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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:39:50 GMT
He answered in the affirmative to this question as well, and Linnet sighed. Though she had considered the nod enough of an answer for the question, James continued with the same motion he had done in reply to whether he ate souls. She was not sure whether he was just confirming that, yes, Drake did something and that is why he became a soul-eater, or whether he was saying eating souls had something to do with the transformation. Either way, she knew that Drake was somehow able to change humans. She was not sure if it was a matter of chance or something he could do at will, but the thought bothered her enough that she preferred not to know. Her emotions showed plainly as she thought, ranging from confusion to concern laced with fear. There was something almost guarded about her manner though, but it was difficult to tell if it was just a matter of fatigue.
It was an odd world she had been thrown into, one of death and souls. Previously, these topics were more abstract than real to her, but now they were at the forefront of every thought. It was no wonder she was constantly on edge. Her mind wandered over several questions before settling on the realization that there may be other things that changed about James than just the soul eating.
She settled on one of the more startling questions that came to her mind, "Jus' 'ow long... Well, I suppose I should ask 'as it been long since it 'appened?"
Taken aback at the answer, she returned to her previous question without thinking, "'Ow long?"
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:39:56 GMT
He could almost read her thoughts on her face and wondered how taxing these answers were for her. Of course, for him, these were the facts of life: one day he was human and the next he was...not. But for her, to be exposed to this in such a short time, but to still retain her humanity, he had to admit that he was a bit jealous. He wasn't sure if he could ever go back.
After living so long... seeing so much death...the idea of dying was now more terrifying than it had ever been in the short duration of his true lifespan.
After all, something like him wouldn't have much of an afterlife, right?
Her next question followed along his thoughts, funnily enough. Perhaps that was just a common question? He heaved a sigh, his eyes tired for a moment as he nodded. A long time. Longer than he could count, since many of his memories were lost to the slow passage of time. But how long? How long?
James chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. He didn't rightly know. He didn't even remember what age he'd been when he...well... when the rest of his family had died. So he just held his hands apart, even with his shoulders, then widened them a bit more. A very long time.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:40:05 GMT
She had always thought of James as a boy, though one not much younger than she. Despite this death game, there was something unintimidating about him. She hardly felt threatened by his actions, which would have been odd even in her everyday life. People either seemed loud and aggressive toward her, or annoyed and suspicious of her. Part of that, of course, was the bad luck that seemed to follow her, brought on in large part by her clumsy and skittish ways. The other part was the superstition, which was surprisingly common among the lower class, about the unnatural coloring of her eyes. A kind word or gesture had been a rare occurrence in her life.
It seemed obvious from his motion that it had been a long time, though that could be relative, but she got the feeling it was more than that. There was something old and jaded in his gaze that she had never seen as old and jaded until now. It was an interesting thought and she felt embarrassed at how much she had just assumed. Of course, there was little basis for anything but assumption at first, but she had the feeling that she had missed understanding a lot of things. Her mind whirled with it, which did not help with her more physical feelings of illness and pain.
There was so much to take in that she felt overwhelmed. A niggling feeling of doubt rested at the back of her mind, ever present, questioning why she should believe any of this. On the other hand, James seemed so earnest that she could not imagine him or Drake making this up. It was all too bizarre, and fit too well with what she had observed to be a mere lie. To pull something like that off, both James and Drake would have to be excellent actors. She could believe it of Drake, but not of James. In fact, if Linnet acknowledged it, she would realize how desperately she wanted to believe James. The truths themselves were disconcerting to the highest degree, but she wanted to think she was not wrong about his character.
Suddenly, as haunting as a ghost, Drake's words popped back into her mind. "He might be cute now, has he promised that he will protect you yet? How about this? I'll keep you alive for a week, two weeks, maybe three weeks, and you can see what he looks like when he's hungry." As Drake had intended, the thought weighed heavily on her mind. It only made sense that one who ate souls would get hungry the same as a human would. She did not want to think on it, but she could not help it.
Unbidden, the question popped into her mind. 'Are you hungry?' She felt a vague terror building, and sought to conceal it by requesting, "May I 'ave more wa'ah?" A flush rose in her cheeks that was not entirely from fever, though her head drooped from actual fatigue.
