers gesturing urgently in several twitching motions. He didn’t have the strength to keep them from gently prying it away and putting their other palm over his, brushing over the rough, raw pads.
“Alright, listen.” They made a swirling, rotating motion with their entire hand, and Liam felt hot water seep through his fur, rushing like a quick stream. They paid special attention to his busted fingers. “I know who you are, and I’ve rung the alarms on Haligan to come get you. But I don’t know when, or how, or who they’re bringing.”
“Yeah right,” he grunted, feeling a warm buzzing around the joints in his hand.
They twisted their mouth, and paused in their ministrations to push aside half their coat and pull their white buttoned tunic up to expose their abdomen, using a finger to rapidly tap at an obscure burn mark under their arm. “Lookit. I’m not doing this for fun.”
As soon as Liam was able to somewhat focus on the mark, something triggered in the back of his head and he shook his head, blinking, now able to recognize it through some of Nala’s imprinted memories. “Changeling,” he breathed.
“That their name? Whatever. I don’t have a choice in this any more, so I’m helping. That work for you?”
His fingers were still a mess, but they were less awkwardly-angled than before, and Liam pulled his hand away, cradling it again. “I guess. Why–?”
They snatched his wrist again, and he winced. “Not done. They have your mom.”
All the breath left Liam’s lungs, and he stared like a frozen deer at the white-haired stranger. They seemed to grimace in some kind of sympathy. “Sorry. I didn’t want them to blindside you with that to try and get you to do something we’ll all regret.”
“Where?” Liam stuttered. 
“Does it matter?” they said impatiently. “Just sit tight and wait for the rebels. Keep a lid on all of this unless you want to be here forever. Got it?”
“Who are you?” he demanded, sitting up more, thinking about getting back to his feet and repeating his earlier panicked move. 
They took a breath, and then pulled their scarf higher up over the lower half of their face, making a circular gesture behind them. A splash of water darkened the sandstone-colored wall behind them, and it defied gravity and twisted into a circular shape that was roughly their height. 
“I’m just saving my ass by saving yours,” they said. The wet circle lit up with a pale glow, and they stepped backwards. Liam scrambled forward, some half-formed sentence stuck in his throat, but his paws hit the solid stone with a wet smack, and he was alone once more. But now, his heart was thundering, and his mind was reeling. At least something worthwhile was happening beyond the door.
-
It wasn’t too much longer before the guards approached and opened the door once more, but this time, it wasn’t to give Liam the bare minimum of food to keep him alive. They hoisted him to his feet and immediately clasped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, and they were half the length of his forearm. When they locked shut, Liam felt a dull but painful length of metal dig into the underside of both his wrists, and bit his tongue to keep from crying out in pain. The same awful, numb feeling from before started to crawl up his arms to his elbows, and he had no choice but to let them take him down the hall, further into the belly of the dungeon.
Category:BOTGD 2
Category:Events
Category:Act II
Category:Liam Arnason
Category:Vidar Bloodletter
Category:Nio Icewalker
Category:Treepelt Halfpaw