Closed Reunions

~ Fallon ~

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Reunions

Postby Zandelia on October 12th, 2014, 1:48 am

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36th Fall, 514 AV - An Alleyway Near You


It had not been the best start to a day by any stretch of the imagination, though truthfully the current series of unfortunate events had begun the previous afternoon. That cold chill of a feeling had crept over her, suggesting to her that something was not quite right with the world around her. It was then she had noticed the following, different from normal taggers and trackers. These were more co-ordinated, smarter and knew how to work as a team. She had also lost track of Fallon, she had seemed to evaporate into the ever nebulous under-city that Sunberth was rapidly collecting after the decline of the Sun’s Birth. No…things were not right she knew. She knew this for several reasons - she was intelligent and observant after all.

The most observable reason, however, was the fact she was currently being run down by four of the trackers and knew there were others about most probably. She had lost them in the warrens of the Warehouse District for a time but that had only been a delay. They were closing in now and rapidly so. The net was being cast, boxing her in. Every alley was a danger, ach side path an obstacle course. She rounded a corner ad saw two of them before cursing.

“Grab her!”

“Shyke!” she snarled as she whirled around, the whooping and calling behind her indicative that others were joining in the pursuit.

She dashed down a right and skidded at a junction as she just barely ducked under a flitting shadow, peripherals telling her it had been coming from her right and leaning back to slide her side across the dirty floor – kicking up dust, a small window of blinding as her feet slammed into a wall and she sprang off it to begin the propelling into a sprint once more. A left, straight and another right – more ahead. Ducking left again and rounding the only corner…into a dead end. Fists Slammed into the wooden wall to showed moss free along with the splinters. Footsteps softly behind and she turned with tonfa in her hands. Not the usual grip, this time she held them as if they were clubs and the handles were catchers. She was surrounded, brutality would serve her better than finesse this time.

“Weapons down bitch” a younger woman stated calmly as crossbows were pointed at her, two of them.

“Take them or shoot me. You want me alive otherwise you’d have shot already. So…take them”

“Nothing said we couldn’t bring you back with bolts in your arms. Won’t kill you”

“Take. Them” she snarled as she fell into a defensive stance, left tonfa angled downwards before her and right horizontal above her head. Deep breaths, focusing her mind and trying to find that peace required for pure combat efficiency.

“Enough! Take her” the self-appointed leader waved them forwards grimly.

It was a short fight but a satisfactorily violent one, her weapons moving rapidly to strike out at different parts of the bodies around her. A hook around an ankle to unbalance one, a slam into the temple to rattle another, all the while her body pivoting and turning as her feet shifted to create a circular defensive offense. Both arms moved in unison, it was the only way to engage so many at once. She didn’t even have time to count – just react. No tactics, just speed and power. Three went down before she was smacked backwards into the wall by a suicidal dive that ended with a crushed windpipe of a corpse atop her and pinning her down. Of the other three to weren’t moving. Unless you counted red bubbling from their noses and mouths as moving. The other was shouting something about broken collarbones – or he did before the woman stabbed him through the heart with a rapier. She laughed as she did it too, crazy vagik.

“Ready to come yet?”

“Just resting,” she spat into the girl’s face, “help me up I’ll dance with you”

“Shut her up. Gods she’s annoying”

That was her last moment of consciousness before a meaty fist loomed into view and darkness enveloped her.

**********


A damp smell, musty perhaps, the room was clearly not used too often. Or perhaps it was by a large body of water. Either way her nose told her that when her eye opened she wouldn’t like what she saw. Pain followed that as her jaw and left cheekbone told her just how hard she had been hit. A few damp patches, minor cuts from the scuffle but nothing too serious. She tongued her mouth and found all of her teeth were still there – a minor blessing. Finally she opened her eye. It was a small room, looked like some sort of storage facility at first glance. Her vision was somewhat restricted fue to the restraints. Arms were above her, che moved and the ominous clanking of metal told her she was manacled to something. Angling her had up with a groan she saw it was a circle screwed into a wooden pole, which she was currently propped up against.

“Rise and shine,” a deadly cheerful voice chimed at her ears, “my you sleep in late. Not your normal accommodations but…it has something you’ve been missing”

“Oh? Does it get service? I’d like an ale please. You look like a tavern wench, why not pour me one” she spat to the side, the tast of blood from a discovered series of cuts inside her upper lip.

“I was thinking more personal, a small gift” came the altogether too reasonable tone as the finger pointed to her left.

Head turned and her hopes fell as her anger rose.

“I will murder you” was all she said, tone dark and steely.

There was the reason she had lost track of her partner, she was in captivity before she had been and she looked in a very sorry state indeed. Her heart went out to her even as it hardened and her face went very still. Better to not show any reaction that could be used against her, or against Fallon. Not yet, leave the niceties for when they were left alone. It was a common tactic in interrogation, leave you lone to stew for a while in your predicament.

