† 002 † [video]
[Sindragosa is idly fiddling with the communicator. Her blackened, swollen fingers deftly jab at the screen a few times, and then she heaves a sigh, which sounds like air rasped through a tube of sandpaper. She leans back against the wall of her cell, and the blue light flickers out - the closest she will come to closing her eyes. The empty sockets are dark, eerie holes without it. Strangely, her mouth is stained with green.]
Was this prison designed to encourage escape?
[She tosses the communicator aside. It lands with the camera facing to the side, and onto a rather gruesome sight.
A boadach, dead, oozing green blood from numerous, ragged tears in its flesh. Its skin is blackened as though frostbitten, and it has a look of almost comical surprise on its face.
Of screen, Sindragosa begins to scrap her nails off of the cell walls.]
It certainly does a poor job of keeping creatures out.
[The recording continues for several minutes, facing the torn up bodach, playing that irksome scraping noise. Eventually, it times off.]
Was this prison designed to encourage escape?
[She tosses the communicator aside. It lands with the camera facing to the side, and onto a rather gruesome sight.
A boadach, dead, oozing green blood from numerous, ragged tears in its flesh. Its skin is blackened as though frostbitten, and it has a look of almost comical surprise on its face.
Of screen, Sindragosa begins to scrap her nails off of the cell walls.]
It certainly does a poor job of keeping creatures out.
[The recording continues for several minutes, facing the torn up bodach, playing that irksome scraping noise. Eventually, it times off.]