After a couple sips, she felt slightly more composed. Still, a longing for solitude made her uncomfortable. Finally, a gentle, hesitant request passed her lips. "I... I dropped me knife. Is theh any way," she paused and looked up at him, just barely keeping from flinching away as the thought of hunger flicked through her mind again. "Could you find it?" There was a pleading in her eye, along with the all too familiar nervousness.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:40:12 GMT
She looked overwhelmed. Or maybe her fever was creeping back up on her? He wasn't sure how exactly fevers worked, so it was likely; though it was equally likely that all this information was pulling her mind down corridors best left untouched. She asked for more water after a few long beats, and he unfolded himself from the chair to pour her another cup and hold it to her lips. From the closer proximity, he could feel the heat radiating off her, likely expounded upon by his own coolness. When she pulled back, he set the cup back down and watched a silent tension pass over her features for a moment, still standing as if about to jump back into motion.
She'd dropped her knife. A long, long time ago, it felt. The knife he'd given her? In a moment of reminisce, he put a hand to his jacket, the pocket where he'd kept that knife. The knife she'd killed Lira with. The knife that had glinted off the sunlight on the roof as she'd pulled it on Hassen, before he'd pressed his face into Drake's shoulder so he wouldn't have to watch her fall. Her expression was earnest, entreating, and he nodded, perhaps a bit too vigorously, in response.
Why she wanted it, he didn't bother to question. Perhaps it would bring her some semblance of safety? Of course, there wasn’t much she could do against Drake, but if she wanted the knife, she could have it. He'd just have to figure out where it had fallen to, which probably mean skirting Hassen and climbing out onto the roof itself to look down at where it could have landed. Continuing to nod absentmindedly, James took a moment to wipe off her flushed face with the cloth one more time then turned to leave, offering her a wave and a small smile before shutting the door.
Hopefully, Drake wouldn't catch him out and about.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:40:23 GMT
James eagerly agreed, but Linnet had little energy to consider that fact. She held out until James left the room, his smile unnoted, before the shreds her calm facade seemed to crumple. Her breath was quick and light as she tried to quell panic. No tears came, at least not right away, but she leaned her head back against the frame of the bed, as if it were too heavy for her. In a way it was. She was weak and exhausted both physically and mentally. It felt as though a month had passed, though it had to be shorter than that. Of course, she was unsure exactly how long it had been since her attempted escape. What she had learned in that time was worth years of consideration. The realization struck her that she did not have years. Not even months. She trembled slightly, unable to still herself even as a new wave of pain washed through her. Even though she was sweating, she felt cold all over.
All she had ever known had been taken from her, replaced by a reality so absurd yet horrible, she never could have believed it had she not experience it. Now the tears did come, soft, steady, and unnoticed. She did not want to die. She did not want Drake to win her soul. She did not want James to be more than the unthreatening boy he seemed to be. Even with what James was, she could not help the instinctual trust she had toward him. All the same, she wished only for freedom. Linnie even wished for James’s freedom from what he had become, though she held little more than hatred toward Drake. Yet, in a way, it was James who was her time limit. Drake seemed sure that James would kill her in the end and the thought chilled her to her core. Her time was limited, but she did not and could not accept defeat to Drake’s plan. Linnet thought, rather unfocused by this time, that she may perhaps have a week to come up with something. With her luck, she could not trust fate to give her more than that.
Her eyes wandered the room as she thought, settling on the bowl of soup sitting not far away. It had cooled hours ago, but she realized it had been long time since she had eaten. She became aware of that odd combination of nausea and hunger that often results from a long fast. Of course fasting for Linnet had always been more involuntary than not. She was no stranger to going without food for long periods, and the desperation that came with it. At this point though, she hadn’t the energy to even attempt to feed herself. She settled into as comfortable a position as she could find. Long before James returned, she was asleep and firmly in the control of fevered dreams and nightmares.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:40:44 GMT
Linnet soon lost all sense of time. She rarely regained consciousness long enough to do much other than ask for water or choke down a bit of broth before her mind lost focus and she lapsed back into a fitful, shallow sleep. Her body was simply too pained and fevered to allow more than that. Recurring nightmares followed her, leaving her gasping for breath whenever they finally released her. Yet no matter how much she rested, Linnet felt exhausted and confused, and her moments of clarity were short. At times, she wished only for an end, no matter what that end would be. Her mind had already imagined and fretted over all manner of horrible deaths as she dozed.