"We'll see what you think when the others arrive. You'll not be so cocky then"

"Cocky is my middle name!" she shouted to the girl's back as the door behind her was slammed shut, "bitch. Bitzer...Bitzer! Wolf! You awake? You alright? Petch it al...what have they done to you?" she tried for as low a whisper as possible, they were practically next to each other after all. It was impossible to keep the concern from her voice - she just hoped they weren't listening too intently.
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Postby Fallon on October 12th, 2014, 4:30 pm

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Time had lost meaning; the ticks, chimes, bells and days had begun to blur into each other into little more than a long stretch of time. She knew not of the time of day, nor did she have a method to gauge it. Whenever she looked upon the room with her eyes it was darkness, whilst on other occasions it was blinded to her. Sounds of the world beyond was little, smothered by the near continuous noise that went on within the room be it from others or from herself. Voices, always the voices demanding sneering and shouting in their nature. But, she had steeled herself, focusing and reigning back in a refusal to give them what they wanted - even though she was not sure on what exactly that was any more. Pain had simply grown into more pain, and blurred behind the mental walls of thought.

Her head throbbed, the wrists aching and raw in their nature from the continuous rubbing of cuffs to flesh. The mop of hair had become dark with grease and filth, the skin a patina of colours from the various sources in Sunberth - mud, blood, sweat, and so on. And whilst the body was awake, the mind stumbled, barely forming semiconscious words and thought as it worked its way through. There was a rattling cough, the sting of bruises and cuts lacing their way across the skin. She could feel it more than ever now, the gentle creaking of joints, the faint jangle of chains as her legs finally gave up on her to leave her slumping whilst the arms simply continued to hang above. There was simply not enough willpower to keep on pushing.

But why the lacking willpower? Of course, torture always had its way of working its way in to the psyche - more so when they found something that worked, a weakness within the wall, a hairline crack to be exploited. To begin with their methods were little more than experimentation, seeing what ticked and did not tick, working her out and leaving her in silence. From there things only grew, or mutated, changing and growing quickly beyond her control. They found their spot, and they continued to hammer against it. The power of touch was their greatest weapon, and they revelled in the abuse of it.

Flesh writhed, the scents and feelings far too intrusive for her liking, and worsened with the situation before her. And as it continued the thoughts only of filth rested within her mind, stinging and far too real for her liking. And with that the bitter sense that she could not return home, if not only from her entrapment then the self inflicted exile - leaving her only to stew in the growing sense of isolation. Or more correctly, fester. The poison addled mind gave a stir when the voices sounded once more, barely flickering to life within the dull socket. The chin lifted, barely, weakly, the eyes flickering to see the blindfold once mores smothering her gaze. Lips parted into a pant, the granted blindness.

Skin trembled where it had been exposed, the body flickering and remembering what had occurred. Armour was stripped, the few raking slashes that broke the skin. There was a hiss, the mind jolting as it worked its way up and through the mental mire. Voices, there was more voices, the woman was back again, somewhere, just beyond her known senses. Legs gave a tremble, looking to push up but found no strength to do so. She slumped once more, head still hanging and the form stilling as it surrendered. Nothing could be done, it was no use to struggle.

So, Fallon dipped into a state of listening. Ears twitched, the words spat filtering in to her consciousness. Another prisoner, another body to torment? Was they now bored of her and looked to find a new source of entertainment? What did that mean for her? Was death to come? The spitting continued, the door slamming shut and leaving silence for less than a breath. And then her name was spoken. Or more correctly, one of her names. There was barely the tilt of the head, a summoning of strength from her core, which already begun to buckle.

Cracked lips broke and a rasp escaped, her voice dry and croaky in comparison to the usual tones, "You... I... no..." The head barely shook, the slur of incoherence taking over and masking for a moment, "Not... not here. No. No. NO!" It was far from a shout, if anything it was the difference between a whisper and a quiet voice - audible. Shoulder rose and slumped, the breaths quickening as her thoughts swirled and came together. Chains gave a rattle, the body leaning forward but suspended by what bound her, "A trick. A trick. Only answer." She gave a wince, the marks making themselves known once more. Her voice dipped down into a whisper "Please be..."
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FALLON
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Postby Zandelia on October 12th, 2014, 5:28 pm

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It was as pitiful a state as she had ever seen Fallon in, bloodied and bruised almost beyond recognition. There was no strength left, that much was clear from the sagging form as legs all but dangled and bent, her wrists must have been rubbed abominably by the restraints. Her head was lolling at first, though moving about with minor mumblings, she could see the chest rising and falling – it was shallow but it meant she was still alive. That knowledge was enough to give a thin sliver of hope despite the circumstances. She had meant what she said, she was going to kill that girl and anyone else who had done this to the one she loved. There would be no escaping from the fury. First, however, she needed to escape from her own chains, the metal was sound so she doubted it would break.

But that anchor however, how strong is it I wonder? she thought as she began to yank her arms forwards in an attempt t detect any looseness in its mooring.

