[ [ s a m u e l ] ] repaid with interest [ [ z e k e ] ]
Jul 30, 2015 20:04:16 GMT -5
Post by zeke on Jul 30, 2015 20:04:16 GMT -5
Dull, throbbing pain pushed through the haze, very subtly reaching him at first but the moment he shifted, the moment he made the slightest movement to his head, bright hot pain shook through him.
Instinctively he tried to withdraw, curl up, flinch back but he was strapped down and didn't have much room to move, and his eyes shot wide open.
Vision swam at first, wobbling, too bright; he closed his eyes a moment and then opened only one of them, trying to take slow deep breaths and piece things together. Everything felt.... scrambled. Not right. Off. He was laying on his side, strapped to an operating table. The side of his face was pressed up against it and if he tried to shift even a little, it sent a fresh wave of pain up beyond the already heavy constant. Around him, the room seemed decently lit, decently clean. It was more or less bare, though, and he couldn't say he recalled ever being there before.
Zwei, that asshole.
At first what came to mind was that he'd just been beaten and cut up from when he'd been caught. After all, the clearest memory he could pull up (still fuzzy, still clouded with the want, the need, for more magic) had him taken down by the shitlord. And then.... flashes of blood, pain - face down in a bright room, burning, burrowing into the back of his head and sharp and -
Panic took him again, what did he do what did he do what did he do and Zeke moved, teeth clamped tight as fresh pain outscreamed the old. He rolled back onto his stomach, face peeled off of the table, sticky from the trickles of blood that had crept out of the stitches to run around the back of his neck, and suddenly he could wiggle his arms free. Hand went immediately to the back of his head, to the pain, to the hurt and were met with the touch of sticky, raw stitches. He pulled his hand back - it hurt it hurt it h u r t - and he pressed his hands against the table, curling them up as the fresh wave of pain descended into something at least partly tolerable.
What- what had he done, what had he done?? That bastard had done something and as Zeke noticed the pile of data sticks to his side, his stomach dropped. Had he - - had he ruined the port, had he taken magic from him completely? Not that - please not that - and on impulse, driven by fear driven by the sharp rolling cloud of hurt that muffled all reason he reached for one. He did quickly look it over, catching the sign of light element on it and knowing that was enough to say this was it this was magic this was what he wanted and he needed it and it had to work don't let it not, and then reached behind his head to insert it.
Zeke's hand hovered for a moment, shaking and he closed his eyes, forced his breathing to slow to concentrate to be as gentle as he could. Fingers brushed against the port set into his skull and a small feeling of relief washed over him. Still there. Still there, good. He pressed the data stick in and - then he felt nothing.
No.
No- Nonono - nothing was happening nothing was happening something was wrong it - it must have been used already? Empty? Something - something else it needed to be it had to be not this not this not this.
It must have been empty must have been a trick, try another one - Zeke dropped it off the edge of the table and grabbed another - it found its way in much more roughly and his forehead pressed against the table, hand gripped the edge of it as he felt only pain only raw skin only blood and hurt and nothing.
Another one - would Zwei just toy with him would he take it away god don't let it be gone forever. Zeke reached for one blindly, pressing it into his port and that was when he felt something.
Sparks. Tingling. It was a sort of relief - static buzzing through his body, good, it felt good it was relief. The pain felt more distant and he closed his eyes, shoulders relaxing, breath falling out in a shaking sigh. He could... he could still feel the pain even through the magic and what was more, it felt... wrong. The magic itself felt wrong somehow and though he couldn't pinpoint it, he didn't care just yet. The tingling static wasn't quite enough to numb him, to take sensation temporarily away- though he felt calmer, felt better felt as close to good as he imagined he might feel there was still so much pain and he was tempted to reach for another.
Lifting his head a bit, he... couldn't stop himself. It was right there, so close, not right but right enough and if it could make him feel good.... he wanted it. Shuffling through the pile, Zeke found another. The buzzing felt so much louder than the pain immediately, limbs tingling and kind of numb- his pulse stormed through him, an uneven stutter between sharp breaths but he felt somehow less aware of the pain. His head was almost... light, though that might have been the lowering oxygen in his blood. Ten minutes of this ... it wasn't going to be enough but he didn't care. He rest his forehead back down and shut his eyes, willing it to last long enough or himself to pass out before it went away and the pain returned. He didn't want to risk moving, risk any shuffling attempts at escaping wherever this was because he knew he couldn't get far, he was going to just give up on escape before he started.
