11-14-2017, 02:13 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-14-2017, 04:20 PM by HDub.
Edit Reason: I added a content warning because I felt bad
)
author's note: This should probably have a content warning for things constituting as war crimes.
July 2017, earthbound.
… Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…
The water was cold, and while the rest of William was dry his shoulders and head were not. The room had always been dark, at least when she started coming it was. The first day, when Vriqiohr's followers came, they were of the belief that he truly was a friend of their reincarnated master. They treated him as a creature that needed to be observed and they had good reason to do so; Awakened beings were dangerous. The first attempt at leaving had been one of charm and lies; he had lied his way out of captivity before.
He was not a creature that liked being constrained; infinite beings never are.
… Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…
The water was cold, and the younger man held onto sensations while the oxygen from his lungs was slowly being depleted. A minute was where his lungs started to burn, but he wasn’t there yet. William held onto sensations, noticed everything. He felt the cold press of metal against his ribs and knew that even though he was on his knees the trough was a little taller than he could comfortably reach. That meant it was heavy- it was either a fixture in the basement or someone carried it down here empty and filled it later.
If he focused on minutiae, the Hermetic wouldn’t be stuck remembering other things, thinking about how badly it hurts when cold water first hits your lungs and how your body after a certain point just stops fighting and breathes. He knows those first desperate pushes to expel water from your lungs only to find more of the same. William knows what it feels like to die this way.
… Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty…
The average person can only hold their breath for two minutes. He pushes back to sit up and try to pull himself out of the water, but her hand is still gripping a fist full of hair on the back of his head. It’s close enough to the scalp and her grasp too steady to really turn his head to try and wrench free. He’s tried- the first time, the second time. What shocks William is how strong this woman is, despite how he can feel how delicate her hand feels and how slender her arms are. This is wrong. There is some aberration here and he thinks she can’t be human.
… One hundred five, one hundred six, one hundred seven…
The bonds don’t give. He’d broken out of zip ties and duct tape and instead William was faced with a familiar clinical sensation. Medical restrains are designed in a fashion that is intended to make sure that the patient doesn’t injure themselves or others, but somehow William still manages to do that. Earlier on he had head butted a cultist who had come in to check on him at one point to be sure he hadn’t gone anywhere. On Blythe’s first visit she informed William that he broke the other man’s nose, and had concluded it probably wasn’t safe to feed him anymore. Now he was at least still trying as he broke the minute mark.
… one hundred seventeen, one hundred eighteen, one hundred nineteen…
Pushed back more desperately.
… one hundred thirty-three, one hundredthirtyfour, onehundredthirtyfive.
He drew that first, involuntary breath inward-
Onehunthurstop-
-wrenched back hard enough that her grip almost faltered-
Stopstopstopstopgetupgetup
She pulls his head out of the water, holds him up while he coughs out water and gagged like he might well throw up whatever he may have involuntarily swallowed.
“I find your kind fascinating. Creatures of will and magick… nothing phases you, except in these moments.”
The only reply was the sound of his own breathing, trembling.
“My mistress rewards an empty vessel,” the woman told him.
“Stop-”
He couldn’t get a solid breath before greeting the water again.
One, two, three, four- (I can’t- I can’t- it’s everywhere, I can’t-)… Seventy-seven, seventy-eight (It’s too much)… one… hun…dred…
When he came back around he could feel where bones had cracked courtesy of resuscitative efforts on the woman’s part. The room was black, and he did not see her. He coughed, tried to pull in a ball but found he was too weak and too tired and too terrified to move. He’d found himself paralyzed from less, but found that more left one helpless. The Awake portions of his mind railed, screamed, demanded that he get up and fight back.
It was like this when Blythe came. He’d learn about hints about the gifts bestowed upon her by her beloved mistress. He would learn how hard she could swing a crowbar. He would learn how soft her hands were and how warm she could be and how he could feel her pulse in her wrist when she rested it on his temple when he couldn’t find it in him to fight back.
She learned that letting him talk was dangerous, that he didn’t have to have something in his hand to be armed. Blythe also learned something valuable- though he was thoroughly capable, William didn’t have it in him to mortally wound someone.
William laid with his head in Blythe’s lap, gently stroking his hair as though she were even allowed to bring some sort of comfort. She made gentle noises, shushed when she felt what one could readily assume was involuntary crying. “Beautiful,” she mused.
“What do you want?” he forced out; William hated how small he sounded. Hated how thoroughly and utterly terrified he was at that juncture.
“I want you broken,” in that same gentle voice she had used in comforting him.
As he had before, he fell asleep in her lap.
“My soft-hearted, void-touched boy,” she cooed to herself. Stroked his hair until she had to go back to work.