Her wrists became chafed and sore almost immediately but she kept it up, turning her fingers to grasp the chains to take the impact somewhat as she tried and failed to get the metal ring to budge. Annoying considering it was a screwed in form of ring rather than a directly anchored one. She had o get out, she had to rescue her arms from the damned bracket. Fallon looked in no condition to fight, to even throw a punch at that moment, so it fell upon her to save them. As she had been saved by the other that fateful day in the Warehouses. There was a growing series of grunts, desperate hisses as she turned, crossing the chain to put her back into the pulling, the full force of her muscles straining as the wood groaned but did not give. She held her breath, eyesight sparkling with the strain before giving out and slapping into the flooring once more. She punched the wood in exasperation, that was when he words came.

“Shh, hush Wolf. It’s fine, honest. You always take me interesting places, we’ll be fine. I’ll get us out. Promise” she said as soothingly as she could muster, her hands were bound but her feet were free enough to give the other’s thigh a reassuring pat or two, if boots could even be called reassuring.

“Need to get this damned thing weakened first though, it’s in…tight…screwed” she pondered as if from a distance as a possible course trickled into her mind and she came back to her feet and then pressed them against the wall and walked up until her hands grasped the central ring itself.

She tried to turn it, it budged slightly but not enough to be called a success. She tried the other way…nothing. So to the right, that was the key. But how? Even if she could twist it the chains would begin to become entangled. She was not sure they were long enough for a full un-screwing. She had to try but it could just end in disaster. She opted for twisting it bac and forth as she pulled, trying to ease it out of its foundations. A slight budging, perhaps a half of a finger out before her strength gave and she fell down to slam into the wall. She was panting and sweating by then, energy sapped for now but she would regain it and try again, she owed it to the other woman to get her out – she didn’t know as she would get out herself but she would make sure Fallon escaped. Arms ached, wrists were bleeding slightly from the friction damage. She sighed and stared at the floor, unable to look at Fallon just then.

“Why didn’t you just come home?” she asked, the sorrow of hindsight in the tone, “I didn’t want this. I didn’t even want you gone. I was stupid. And now we’re in this petching room with these scum vagiks” she spat bitterly then.

“Are you alright? Can you walk…if we get you free? Could you get out? Oh…what have they done to you my wolf?” her face screwed up slightly at those words despite her resolution to stay as strong as stone.

“What do they want?” she asked.
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Postby Fallon on October 12th, 2014, 7:40 pm

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Again. That noise, that chink of chains, the grinds and grunts of metal as it was tested and pulled again. Her head whipped around, blindly looking to the source of the sound and the grunting that with it. Breath quickened, the creeping sense of dread and fear beginning to sink its way in. Closing ever closer, the blinding black that seemed to sink its way across the senses. Grunts grew, louder, stronger, definite in her ears, sinking and gripping its way tightly into her core. They were coming, again, to hurt to damage, to break at the walls once more. Breathing quickened, shoulders hunching in and tensing for what was to come.

Wrists stung, her head shaking growing stronger almost in refusal for what was going on around her. It was all lies, none of it was real. False, an illusion that should be cast aside without a moments of notice. Fake, unreal, teeth clenched, her lips peeling back as she felt the pulse quicken and the adrenal somewhere from the dulled pits begin to spit and splutter. Legs trembled, prickling almost in the anticipation of what was to come. They were coming, there were here, they would make the suffering start again. Labouring almost, she tried to place a foot beneath her, weight wobbling upon it before it slipped out. Chains gave a clatter as she crashed back down, the feeling of dampness clinging to her form as she heard the woman speak.

"Not fine. Bad, bad. Very bad," her voice croaked, trembling at the edge. The tap on the thigh forced her into animation though. Her entire form snapped away, breaths shooting up to be short and quick, the legs curling up beneath as she tried her best to scrabble. She snapped, obviously no longer quite knowing what was and was not real, "Don't touch! Filth! Filth! Petch off!" Nostrils gave a flare, wrists aching from the sharp jerk and forced movement to escape whatever it was. Muscles strained in complaint, the sensation digging in to her muscles as legs once more gave out and she was left little more than panting.

Somewhere above her hand had clenched, shaking and tender, skin bare where the gloves had been ripped off by force. They twitched, almost as if having a mind of their own, the palm contracting in and relaxing, juddering up and down as it struck upon the top the cuff. She could not see, something touched her, she was trapped, the words struck upon her hard and the reality dawned upon her once more through the poisoned mind. Panic, fear, it struck at her core, smouldering warming and crackling into those embers which would become a fire.

Silence took over again, whatever was going on beyond the blindfold would only be a hai. She doubted the voice was real, none of it could be - it was just the poison doing its job, the drug giving her hallucinations. Make her break, wear her down, make her into little more than putty to be moulded into. The start of a growl hovered in the back of her throat, so familiar of late within this cramped cage. The walls closed in, the air almost growing hotter with every breath. Head bowed, the struggling wrestle of control taking place within. Blood, she could taste the blood, she could feel the scream of bruises, the rise up of adrenal.