Her dreams sometimes focused on her injuries, warped by constant pain as her body frantically worked to heal itself. She dreamed of James at times, but the dream often morphed him into Drake with his shark-like teeth and caustic taunts. Most of the time, though, she dreamed of fire. Whether this was brought on merely by a fever that would not go down or by Drake’s words during their conversation was not clear. Still, she woke more than once in a cold sweat, the smell of burning flesh in her nose.
When not dreaming, her mind fretted without coherence about escaping and the underlying panic that was concealed by her injuries. Typical of a half-awake mind, she would happen upon some far-fetched notion that seemed a reasonable, brilliant solution at the time, only to have it escape entirely from her mind the minute she was conscious again. In this way, it seemed as though an unsettling eternity passed, though it was mere days rather than eons. Even her waking moments took on a dreamlike quality, making it hard to separate reality from dreams.
During one of her short waking spells, shortly after James helped her sip water, she spoke without realizing it. Her eyes resting firmly on her knife which was laying on the side table. “I’d escape if I could, y’know? I’d take ya wif me, Sur James. I’d figure out somefin’. Fink you deserve that. If there were ‘ope, I’d….” Her eyes seemed distant and sorrowful. For just a moment, she continued mumbling, no longer seeming to notice what was around her until she lapsed into silence. It was not long before she dozed again.
--
Days passed this way without much distinction. Linnet dreamed of fire once more, her lungs trying to heave against the smoke but failing to allow her breath. Suddenly, in the middle of the night, Linnet jarred awake without a sound. She felt as though she had been splashed with cold water. It was a few moments before she realized she no longer felt hot. As suddenly as it arrived, her fever had broken. Her thoughts clear and distinct, she looked around a moment as though taking in the room for the first time. She was still partially sitting up, supported by a few well-placed pillows. She noticed James, sleeping nearby in a chair, curled up like a kitten.
After a moment of watching his sleeping form, Linnie felt the urge to try to get up. Her body itched for movement, and her mind began to worry over how long she might have been unconscious. As noiselessly as she could manage, she used the strength of her uninjured arm to lever herself upright. After just a few seconds of struggle, she found herself sitting up, one leg hanging over the side of the bed. Her ribs and arm protested at the new position, but it was nowhere near as bad as she remembered. She cautiously pulled her arm into her lap and allowed her other leg to move off the side of the bed until both feet rested evenly on the cool floor. She stayed there, pushing the discomfort back and allowing time for the blood flow to return.
Without much though, she grabbed for her knife and considered it a moment. Instead of placing it in her sash, she set it back down, struck by a sudden thought. Every movement careful, she pulled the apron from around her neck and waist and tied it in order to form a sling. Dull aches sprung from her injuries in random bursts, but she pushed them down and pulled her tightly splinted arm through the sling.
During this, James had not even stirred. Linnie was oddly grateful. She could not help her unease toward him, and was not sure how to face him. Her nightmares of the past few days had affected her in a way that his kind acts could not fully sooth. She felt a measure of guilt, but could not help the feeling that she would rather not wake him. A sense of foreboding once again pushed her into motion. She stood, leaning heavily on the corner of the side table in order to gain some semblance of balance. She felt weak, but it was not enough to prevent her from standing there.
Though taking a first step would be difficult physically, that was not the reason she hesitated. She felt the undeniable instinct to run and not look back growing in her; the urgent desire to escape at any cost. Some deep instinct told her that when she took that step, she would not go back. There was no logical reason behind this, but Linnet was certain that it was correct. She looked to James’s face again. If she escaped, she was sure she would be betraying him.
She was tempted to sit back and wait things out when that haunting question once again surfaced. ‘ Are you ‘ungry?’ She clenched her eyes, trying to banish it, but the affect was irrevocable. Her eyes flickered open and she took a staggering step, then another and another until she grasped at the footboard of the bed. She made her way to the side of the room opposite James, then to the door, opening it without a sound. Though her stomach lurched and her injuries throbbed, she felt stronger with each step. She stood in the doorway only an instant, looking back at James, before shutting the door.
