Day 11
Were Daegsatz a writer, it would be around this time that he would realise constantly writing someone waking up in a gaol and having nothing to do was starting to get rather tedious. The monotony of waiting for the bells to pass had reduced any semblance of thought into mush the idly echoed around his mind. Sometimes he would revert to counting cracks on the ceiling, other times he would reminisce. The thought crossed his mind to attempt the sick man routine and try to escape, if only to liven up the days a bit.
Were Daegsatz a writer, it would be around this time that he would realise constantly writing someone waking up in a gaol and having nothing to do was starting to get rather tedious. The monotony of waiting for the bells to pass had reduced any semblance of thought into mush the idly echoed around his mind. Sometimes he would revert to counting cracks on the ceiling, other times he would reminisce. The thought crossed his mind to attempt the sick man routine and try to escape, if only to liven up the days a bit.