"Can't go home. Can't go home. Anger. Rage. Don't belong. But want," she gasped, pain wracking its way through, "Bad, been bad. So bad. She's angry. So... I..." Her head hung again, shoulders shaking as she spoke, "I'm not allowed. I need to... redemption. I want to... I can't find it. Not good enough. I just... want..." her voice cracked, her lips pursing into a line as she swallowed, "Her happy. Can't do it." She paused then, swallowing as she steeled herself, a flickering almost beneath as the other voice spoke of freedom, to escape the chains that bound her. It would not happen, "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Her entire form gave a single weak thrash, a wrestle with the beast as the balance as momentarily lost and the righted itself. Fallon's voice dipped into a whisper, "It hurts. It hurts. Make it stop. Make it stop in here."

Her head gave a turn, the fleeting thoughts of the mind split and reducing her down to near gibberish, "Rock, tock, tick and knock. Push and pull, back and forth. Do we not sway? Do we not swing?" Nostrils gave a flare, head turning to look but not quite looking with the blindfold in the way, "Like the pendulum, the pendulum of life. A small tap sends it spiralling, the smallest counter makes it stop. All small weaknesses. Small weakness. Little so little. The crack, the snap, the point out of the trap."
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FALLON
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Postby Zandelia on October 12th, 2014, 9:14 pm

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“Oh for the love of…YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH! Did I tell you to go? No. In fact I’ve been trying to make sure, to the best of my ability, that you were alright until you decided to stop being foolish. If anyone has failed anyone it’s me failing you so stop bloody hitting yourself over and petching over” she stated, there was a strong depth of feeling behind it as she took up her attempts to pull the ring free once more, the chinking and clinking punctuation her forceful but soft words.

There was strain in her voice as she tried to budge the ring further, she thought it moved ever so slightly but it seemed that would be the extent of her progress for a while as the strength of her arms gave out and her wrists complained to her that enough was now enough. She had been using it as a productive distraction really, a cover to hide behind from the words just spoken by the other woman, cutting and damaging as they were. She was no better than what Fallon was accusing herself of, she had et this continue for far too long in stubborn nature and now this – Fallon had been given a good going over and seemed to think she was even more useless than ever. She sighed and gaged the distance between them, her hands were bound but her teeth were not.

“Now…don’t move Wolf. No…no! I said don’t move. Let’s get you your vision back, then you can see how much of a dream I am. Easy does it, easy…easy…” she repeated the word quietly as she leant towards Fallon, sinews stretching as teeth grappled with the fabric around her eyes, missed a few times and then gained purchase.

She pulled, the rag tasted truly awful but she pulled and tugged all the same. Her jaw complained and it felt like her teeth were being stretched but she finally managed to get the blindfold off of her head and spat it to the side before shaking her head and trying to spit the taste away – whatever it had been sued for previous to being a blindfold had left a decidedly unique mark upon the fabric. She didn’t lean to touch Fallon further, clearly she was in some form of delirium, up close she could see the sickly sheen of sweat and she felt the heat of a possible fever upon her cheek as she had tied to bite the cloth. She hoped it was just illness, though in all likelihood the reason she had not projected her way out of this trap was because of drugging.

Sons of…well at least they haven’t got me like that yet she told herself as she leant back into the wall trying to forget about the taste and concentrate on getting Fallon together, she needed her at least functional on a basic level. Not to mention the fact that she felt responsible, that she cared about her mental state.

“There, and the next time I have to use my teeth it better be or something less disgusting in taste,” she stated after another few spits to the side, “now stop talking about imagining things. I’m here and we need to work together. This bloody pendulum plans on swinging back and kicking these bastards in the low places” she stated with conviction.

“Then, after I get you out, I’m taking you back to the Quay and we can talk all season about how wrong you are about yourself. Now…can you use what you taught me? Can you walk? Could you fight? I need to know, so I know what we have. Any minute they’ll be through that door and they’ll start their little games. We don’t have much time!” she asked, she needed to know where she stood – what they had at her disposal.
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Postby Fallon on October 13th, 2014, 12:21 pm

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There was a noticeable flinch when the voice was raised once more, the loud clunking and clicking of metal once more filling the space in between them. Her own gave a strain, crackling as she tried to force the sounds out of her rough throat; words, speech, communication with this entity that was beyond her vision, to try and find reasoning or a way around what was spoken, "But I ran away. I ran away when I said I wouldn't any more. I broke a promise didn't I?" Her head shook, lips trembling as she tried to hiss out the words and try to speak her thoughts clearly - if that was even possible. Her throat constricted, tightening as she felt the ever sense of dread loom in closer. She could almost hear the steps of pain incarnate come closer as she listened to the words. Her head shook, violent, blurred, and the froze when she felt the hot breath against her skin..

Animation ceased, a stillness as she felt the scraping, the faint dragging of teeth upon the fabric. The tugging, the pulling, the momentary tightness as it was lifted and pulled back. She did as she was told however, and so remained still and unmoving, a nervous chew upon her lip as another tug came. There was a wince, the screwing up of her gaze, the eyes narrowing down as she seemed to try and consider her next move. Her vision gave a blur however when the blindfold was finally removed, the dulled colours in this closed in room dancing, the sudden increase in light causing her to hiss only in irritation.