As it clicked shut, Linnet whispered, “I’m surry.”
She continued down the hall, supporting herself with her right hand skimming across the wall as she walked. Every step brought a jolt of pain, but she pushed the nauseating wave down to the edge of her awareness. Her mind buzzed, clamoring for a way to escape. Deep down, she knew what she had to do, but she was scared to admit it. There was no hope for an actual physical escape. She knew that. All that was left, and all that she could focus on, was her soul. Drake’s goal was for James to kill her and eat her soul. He was sickeningly sure he could win and gloat over her death.
It was obvious to her now that Drake could not kill her without somehow losing her soul and she focused on that thought. She could not let James kill her.
She had to make Drake do it.
The mere thought of Drake angry enough to kill, to lose, chilled her. She could imagine it all too well, though it blended with memories from long ago of her father. Still, even the thought of that man made a feeling of anger start to form in her gut, lending her a feeling of detachment and determination. The impression of fire sat in her mind, waiting for her to notice its relevance. As she continued to think, she realized that Drake had mentioned something about how setting something on fire would perhaps make him angry. If so, she knew that could be the key to her supposed escape, but she felt sure setting just anything on fire would not be effective. It had to be something important.
She wandered a bit further before she realized the one place that fire would likely have a large effect in a short time. A library. She had an employer in the past who would never risk any sort of flame in his collection. It was her sneaking a peek into that sacred room that had gotten her fired, though she never actually stepped fully into the dark room with her candle. Drake, himself, had said something about not going into the library. Linnet was fairly sure of that. In any case, the books themselves would be a ready source of tinder, and she had used paper to start many a flame.
Though she had to pause to rest several times, it was not long before she found herself outside a set of double-doors in a hall on the other side of the kitchen. Her knees shook with exhaustion and her stomach churned with discomfort, but pure determination drove her to open at least this last door. Her diligence was rewarded with the sight of numerous shelves and a well contained fireplace. Fear washed over her, leaving her trembling and twitching from pain. Nevertheless, she took her first doomed step into the dim room.
The lack of thick dust told her this room was frequently used. She grabbed a tome from a shelf, a concentrated frown on her face. She impulsively opened it and tore out a several pages, dumped it to the ground and moved deeper into the library, crumpling the pages one by one in her good hand as she neared the fireplace. She reached a section of shelving near the end and repeated the process several times until she had a decent pile of books at the bottom, directly on top of the wood of the shelf.
Moving as fast as her injured form would allow, she shuffled to the fireplace. She was grimly pleased when she realized there were still embers active in the blackened wood that hunkered on the grate. She pulled the protective screen aside and fed some papers onto the active spots, expertly blowing small, delicate flames into life on the tinder, adding small fragments of wood, then whole logs. Building a flame up, or even starting it from little more than an old flint, was a skill Linnie had used many times. Even with only one good hand and a limited range of motion, she was able to manage. She had a couple logs burning well within minutes. She grabbed a thinner piece of wood from the small pile of firewood by the grate and stuck it into the happily burning flame.
Once then end was alight, she delicately withdrew it and moved to the pile of books heaped over the bottom shelf and the floor. She awkwardly kneeled to lay the fagot on one of the books that lay open. It began to catch, and she helped the slowly growing flame along by opening several more books and pulling out pages to start up more areas of flame. When that was steadily going in several places, she took the flaming log and thrust it into the middle of the pile. She looked around, wondering about starting another, but knew she had little time.
Instead, her eyes caught on a section of leather bound tomes several shelves away that where different than most of those she was currently burning. On impulse, she made her way over and pulled one out, opening it to a random page. It was hand written, perhaps by Drake? She pulled out several others, checking that they had similar handwriting, and dropping each to an open position on the floor. After the first several, she just started pulling all the books off the shelf and dropped them in an undignified heap on the floor. As soon as she was finished, she hurried back to the fireplace, panting hard. The first fire was already gaining ground, eating at the shelf itself. She ignored it, taking hold of the unburned section of a flaming log in the fireplace. She did not want to waste time coaxing a new one into flame.
