drip
A strike.
Another one.
Another one.
drip
Another one.
A cut of a blade.
Another one.
Another one.
drip
Another one.
It was a litany he repeated in his head.
Pain flailing in his chest. Won't cry out.
Fire striping his back. Won't cry out.
drip
Like a razor's slash. Won't cry out.
The world was pain.
The world was fire.
He could not see it. He could only feel it. One eye was gone. The other swollen closed.
drip
Agony and inferno.
drip
Torment and flame.
Won't cry out.
He smiled. Certainly it touched nothing but his lips, but he pointed his head in the best direction he knew of Adrianna De`Seis, The Spider, who serves the Mistress of Torment.
And he smiled.
drip
She hissed.
The scourges began again. Won't cry out.
New. Won't--
Fresh. I... will... not...
Invigorated. Never--
From everywhere at once. Never! Never! NEVER!!
drip
And again, like every other time, he failed. He cried out. He was only human. He was only a man.
Hot air, hot as fire, was gulped hungrily through his gaping, slack-open jaw. The perception of breathing.
He throbbed. He was a pulsing flame.
But the beating had stopped.
But the cutting had stopped.
But the searing had stopped.
But the flaying had stopped.
drip
The end of something that part of him had been convinced would never end.
He tasted blood. It wasn't the first time.
It wouldn't be the last.
She had left again. She'd be back.
This was the game they played. Every morning. Every day. Every night.
The same game. The game of forcing screams from him. Of every inhuman act she could perform to cause the most agony.
The game was over. That meant it was night. He'd have a few hours now.
drip
drip
drip
drip
drip
And the blood pooled at his feet.
Why was he not yet dead?
He knew.
Death would be mercy.
To the Nihil, mercy is weakness.
drip
And the blood pooled at his feet.
A strike.
Another one.
Another one.
drip
Another one.
A cut of a blade.
Another one.
Another one.
drip
Another one.
It was a litany he repeated in his head.
Pain flailing in his chest. Won't cry out.
Fire striping his back. Won't cry out.
drip
Like a razor's slash. Won't cry out.
The world was pain.
The world was fire.
He could not see it. He could only feel it. One eye was gone. The other swollen closed.
drip
Agony and inferno.
drip
Torment and flame.
Won't cry out.
He smiled. Certainly it touched nothing but his lips, but he pointed his head in the best direction he knew of Adrianna De`Seis, The Spider, who serves the Mistress of Torment.
And he smiled.
drip
She hissed.
The scourges began again. Won't cry out.
New. Won't--
Fresh. I... will... not...
Invigorated. Never--
From everywhere at once. Never! Never! NEVER!!
drip
And again, like every other time, he failed. He cried out. He was only human. He was only a man.
Hot air, hot as fire, was gulped hungrily through his gaping, slack-open jaw. The perception of breathing.
He throbbed. He was a pulsing flame.
But the beating had stopped.
But the cutting had stopped.
But the searing had stopped.
But the flaying had stopped.
drip
The end of something that part of him had been convinced would never end.
He tasted blood. It wasn't the first time.
It wouldn't be the last.
She had left again. She'd be back.
This was the game they played. Every morning. Every day. Every night.
The same game. The game of forcing screams from him. Of every inhuman act she could perform to cause the most agony.
The game was over. That meant it was night. He'd have a few hours now.
drip
drip
drip
drip
drip
And the blood pooled at his feet.
Why was he not yet dead?
He knew.
Death would be mercy.
To the Nihil, mercy is weakness.
drip
And the blood pooled at his feet.