Dark shadows, the red sting of a bloodshot gaze screwing up. She felt half blinded, sleep heavy, her teeth grimacing as the dilated pupils attempted to adjust to what she was seeing. And in response all she could do is simply hiss and curse over the pain that was being caused to her. Another shake of the head, firmer this time, a muffled groan as she tried to hurry the ability of sight into something much more useful than just blurred outlines that were currently dancing before her gaze.

Of course she actually saw the other, the ghostly outline of a shape within the light. Teeth gave a clench, an angry blink as she tried to clear her eyes from the sticky sensation that covered them. Zandelia's voice spoke again, firmer this time through the stifling sense of nausea that took hold. The head rolled, slumping forward as she tried to think and work her way through what was before her. She was real, she was here. A flicker of tired confusion managed to grow and form upon her face, the breathing slowly beginning to find a level state in which to work up from. At least, until the mental alarms that screamed danger at her.

"Why... you... you..." She fell into silence, shoulders hunching in as she tried to focus. Caught, captured, both where imprisoned by chains. Her eyes turned to blink up to the loop, a slow tilt of the head to one side as the brightness - limited as it was - became more bearable for her head. A small pull, the lightest of a rattle against the loop as her mind flickered. Fingers curled, gently looping around the chains that bound her, the hot skin feeling cool as she tried to work through her thoughts. Her head rolled back to clunk against the wall, her mind falling into a lull as the eyes looked up to the loop and the chain that ran through it.

"Together, together..." lips gave a mumble, eyes closing for a moment, an attempt to grasp upon the key words. Ears twitched, the gentle scrapping of noise that seemed all too familiar snapping her attention forward. Animation came again, her head turning back and forth in an attempt to listen to what could be coming. Pulse quickened, the breathing rate climbed up again, a blink of eyes growing faster. Fingers tightened around the chains, a claw up of the embers into sparks, strain of arms as she grasped and pulled. One foot was placed beneath the other, legs straining as she tried to put weight upon them. Pressing, pulling, she tried to haul herself up stand up on her own. She barely got straight before they gave in.

A crash of noise, a grunting hiss as her strained throat let out an moan. Metal dug into her hands, the raw skin cracking and dribbling, her chest gave a heave her head hanging forward once more. She barely spoke now, trying to catch her breath from the movement and the exhaustion that came from it, "No... can't walk. Can't..." She shook her head mutely, her gaze turning away and refusing to meet Zandelia's. Useless, sprung to mind. She could hardly focus, the willpower needed failing her and leaving her spluttering at her djed. Another shake of the head, "Can't clear. Clear mind. Need clear mind..." She breathed, "Something blocks. Something."

Another shake of the head, the alarm in her voice snapping her attention back round. Eyes looked up to Zandelia's own chain and loop, the eyes flickering as she tried to understand what was going on before her. A pull of her own chains, the tenseness in them as she gave a trying tug, "Weakness. Chain link... pull, force... pressure." It reminded her of the equivalent of trying to sober up, slowed down no doubt by her current state both mentally and physically, "Don't pull from the wall. Pull from the chain. Loop, hang pressure at joining... Maybe..." Steps, she could hear the steps. Louder now, the gentle clinking motion that went with them. Keys, blades, pain, the faint slosh of water. Teeth gritted into a line, eyes looking forward beneath her brow towards the door. There was barely a swallow, "Coming. Coming... coming."
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FALLON
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Fallon
The Red Wolf
 
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Postby Zandelia on October 13th, 2014, 2:16 pm

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“When will you realise that I care more about your safety than if you were human and did something stupid?” she sighed as she slumped slightly, the revelations were not comforting ones.

She was clearly drugged by something, the way she spoke was sluggish and from a distance. She knew there was something wrong with her beyond abuse and lethargy, something inside that was causing her inability to use magic. She had seen her use it under more duress than she was in at the moment, this wasn’t a physical thing – it was mental. She growled at the unfairness of it, their best bet having been taken away. It was strange, it either meant these captors knew she had magic or were just very good at being lucky indeed. She was not so careless enough to expect the latter, the former was the better option to entertain. If she were wrong she would lose nothing, if right then she was prepared.

“They know enough about you to know to drug you then, and enough to capture me. Means they’re larger than just the few I’ve seen. Probably working for someone else. When we get out I’m going to find this third party and make them eat their own tongue” she stated flatly, she meant every word of that.

She could hear the movement from outside the room, there was little time left within which to escape and she knew they wouldn’t have long enough. Yet she also knew that they wouldn’t do everything to then at first, they would give a taster before leaving once more. Allowing them to stew in their predicament further, letting the fear rise up until they broke. It was the captive’s mind that usually broke itself, it caved and spiralled against its natural cohesion until it was like more but ribbons fettering upon the breeze of self-torment. She was strong, she would last. Fallon however, she wasn’t sure about. She seemed to be on the brink already, though how much was the drug and how much was her cracking she couldn’t be sure.