She hurried back to the pile of journals. Before she could do anything more with the flaming log in her hand, she heard movement. Her head jerked up toward the sound, and her eyes widened with fear. Drake. Pure terror ran through her for a heart stopping moment as the flame hovered threateningly over the pile of books. She was frozen until Drake made his first move toward her.
Her voice trembled, though the threat itself was full of anger, “You will…. Let. Me. Go.” Each word fell from her lips, distinct and harsh. Her arm trembled with fear and weariness, then purposely dropped toward the pile. She continued with a sinister, “Or….” A few bright embers drifted down, one eating a hole in a page before it could fade.
Her breath came in harsh pants. Partially from exertion, yes, but mostly from mind-numbing fear.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:40:53 GMT
Drake had been entirely too curious about Linnet's slow recovery. Well, if it could be called recovery. She just lay in bed all the time, looking pale and red at the same time, sleeping. Boring. James spent a lot of time in there too, keeping an eye on her; though more often than not, when Drake poked his head in to bring soup or fresh water for her, James was also napping. Which left him to take care of the other occupants of the manor by himself. Which, naturally, meant getting rid of them. If he didn't do it now, then James, when he finally snapped, would probably go for them first. This was certainly more humane, though he'd accidentally...or not so accidentally, ended up killing Hassen in the process. But all's well that ends well, right?
Drake had not noticed anything particularly strange about this night. He was often prone to prowling around at all times; he didn't care to sleep these days if he couldn't help it, and poking his head into the room that held two objects of supreme interest to him was no strange circumstance. What was strange was the fact that the bed was empty. And there was James, sleeping on his chair as per usual. Drake shut his eyes for a moment, pulling a deep breath to keep his composure.
"James," he snapped, and the boy's head bolted immediately up from his folded arms, eyes bleary and confused. "Where is she?"
The boy turned his gaze to the bed, then back at the demon, his brain not quite caught up to the situation. He shrugged. Drake pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose for a moment.
"Well then, find her," he snapped, flapping his hands at the boy.
His mind had immediately landed on the worst possible thought, that she'd gotten an idea from when he'd gone and ran his mouth, but surely...surely...
James, on the other hand, was reluctant to open his senses to track down Linnet. It was becoming more difficult to stay composed. He didn't feel...whole. The scar was still thick on his throat, preventing him from extending his neck fully, and he was still considerably weaker than he usually was. Things that wouldn't go away until he ate. But he was keeping himself calm, sleeping when it became too much for him to handle and taking care of her when it wasn't. Even though she was obviously in a feverish delirium, her words had still struck him, made his throat close up, kept him strong. He would hold out for as long as he possibly could.
He didn't know what the end game would be, but it was worth a try.
Right?
Slowly he relaxed, taking in the manor as a whole, until he could smell the signature of her soul. His hands were balled up in small fists as he restrained himself, reigned himself back in, and started off, Drake following him.
As they drew closer, the demon's dread grew deeper. The library, the library, what other reason would she have to go to the library? Because she wanted to do some leisure reading? Not likely. He could smell the smoke now, and that little brat, how dare she? His teeth gritted. James's step faltered. Drake brushed past him, eyes alight now with barely concealed rage. Partially at himself, of course, but still. A human? How dare she! Into the library itself, he could see the flickering light cast on the ceiling, the smoke that was already starting to furl upwards. It smelled like burning paper.
Drake did not run, but his step was swift and quiet until he saw her holding a flaming log over a familiar pile of books. His breath came in a sharp hiss, and his eyes flamed. To her it would have only seemed like a few instants before he was closer, close enough to see the fire light from the log she was holding reflecting in her eyes.
And she spoke.
She thought she could bargain?
"You will die here, little girl." He said, his voice soft. His hands were flexing slowly as he tried to keep himself in check. "Put that back in the grate or I'll make it a slow death."
Things were burning already, he didn't have time to waste, but where was James? He couldn't...he didn't want to accidentally kill her, not after everything, but she.... He was on the fringes of coherent thought, there was a growing part of his mind that wanted to rip her apart to wipe that expression off her face. As it was, his body was shifting anxiously, trying to figure out what to do with all the adrenaline tearing through it, the anger. His hand shot out to the left, catching purchase on a shelf, and with a jerk of his arm he ripped a chunk out of it and made a gesture towards her with it, though it was hard to tell whether he was implying that she was next or he was about to throw it at her.