Whatever had been done was... done. He just didn't want to hurt, and all there was to do was to wait for something to happen.
Instinctively he tried to withdraw, curl up, flinch back but he was strapped down and didn't have much room to move, and his eyes shot wide open.
Vision swam at first, wobbling, too bright; he closed his eyes a moment and then opened only one of them, trying to take slow deep breaths and piece things together. Everything felt.... scrambled. Not right. Off. He was laying on his side, strapped to an operating table. The side of his face was pressed up against it and if he tried to shift even a little, it sent a fresh wave of pain up beyond the already heavy constant. Around him, the room seemed decently lit, decently clean. It was more or less bare, though, and he couldn't say he recalled ever being there before.
Zwei, that asshole.
At first what came to mind was that he'd just been beaten and cut up from when he'd been caught. After all, the clearest memory he could pull up (still fuzzy, still clouded with the want, the need, for more magic) had him taken down by the shitlord. And then.... flashes of blood, pain - face down in a bright room, burning, burrowing into the back of his head and sharp and -
Panic took him again, what did he do what did he do what did he do and Zeke moved, teeth clamped tight as fresh pain outscreamed the old. He rolled back onto his stomach, face peeled off of the table, sticky from the trickles of blood that had crept out of the stitches to run around the back of his neck, and suddenly he could wiggle his arms free. Hand went immediately to the back of his head, to the pain, to the hurt and were met with the touch of sticky, raw stitches. He pulled his hand back - it hurt it hurt it h u r t - and he pressed his hands against the table, curling them up as the fresh wave of pain descended into something at least partly tolerable.
What- what had he done, what had he done?? That bastard had done something and as Zeke noticed the pile of data sticks to his side, his stomach dropped. Had he - - had he ruined the port, had he taken magic from him completely? Not that - please not that - and on impulse, driven by fear driven by the sharp rolling cloud of hurt that muffled all reason he reached for one. He did quickly look it over, catching the sign of light element on it and knowing that was enough to say this was it this was magic this was what he wanted and he needed it and it had to work don't let it not, and then reached behind his head to insert it.
Zeke's hand hovered for a moment, shaking and he closed his eyes, forced his breathing to slow to concentrate to be as gentle as he could. Fingers brushed against the port set into his skull and a small feeling of relief washed over him. Still there. Still there, good. He pressed the data stick in and - then he felt nothing.
No.
No- Nonono - nothing was happening nothing was happening something was wrong it - it must have been used already? Empty? Something - something else it needed to be it had to be not this not this not this.
It must have been empty must have been a trick, try another one - Zeke dropped it off the edge of the table and grabbed another - it found its way in much more roughly and his forehead pressed against the table, hand gripped the edge of it as he felt only pain only raw skin only blood and hurt and nothing.
Another one - would Zwei just toy with him would he take it away god don't let it be gone forever. Zeke reached for one blindly, pressing it into his port and that was when he felt something.
Sparks. Tingling. It was a sort of relief - static buzzing through his body, good, it felt good it was relief. The pain felt more distant and he closed his eyes, shoulders relaxing, breath falling out in a shaking sigh. He could... he could still feel the pain even through the magic and what was more, it felt... wrong. The magic itself felt wrong somehow and though he couldn't pinpoint it, he didn't care just yet. The tingling static wasn't quite enough to numb him, to take sensation temporarily away- though he felt calmer, felt better felt as close to good as he imagined he might feel there was still so much pain and he was tempted to reach for another.
Lifting his head a bit, he... couldn't stop himself. It was right there, so close, not right but right enough and if it could make him feel good.... he wanted it. Shuffling through the pile, Zeke found another. The buzzing felt so much louder than the pain immediately, limbs tingling and kind of numb- his pulse stormed through him, an uneven stutter between sharp breaths but he felt somehow less aware of the pain. His head was almost... light, though that might have been the lowering oxygen in his blood. Ten minutes of this ... it wasn't going to be enough but he didn't care. He rest his forehead back down and shut his eyes, willing it to last long enough or himself to pass out before it went away and the pain returned. He didn't want to risk moving, risk any shuffling attempts at escaping wherever this was because he knew he couldn't get far, he was going to just give up on escape before he started.
Whatever had been done was... done. He just didn't want to hurt, and all there was to do was to wait for something to happen.
