#morgg

I imagine that the ex-warden chose my company out of fear of the others. I breathed deeply to feel his spark buzz much brighter than it had when he was in a position of authority to confirm my guess. It's likely that Morgg considered me, a polite Person with my ability to absorb suppressed by the infernal device attached to my back and sitting alone, as much less a threat than most of the other inmates. I found that to be rather insulting but I had struck up a conversation nonetheless. My normal companion had been quite since my half-breed kin stole my hard-earned power and my chance at The Ultimate Prize... I'd have to hear his story one day before avenging myself on him.

"What did the hatchling accuse you of?" I asked, genuinely curious and absolutely bored out of my axial skeleton.

"Levin? The punk claimed that I murdered one of his fellow prisoners during a riot. Some fellow named Kwarrel." The ex-warden stated smoothly as he sipped his own drink. The other hadn't seemed to have noticed the twitch of my hand or the brief tensing of my shoulders.

The name brought back memories of pain and blood and battle and most importantly loss from before I came into existence. Kwarrel. I remembered a strong bond with a close ally—no closer, with spirit kin. I remembered sharing stories and fighting many forced battles together. I remembered the stabbing pain of loss and cold consuming fear the Other endured when taken to be used as a tool. I remembered the death of a soul from isolation and despair of an unknown fate of another considered kin. I had already learned of the fate of the One Before's spirit kin from the prisoner Quince at the beginning of our temporary stay at Altrezca due to "renovations" at Incarcecon. The wound left by the One Before was a festering oozing sore that any thoughts of His close bonded caused me… discomfort to say the least.

"You didn't?" I asked careful to keep the venom out of my voice. It was one thing to hear the story from the perspective of a prisoner and friend of the victim and another to hear it from the accused. I sipped my possibly leaf-water and subtlety bit the edges of the metallic cup.

"No," I briefly saw something in his red and black eyes at that moment, I could only describe it as smugness. His spark calmed during the lie that I had no doubt had been used many times. "That prisoner was likely killed by some of the others during the riot. I was close by, true, but I was trying to help my fellow guards calm things down."

"Is that true? Odd, you would think that a peacekeeper like he would have very few enemies." The rim of my cup was sharp enough to sting my tongue now and the container was near empty.

"Yes it is." The scaly alien replied in a tone that hinted that he no longer wished to discuss the topic.

Nothing wrong with granting a dead being one last request.

Merrowww….

A/N: I'm not sure that I got Morgg right but I tried. Please review and tell me what you think.