Keep their attention on me, off of her. Give her time to recover. Get her mind together. Whatever happens to me will be hard but survivable. I’m fresh. She isn’t she looked at Fallon for a long while as she thought it through, knowing there was no choice and willing to pay that price.

“I’ll get their attention, we aren’t getting out of here just yet. You rest, get your strength back. They have a new toy to play with, let them play. I’ve had worse. Whatever happens don’t give them anything, don’t react. No matter how hard, don’t” she spoke softly, closing her eye and trying to centre her mind as the cacophony grew closer, stepping just outside the door now and she curled the chains around her wrists until they were no longer loose – she had a plan to get their attention.

The door didn’t slam open, it creaked open upon rusty hinges – a nicely over-dramatic effect. The woman from before stepped forwards first three others behind her with assorted items. She couldn’t tell what they were as they were wrapped in greasy rags and thus hidden from view. A psychological ploy? Were they all tools or just the illusion of hem to make it seem there was always a level of suffering beyond what was currently experienced? How clever ere they, how good at this trade of theirs?

“Nice of you to drop by again, bring this lot from the kennels?”

“Whats you saying?!” one of the brutes clenched his fist and she took a deep breath, composing herself for what was required.

“I said you’re a mangy mutt who has more skull than brain. Why? Didn’t understand me. Not surprised really. Fools always run in packs”

“Why you little-“ he stepped forwards angrily, into her range.

She pushed upwards with her legs and took her weight with her arms as her legs came up to wrap around his neck, thighs squeezing around his windpipe as he thrashed at her. She ignored the pain as she kept squeezing, knees crossing know to provide leverage. His friends joined in but it was too late, he began to burble blood as his throat was crushed and she finally was torn off, her job done as she was punched ruthlessly in the abdomen until she slumped forwards, winded and trying to breathe.

“Impressive Web, very impressive. One less person to pay. No matter. He should be glad, he died between a woman’s legs” the woman laughed, strangely melodic and at odds with the situation.

“Why? Want…to…die the same?” she gasped out as shakily her legs started taking her weight once more.

That’s right, keep attention on me. Hasn’t even looked at Fallon yet. Come on bitch, do what you came here to do. See what happens after she told herself, firming her mental barriers.
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Zandelia
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Postby Fallon on October 13th, 2014, 4:06 pm

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Fallon had no time to object, the lips opened in protest the jaw slackening slightly as the words dawned upon her. But she had no true way of speaking back, not without it coming out as little more than a long moan. Besides, the clunking had grown louder, definite, the forewarning to the opening door and the return of her hell incarnate. Fallon's form froze, her back leaning into the wall and giving her arms some slight respite from their usual taunt state of leaning. Her shoulders hunched in, a look to them from beneath their brow. The woman she recognised from her previous sessions, the thugs seemed to change every time until the right ones needed were finally determined. There was a small swallow, her gaze barely flickering to Zandelia, the blurred state slowly beginning to come into focus.

Lines made themselves known, the shapes beginning to separate as he mind begun the process of sobering up. The icy gaze rested upon her briefly, lips pursing together and the brow raising in delight to her present state. For a moment she heard the step forward, the clack of boots upon the floor, the eyes flickering to the slender fingers and over all cleanliness that made up the woman. Fallon held her breath, the impending sense of dread, the feeling
- before Zandelia sharply kicked off.

Words were spat, the attention slipping from her and a sense of relief rippling its way in. But it was short lived. Fighting came next, the blows, the gargled shouts turning into the throngs of death. She barely looked, the form of the man slumping to the floor, the beatings upon her partner beginning. Teeth gave a clench, the head turning away as it bent and the laughter begun. A shudder was resisted, her mind trembling as it replayed the events - the memory of what was to come was enough to let the cage of fear slowly begin its descent.

Regardless, it quickly begun, the gentle probing and coaxing out of information to get what they wanted - which was far as Fallon knew, was little more than simple pain and suffering. There was a glance from the corner of her eye, a drift over to the rags that had been placed to one side for the moment, the sing-song voice drifting through the air. "Die the same?" there was a chuckle, "Never. You would not stand a chance. Besides only monkeys see and do." There was a drift, she heard the steps come between her and the other, and she glanced onto the woman's back, "I am far too intelligent for that. Besides... don't you want this tavern wench to pour you a drink?"

There was a dangerous edge to the voice then, one that somewhere inside made an instinctual side of Fallon flutter, knowing almost what was to come. Lips were wetted, her pulse quickening, the embers forming into tiny flames, burning as they begun to heat within. And then that gaze swept round and look back once more, "Of course, I would have to offer your associate one too... won't we? It's only polite." There was a flicker of a look back, "She is just your associate though, isn't she now? No one important to you?" A reach forward of the hand and the placing of a finger beneath her partner's chin, the gentle turning of it towards her, "Be such a shame if something happened to one who was so important. No?" She drifted away, a click of the fingers snatching the attention of the men round back once more. With a flick of a hand in gesture, the woman took her lean against the opposite wall and watched - clearly enthralled with what was to come, "Not yet though, need to work up that thirst don't we?"

