Reserved for Matt, your welcome bish!
Thestia Thane had been imprisoned for a month. She'd been so triumphant over Sabrina it made the young witch cocky, and so she was unprepared for the ambush that took place only a few nights later. She'd been snatched from her home, and her magic was largely neutralized. She'd made her fingers bloody from trying to tear away the leather cuff that cancelled out her magic, but to no avail. She assumed it could only be taken off by someone other than her, and possibly only the person who'd placed it on her. Tess knew very little about her captor, except that he had dark hair, a slick sounding voice, and wings he thought she couldn't see. Even weakened, her eyes saw those things that were hidden. Different planes were like changing the channel for Tess, and so she'd figured out that her captor was a dark angel.
Zoheret must've been behind this. It was the only explanation. Tess had made her interest into Zoheret too clear, too early, and now feared she was paying the price for it. On the other hand, she'd assumed in the first few days that she'd be turned over to the coven and Sabrina. Instead, she was still here. She blamed herself for the length of her ignorance. She'd insulted and tried to fight her dark angel captor at first, but he'd quickly shown her how debilitating the cuff on her wrist really was.
He wasn't mistreating her, not really. She had food, clothes, a cell to move around, water, toilet, and even some entertainment magazines. She didn't mind the isolation save from Wren and Black Philip. She didn't understand her captor's game. Tess decided that it was time to stop rebelling and see what the fucker wanted. She'd summoned enough power to contact Wren, and he was looking for her Tess knew. However, she just couldn't wait for him to find her. Black Philip was likely becoming impatient with her. She banged on the door of her cell, and shouted, "tell the fucking bird boy I'm ready to cooperate!"
Tess wasn't sure she'd been heard, but a few hours later she heard light footsteps that she knew belonged to him. She wore a simple flower dress, no makeup or shoes, and her hair was combed down with a headband. The only other thing she wore was the leather cuff. If only she had a knife to cut off her arm. Necromancy would likely let her grow it back. She took a chair in the room, and sat, legs crossed at the ankle and hands in lap.
"Is boring people to death your kink," she asked, as the door swung open.