James, on the other hand, was hiding at the far end of the shelf, the whites of his eyes the only thing visible. He didn't want to have any part in this. He didn't want to hurt her, and he knew that that was the only logical conclusion of his involvement at this point. It hadn't quiet dawned on him yet, what her plan likely was.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:01 GMT
Drake's threat hit her like a physical blow. Dread seemed to flow through her being like a chill, emanating from her core and filling her soul. He gave his own ultimatum, but she seemed unmoved. Though her eyes were wide and frightened, there was also a certain element of growing madness in them. It was the kind of madness that wanted to laugh in the face of death, to call fate's bluff with the full assurance of victory. Linnet was certainly distressed enough in that moment, and her hand shook terribly, but she could still find that cold pit of anger and hate she harbored against Drake. A small scoffing noise bubbled from her throat, escaping her lips almost against her will. That showing of mad bravado bolstered her reserves enough to give her a foundation for more than pure fear. Now it was time to challenge the cruel hand of fate, to take whatever she could by force. Now, more than any other time, she could not let fear take her. She had no way to run, after all.
By his reactions, his anger, it was clear that Linnet had chosen the correct target. She could feel the beginnings of victory, but she refused to believe it was hers. After all, Drake was still managing to control his rage.
She jumped as his arm lurched out to grab the shelf and tore a chunk out of the sturdy wood with no more difficulty than tearing into a loaf of bread. Perhaps his anger was not as controlled as she thought. She recomposed herself, to some extent at least. A grim, hateful smile played on her lips for a moment, the best facade she could produce.
Her voice called out again, almost reaching a taunting tone, though her fear caused it to lack force, "And if I refuse ta die 'ere? 'Ow much ah ya willin' ta lose?"
Her mismatched, white-rimmed eyes drifted meaningfully to the books at her feet and back to Drake. It took all her resolve to meet his eyes again, to challenge that enraged gaze.
'Just one more push,' she thought, feeling sick with dread before she could force it back. She took a deep breath, then took the plunge.
"You fink I wouldn't?" The words came out nearly as a whisper at first, which Drake would just be able to hear at his distance. With more force, hatred fairly dripping from each word, she repeated at a shout, "You bluh'y fink I wouh'nt?”
Her scowling eyes never left his face as she lowered the flickering flame ever closer to the journals, her challenge clear.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:10 GMT
It was like the sound of leaves crunching over and over, reaching a fever pitch between his ears. He was mad. He, who laughed at silly mortals and their silly thoughts, was angry. And he was angry at himself for letting her get to him. But his eyes were compelled towards the embers that occasionally fell towards the pile, threatening, threatening. There was more life in that pile of books than in the girl threatening them. She couldn't, she couldn't.
Oh, but she didn't care.
She was taunting him, and he couldn't help but wonder what she was playing at, but those thoughts were quickly swallowed by the haze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his lips turned down. The faintest outline of his sharp teeth flashed in the firelight. Old instinct reared its head, telling him to take care of the problem here, to reduce this human to a small red stain on the floor, but he couldn't he couldn't he couldn't give in to it, that wasn't who he was anymore. He was better than that but she was smiling at him.
How dare she?
He was staring at the fire in her hands when she shouted, and his head immediately snapped back upwards to her. Without thinking, he threw the chunk of wood in his hands at her. It sailed past her head. Before he'd even realized that he'd thrown it, it was lodged in a bookcase behind them, into the spine of some book, and he was thankful that he had missed, but he wasn't, because now his hands were opening and closing again, he felt like a dog at the end of a chain, his prey just a little bit out of reach.
"I'll tear you apart, I'll- I'll-" He took a step closer to her, "I'll break every god forsaken bone in your sad little body and then you'll ask me to kill you, you'll beg me."
Drake laughed, but it was mirthless. It was frenzied.
"Just put the fire down, and we can talk this over like adults," he said, his tone suddenly switching as he grappled to bring himself back under control, his hands out, placating, but they were still opening and closing, and there was still that buzzing, that infernal buzzing.
