*This is a work of fiction, all characters are 18+
Andrial walks down the cold dark hall, boots clicking against the stone floor. A pair of brass keys and a scimitar hang at his hip. The soft fabric of his tunic sways with his brisk walk. He casts long shadows across the wall as he swiftly descends into the dungeon. He rubs his chin, the coarse hairs scratching his hand. The heavy footsteps stop as Andrial stands in front of a dark metal door. A damp musty smell emanates from the room.
He unclips the keys from his belt and quickly flicks to a long worn one. A light clatter fills the corridor as he unlocks the door, harmonizing with the scurrying of rats. The heavy door creaks open, rust fighting against the motion. Inside a fair faced man sits defiantly in the center of the room. Soft black locks of hair fall over his face, curling around his light brown eyes. A tray of food sits untouched next to him. Andrial lifts a torch from beside the door and steps into the cell, letting the door close behind him.
"Still on a hunger strike, boy?" Andrial asks amused as he places the torch in a wall mount. The prisoner crosses his arms but otherwise remains unmoving.
A flash of anger crosses Andrial's eyes. He grabs a fistful of Tena's black hair, and violently pulls him forward. Tena loses balance as his bare legs scrape harshly against the stone. Andrial kneels down, pulling Tena's grimacing face to his own.