Jailbird

The halls of the prisons were always cold, empty and discordant. When it wasn't dead silent, the cells rang out with protests and insults being hurled at any passing guard. It certainly wasn't a happy place, and even the most stoic of the Iguanodon guards wanted to avoid guard duty here in favour of the open air prison pits. 

"Have you ever played music before?" Bluebell asked the little purple raptor she had been ordered to guard.

"I'm not much of a singer," Kaiwi grouched back from within his cell.

"That's a shame, you don't need to sing to make music," the Iggy assured him in what she hoped was a sincere tone. The raptor didn't respond, glowering over his wing at her before tucking his head back down to sleep. He had been sleeping for most of the day and Bluebell worried that he may be afflicted with some kind of illness as a result of his capture. She had tried to petition Geurilla for some supervised outdoor time for the prisoner but he had staunchly refused. Apparently the guards were spread thin already and didn't have anyone to spare to take prisoners on 'walkies'. Bluebell had been disappointed but she relented, like she often did at the first sign of conflict. The older Iggy had given her a firm enough look that she knew he wouldn't be persuaded anyway, why not just give up before she made him angry?

She sighed as she looked down at the weapon in her paws, her thumb spike of course but also the spear that was a common issue for the court of Atlantis. Only the Ovis and Iggys could use them and they were often too big and unwieldy for the former, leaving them defenseless on their excursions to the surface. Bluebell sighed again and rolled the tip of the spear across the cobbled floor. The metal hitting the stone made a noise that broke the silence but it was harsh and unpleasant and she soon stopped dragging it over the floor. Instead, she took the handle and gently thumped the ground with it. It made a deep clunking noise whenever she got it directly straight and she used it like a drum to beat out a rhythm, one two one two one two. She had lost herself in imagining an accompanying instrument when a sharp voice interrupted her.

"Is this the new torture? Making a racket so we can't even sleep?" the raptor asked, an unkind edge to his voice. Bluebell tried not to take it personally but the words rankled her anyway.

"It's not a racket," she protested, "I'm making music to liven up this dismal place."

"You call that music down here? Fascinating," Kaiwi drawled before returning to his attempt at napping. The Iggy guard still bristled with indignation but deflated when she realised there was no point defending herself to a prisoner. If the other members of the the court couldn't understand her obsession with melody, how would an uncivilised surface dweller even hope to grasp it? Reassuring herself with this thought, she began to look around the hallway for a quieter way to play. The cell opposite of Kaiwi's was empty, hence why she was guarding this hallway alone, and the bamboo bars called out to her in temptation. She tried the metal end of the spear first and winced when it left a sizable gouge in the jail bars. She would have to report that damage to a superior so it could be fixed, and she would have to come up with an excuse as to why an empty cell with no prisoner had a damaged bar. The handle was a success again, making a nice earthy thump against the bamboo and giving her a nice beat to bob her head to. 

"Can you stop?" Kaiwi hissed again, "I'm trying to get some sleep." Irritated by his protests, Bluebell turned around to scold him.

"Are you ill?" she demanded, "Why are you sleeping so much?" That made the raptor raise his head and look at her incredulously.

"They've been forcing me to work for my freedom, hard labour until they've decided I've done enough to be let out," he growled, "This is my only chance to rest, so kindly, keep fucking quiet." When he tucked his head back under his wing this time, Bluebell was too busy staring to contemplate beginning to play again. She only guarded the prison cells in shifts so she had never noticed when the prisoners had been taken out, or that they were taken out at all. Looking down at her spear, she sighed once more and laid it down on the stone. She had no love for the dissenters of Atlantis but she figured she might as well show some form of solidarity when someone was working hard for their freedom.