He took another step closer, hands up, his eyes fixated past her face, on her throat, then on the fire in her hands, then on the books, then on her face again. He needed to focus, but on what? On what? On what?
James, on the other hand, was slowly slinking closer, curiosity on his face in some strange, morbid fashion. He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen Drake this worked up. Of course, certainly he'd been like this...before, but that had been before James's time.
Just what did Linnie plan to do?
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:18 GMT
Before she could draw another breath, the wood in Drake’s hand was flying toward her. She stiffened, unable to flinch in time, as the wind of its passing pulled at her tangled hair. Her eyes widened in shock, her breath coming in panicked heaves, her head spinning with pain from the way she had jerked upright. She wanted to look back to where the fragmented wood had buried itself, but she was startled into stillness.
Her thoughts hastily chanted, unpausing, 'I'm not ready for this. I was wrong. I am not ready. I am so scared. I was wrong.' His threat only quickened the stream of panic, and she remained rigid for a heartbeat. His laughter made her jaw clench. There was something in that laugh that told her he would enjoy every moment of agony he caused her. She could not help the pain-inducing shiver that ran through her.
His tone switched without warning, back almost to that soothing yet mocking timbre she hated so much. His hands still clenched and released continually with his tension, and she knew his anger had not dissipated in the slightest measure. She took a couple moments to regain her breath, to soothe her petrified mind with the thought that there was no going back. There was no point in giving in any more. Her only goal had to be to end this her way, not his. She could win, she had to.
Her heart still pounding, she managed a voice more level than she would have thought possible, "Laike adults, now ah we? Awl reason an' dignih'y."
Her tone dripped with bitterness, an odd tinge of anger and hysterics. There was no going back. She had to act. Her knees were trembling and she had no idea how she stood, but her arm was oddly still. A laugh of her own erupted in two short barks.
"No, this 'as been nuffin' but madness from ve start, 'asn' it, Drake?" She spat his name out like a curse, her cheeks flushed now with pure hatred as opposed to fever. "Wha's the 'arm of a li'l more, hm?"
Her eyes seemed truly mad at this point, to the point of being frightening. There seemed no reason left in her, only hate and fear and pain. Deep within herself, though, she was bracing for her next move.
A taunting grimace contorted her face as her fingers painfully unwound. Her grip on the flaming wood released and it fell, causing the flame to flicker in a rather mesmerizing manner. Her eyes did not track the movement however, but continued to glare a challenge at Drake.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:24 GMT
God, how was she still so calm? This wasn't how it went, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be in control, so why was she still so calm? There was something savage, empty in her voice. She had nothing left to lose. Then why this? Why not climb back on the roof and jump off again? Why this? Why this? It was like she knew, but how could she? She was just a mortal, she was just scum, a bag of blood and bones, she couldn't know she couldn't could she? And then she dropped it. She dropped it and that look on her face and everything shrank to the smallest it could be and he watched it fall, watched the hungry flame begin to devour years and years of his life, and really it didn't mean that much, but why was that look on her face? Why was she staring at him? She needed to stop, he couldn't handle this, how dare she?
He didn't scream. He didn't lunge at her, at least, not right away. His body seemed to sink for a moment, as if every muscle had simultaneously relaxed the instant she'd let go of the burning log. His shoulders rolled forward. His eyes darted for a moment, as if unsure where to land, sightless until they fixed back on the human, the human, the human, how dare she how dare she how dare she, how could she? He took another step forward, slow, like a somnambulist, like he was walking through water, hands still out in an entreating motion.
"You don't know what madness is, little girl," he said, his voice barely louder than the crackling of the flames around them, throwing his face in high relief, his eyes shining bright, his pupils mere pinpricks. "We can still talk about it, talk about it, talk about it until I rip your jaw from your face, little girl," He was murmuring now as he juddered closer, staring at her, staring at his hands as they opened and closed.
He didn't want to do this, but it would be so easy, so easy.
"I ripped his tongue out, I could take yours too, wouldn't that be good? It'd be so easy, so easy." His eyes turned back to her. They were wide, he wasn't seeing anymore, he didn't care. "I'll tear your life away, page by page."