There was little more than silence as the men begun to set about their movements. Punch, bruise, make the body ache and complain, make and mould it more for further, more specific punishments - they had done the same to her when they first dragged her in here and chained her up. And of course, she did not stand a chance. From there their catered things, worked and probed, much like the eyes of the woman seemed to be at the moment - she was no fool, Fallon knew that. She was thinking on something, the gaze flickering back and forth between the two as Fallon simply submitted herself to silence.

"You know," the woman purred, looking at her nails as she spoke, "Your Wolf is rather does seem to love her touching... don't you?" Fallon chewed angrily at her lip, turning her head away and sticking to silence, "So, so much. Begs for it you could even say. I wonder if you're the same?"
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Postby Zandelia on October 15th, 2014, 6:08 pm

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“Sure, pour me a drink. Come give it to me yourself….see…see what happens” she forced out between grit teeth as the body began to blossom with aches and pains.


The initial foray into bodily harm told her enough about this group to know that they had been practising their trade for some time, long enough at least to become reasonably competent at it. They pulled their punches so that pain was caused to her but no real damage, they didn’t hit hard enough nor in the right places. It was all arms and legs, thigh and forearm were the majority targets. Weaken her ability to fight back, cause her legs to fail like Fallon’s. Ripple pain through the larger muscles but leave the torso and ribcage alone…for now. For how much longer she didn’t know, her mind was completely occupied with preventing herself from screaming or screeching, from giving them the satisfaction. Teeth were grit together in a firm resolve as she pushed herself back up each time, refusing to let herself dangle.

“Bitch likes it” one of them guffawed to the other as he stepped in, presenting a target.

“Yes, I do so love it” she stated as her head snapped forwards as his turned towards her, edge of her brow slamming into and breaking his nose with a crunching spray of blood.

“Petch! Petching do ‘er one Bruce!” he screeched to the other brute as his hand came up to cover his breakage.

The woman just laughed at the spectacle as the blows began to rain, harder now and seeking to beat all of the fight out of her. The targets included her face now, though it was the cheekbones more than anything. They didn’t want to break her jaw or kill her with a blow to the temple. Thus she presumed she was going to be coerced into talking, they wanted to know something. She would burn this place down she vowed, there would be nothing left. Even if she was still inside herself she would burn the petchers. She focused upon that, trying to sue the imagery to beat back the encroaching pain as much as possible as those insidious words began, probing an testing her. She hated that she would have to lie, right in front of Fallon, but she had no choice. Another tally up for what she owed the bitch.

“Associate, I’m sure…sure you understand…that. Valuable asset…nothing more. Nice…nice try though” she smirked at the woman darkly, her face otherwise impassive and showing nothing but that affected smirk of confidence.

“You want…want to feel her up? Where…where’s mine? You got a…a…fine arse yourself. Unshackle me, how about we do a trade. One…one…grope each no?” she laughed then, it was so stupid all of this…this game.

It was cut short by the fists, both of the men this time seeing as Bruce’s friend’s nose had been reset now to an audible crunching and growling. Fist rained and feet kicked hers from underneath her so that her wrists yanked at the shackles and blood began to seep from wound sustained. They were making the metal slick but not slick enough. That gave her an idea for if they were left alone again. This was how it started, how they had started upon Fallon. Then they had clearly moved onto whatever this drink was. Poison? A drug? Something of that nature. Then they had searched for weaknesses with the inhibitions down. She knew Fallon hated being touched she was even hesitant with herself some days. She accepted that but now, now these people were using it and the thought of Fallon suffering through that. For days. Something inside hardened further, that little island where she had gone whilst in her father’s keeping.

People like this…they don’t deserve life. Preying upon other. Breaking them down. I’ll show them broken when I get out of here. Everyone like them. Broken when I’m through with them. This I vow. VOW! To any damned God or Goddess willing to listen. Just give me the right direction and I’ll purge them, get her out and I’ll purge the world she promised herself as she glanced briefly at Fallon during a pause and saw her mouth was open.

She shook her head slightly, this had to be endured. To save her from further torment. Strength, strength to fight back surged slightly and her foot lashed out to catch Bruce in the groin and a knee to follow up to the stomach but was weak and blocked.

“Dave…smack her one” Bruce growled between sharp breaths as he staggered away holding his privates and the fists came again, this time harder and to her forehead and stars sparkled, legs slumped forwards to be bent at the knee. Her wrists supported her for a time as breathing shallower and then deepened as she stood, more slowly this time, through the pain.

“Sure…sure you boys don’t want to cut a deal? Let us out? I can kick you there until I die you know. Never…never have a woman…again…or man,” she coughed slightly as she chuckled, her throat was getting dry despite the damp, “just kill missy here…go on….then get the…keys to these…shackles eh?” she asked.

She watched the woman’s hands clench around her belt and upon closer inspection saw the ring of keys there.