It would be another day before Andrés, Margot, and Ned came.
July 2017, earthbound.
… Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…
The water was cold, and while the rest of William was dry his shoulders and head were not. The room had always been dark, at least when she started coming it was. The first day, when Vriqiohr's followers came, they were of the belief that he truly was a friend of their reincarnated master. They treated him as a creature that needed to be observed and they had good reason to do so; Awakened beings were dangerous. The first attempt at leaving had been one of charm and lies; he had lied his way out of captivity before.
He was not a creature that liked being constrained; infinite beings never are.
… Fifty-three, fifty-four, fifty-five…
The water was cold, and the younger man held onto sensations while the oxygen from his lungs was slowly being depleted. A minute was where his lungs started to burn, but he wasn’t there yet. William held onto sensations, noticed everything. He felt the cold press of metal against his ribs and knew that even though he was on his knees the trough was a little taller than he could comfortably reach. That meant it was heavy- it was either a fixture in the basement or someone carried it down here empty and filled it later.
If he focused on minutiae, the Hermetic wouldn’t be stuck remembering other things, thinking about how badly it hurts when cold water first hits your lungs and how your body after a certain point just stops fighting and breathes. He knows those first desperate pushes to expel water from your lungs only to find more of the same. William knows what it feels like to die this way.
… Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty…
The average person can only hold their breath for two minutes. He pushes back to sit up and try to pull himself out of the water, but her hand is still gripping a fist full of hair on the back of his head. It’s close enough to the scalp and her grasp too steady to really turn his head to try and wrench free. He’s tried- the first time, the second time. What shocks William is how strong this woman is, despite how he can feel how delicate her hand feels and how slender her arms are. This is wrong. There is some aberration here and he thinks she can’t be human.
… One hundred five, one hundred six, one hundred seven…
The bonds don’t give. He’d broken out of zip ties and duct tape and instead William was faced with a familiar clinical sensation. Medical restrains are designed in a fashion that is intended to make sure that the patient doesn’t injure themselves or others, but somehow William still manages to do that. Earlier on he had head butted a cultist who had come in to check on him at one point to be sure he hadn’t gone anywhere. On Blythe’s first visit she informed William that he broke the other man’s nose, and had concluded it probably wasn’t safe to feed him anymore. Now he was at least still trying as he broke the minute mark.
… one hundred seventeen, one hundred eighteen, one hundred nineteen…
Pushed back more desperately.
… one hundred thirty-three, one hundredthirtyfour, onehundredthirtyfive.
He drew that first, involuntary breath inward-
Onehunthurstop-
-wrenched back hard enough that her grip almost faltered-
Stopstopstopstopgetupgetup
She pulls his head out of the water, holds him up while he coughs out water and gagged like he might well throw up whatever he may have involuntarily swallowed.
“I find your kind fascinating. Creatures of will and magick… nothing phases you, except in these moments.”
The only reply was the sound of his own breathing, trembling.
“My mistress rewards an empty vessel,” the woman told him.
“Stop-”
He couldn’t get a solid breath before greeting the water again.
One, two, three, four- (I can’t- I can’t- it’s everywhere, I can’t-)… Seventy-seven, seventy-eight (It’s too much)… one… hun…dred…
When he came back around he could feel where bones had cracked courtesy of resuscitative efforts on the woman’s part. The room was black, and he did not see her. He coughed, tried to pull in a ball but found he was too weak and too tired and too terrified to move. He’d found himself paralyzed from less, but found that more left one helpless. The Awake portions of his mind railed, screamed, demanded that he get up and fight back.
It was like this when Blythe came. He’d learn about hints about the gifts bestowed upon her by her beloved mistress. He would learn how hard she could swing a crowbar. He would learn how soft her hands were and how warm she could be and how he could feel her pulse in her wrist when she rested it on his temple when he couldn’t find it in him to fight back.
She learned that letting him talk was dangerous, that he didn’t have to have something in his hand to be armed. Blythe also learned something valuable- though he was thoroughly capable, William didn’t have it in him to mortally wound someone.
William laid with his head in Blythe’s lap, gently stroking his hair as though she were even allowed to bring some sort of comfort. She made gentle noises, shushed when she felt what one could readily assume was involuntary crying. “Beautiful,” she mused.
“What do you want?” he forced out; William hated how small he sounded. Hated how thoroughly and utterly terrified he was at that juncture.
“I want you broken,” in that same gentle voice she had used in comforting him.
As he had before, he fell asleep in her lap.
“My soft-hearted, void-touched boy,” she cooed to herself. Stroked his hair until she had to go back to work.
It would be another day before Andrés, Margot, and Ned came.