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:39 GMT
She saw the change come over Drake as soon as the wood dropped, a dull thud sounding as it hit leather and paper. She truly froze now, like a rabbit pinned by the mesmerizing stare of a snake. A couple embers bounced up, landing on her bare skin and causing pricks of burning pain. She made no move to put it out, feeling distant from her own terror as she watched Drake's positioning relax until his eyes latched back onto hers, the hellish red reflecting the flames.
He took a step toward her and her world slowed and narrowed. Delayed, she staggered back a step, her hands trembling. His movements and words morbidly captivated her, and she could not tell if she was breathing. He seemed fascinated by the clenching and release of his hands as he muttered threats that sent ice through her bones. She hardly noticed her mind had taken up its panicked chanting again until it drowned out the blankness.
’I am not ready. I am so scared. I was wrong. I am going to die. I don't want to. I'm not ready.'
He mentioned something about ripping someone's tongue out, even as he threatened to do the same to hers. Her mind seemed to work in slow motion, but eventually, distantly she realized. 'Oh God, James...'
Her eyes flickered away from Drake for a moment, and she stared at the boy. 'Tore out his tongue.' For a moment, that realization seemed as horrifying as the rest of this insanity.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:41:55 GMT
In a sudden motion that nearly caught the demon himself off guard, his hand snatched out again. He grabbed her by the throat; her neck was so soft, so bitable. He cupped the back of her head and held her a few inches off the ground as if she weighed only a few grams, leaning closer as he pressed his thumb against her trachea, gently at first, then with increasing pressure, letting her suffocate for a few delicious moments before easing the pressure again, holding her in the purgatory of barely being able to take a breath.
"I'm in charge, you hear me? You don't get to tell me what to do. I can kill you! I will kill you, see how easy it is?" He was shouting now, eyes wild, a smile curling on his face as he shook her. "I could crush your skull like an eggshell, you want that? Huh? Do you?"
James, closer still, covered his mouth with both hands, watching with eyes wide. He was going to kill her; Linnet was going to die. What had she been doing? And the room was filling with smoke now, as everything fell apart, and there he was, standing still in the middle of the chaos.
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:42:02 GMT
Even if she had not been distracted, she would have missed his hand darting out to catch her around the throat. He was none too gentle about it, and she gasped reflexively. Her uninjured arm jolted up to scrabble at the hand at her throat even as he clutched the back of her head and lifted. A cruel finger found her windpipe and began to bear down, causing a sudden, radiating pain that grew even before airflow began to cut off. The gradual loss of oxygen was torment and left her struggling, her vision starting to blank. He released the pressure slightly, just enough that some air could return to her lungs. As her chest frantically expanded, her ribs screamed out their own protest and her vision swam as her eyes tried to roll back. She could hardly breathe, and every gasp was rewarded with pain.
He claimed control, literally shouting in her face and shaking her as she weakly struggled. Her vision continued to waver and she found it terribly difficult to focus on anything except the roiling pain and terror. He asserted that he could kill her, could crush her, and a new wave of fear washed over her. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? How utterly insane that seemed now. Regret filled her thoughts far too late.
She gasped out a ragged, "Ss.. stop. Don'—"
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Post by Pieluver on Nov 2, 2022 1:42:10 GMT
"What's that, what's that? She wants me to stop?" Drake laughed, drawing his tongue over his teeth in mock thoughtfulness. "Is it too much for you? I'm sorry.” He shook her again, his eyes narrowing, "But you don't get to tell me what to do, okay?" His thumb was pressing down again, but then his expression changed slightly, eyes darting to the left for a moment before his body seemingly relaxed again.
He began to lower her to the ground, easing the pressure on her throat. He didn't let go of her, however, hands still like a heavy weight around the back of her neck, forcing her to face him.
"Maybe I acted too brashly, Linnet, Maybe I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head a bit to clear it.
The demon leaned forward a bit, fixing her with his eyes. "Just strangling you would be too easy, too easy." He paused for a moment, his mouth open, salivating at the very thought of it, "I want to know what you taste like," he hissed, then promptly bit down on the side of her neck where it met the shoulder, careful not to puncture her throat.
He wanted to hear her scream, after all the trouble she'd cause him, that worthless little human, he wanted her to hurt. She deserved it.
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