So there they are…very nice. Now how to get the damned things the thought flashed as her gaze hardened and she breathed as deeply as she dared, she had taken a few softer hits to the sternum now and there was a dull ache. Nothing broken she thought but it hurt to breathe deep.
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Postby Fallon on October 16th, 2014, 5:35 pm

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Strikes, hits and the bitter words of promises. They stung more than they let on, the utterances digging their way in and leaving the mark of doubt within her mind. Her wrists dug again into the metal, the mind coming up from a blur gradually. It was the painful and long process of sobering up, the mind plucking upon words and feelings, thoughts and moments as it tried to comprehend and keep up. And the pain was doing no duty in making the process quicker. If anything it continued to blanket the mind and push it closer towards the simple basis of survival. Cold, hard and primal - there was no two ways about it.

Her gaze still remained turned away, the gaze briefly flickering back and then away with a wince. She could not bring herself to watch no matter what happened. Staring down upon the floor there was a frown, her body still in its slumped state as the breathing begun to find some level pacing - if admittedly still quick. Nerves were beginning to ignite, the stiffened muscles beginning to stir and gather a sense of feeling. Amidst the laughter there was the occasional glance her way, she could feel the sharpened gaze upon her whenever it happened. She was thinking about something, the blows serving as a distraction to her partner from what was really going on. Planning, considering and judging of character.

Regardless, Bruce and Dave seemed to be having a wonderful time. Fists continued to fly, the rough grips slowly breaking her down. Fallon could hear it. A faint clink of metal sounded out, a gentle scrapping that forced her to raise her gaze up. That ring of steel, she looked at the fine blade the woman held within her fingers, a small step over and that low laugh escaping still, "Only an associate and a valuable asset... well, you won't mind then what we do to her then."

Fallon could not help but swallow at those words, her skin itching and irritating in complaint. Her eyes gave a flicker, looking to the two men - both bloodied from Zandelia's struggles against them, and then to the woman as she closed in and over. Nostrils flared, the silent blinking as she watched the encroaching, the point of steel pressed into her cheek, the moment of silence consuming as she felt the trace of it down her cheek to the throat. It was hard to resist shuddering, the moments of delirium leaving her to screw up her eyes and refuse to make contact - fearful almost that she would break if she did. The collar bone, a lift of the shirt fabric with the tip as she seemed to carefully inspect what laid beneath before she pulled the tip away. Release, she held her breath for a moment longer before quietly exhaling.

"Such pretty hands, don't you think?" she felt the tip of the blade press into one of her finger tips, a reminder that prickled against her awareness, her gaze looked up. It pressed harder, firmer, pricking the tip and letting a globule of blood come forth. It dribbled, and the woman placed a finger beneath her chin to tilt her gaze upwards. Another stir of the core, the pulse quickening as it became aware that something was about to happen. The knife moved, tipping at the top of her ring finger's nail for a moment. Lips twisted, the hand withdrew from her chin and Fallon was left simply staring.

There was nothing she could do but suck in the air, a hiss growing louder into a stubborn moan of pain. It pierced, dug and twisted. Eyes widened, teeth grinding as she tried to focus on anything but the pain. A growing difficulty as the mind spurred into life and the skin awoken. A gasp, eyes watered as her entire arm tried to jerk away, only to fail. A cracking cry as the knife dug its way in and promptly took the nail off. Laughter she heard as the slick blood flowed and she was left gasping, "Now there's a reaction I can get behind," Fingers firmly held the jaw, lips twisting into a sickening smile. Fallon's nostrils flared, the adrenal of pain rushing through her to the point of being near sickening.

Lips peeled back, the trembling growl growing up from her throat as she stared. Energy, power, strength, it buzzed loudly in her head, shoulders rising and falling as breaths grew deeper. Feet found themselves beneath her, a gentle crease of muscle as they throbbed. The pain swirled, the anger to correct this begun to bloom more coherently within her thoughts. Fix, correct, past judgement for their sins, remove the filth. Save Zandelia. That was the important one. Chains gave a rattle, the woman only stared back admiring the removed nail for a moment before promptly slapping her hand across the back of her face.

Fallon snapped. Fires roared into life, feet pressed and pushed her steady up. The once dormant muscles behaved and obeyed, awakening when she needed them most. A lunge, enough of one to make the woman step back, a rise upon onto her feet as she bit at her and released an angered roar into the air. It was sobering in its own way, the blood coarsed, the mind capable of working better now even if still locked in some ways.

"My, my..." The woman only smiled, "I forgot that you have a beautiful way of showing your fear. So unique. Maybe we'll have to give you a drink sooner to calm you down. But first..." Her head turned to the men, a look up and down, "Fancy having some fun with a different lady? This one does like a good rub down."
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Fallon is a Master of Intimidation, "At this level, a Master intimidator often unconsciously intimidates their target unless the intimidator monitors their stance, tone, and actions to prevent this. Master intimidators will nearly always have a reputation that precedes them unless they have taken special care to prevent it."
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Fallon
The Red Wolf
 
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