Bind, Torture, and Kill [[Active//Closed]]
Characters: Yazoo, Marluxia, maybe Loz if he feels like it.
Content: Revenge.
Location: A dingy, cold room near the water.
Time of day: Let's say nighttime.
Warnings: This is going to get nasty--bad language, possibility of triggering torture, torment, and assorted violence, will edit this as thread progresses. ALL VIOLENCE WILL BE MUN- AND MOD-APPROVED BEFORE POSTING.
The pain in his legs was what awakened Marluxia. Slowly, he pulled himself out that dark morass and into one of in entirely different nature. The last thing he remembered was Yazoo...he tried to move.
And again.
"Fuck."
Now when he moved, it was to take stock of his bonds. His arms were hung up with the forearms dangling--it felt like rope on his upper arms and he heard the clinking of chains in the vicinity of his wrists--clearly, Yazoo wasn't taking chances. Rope bound his useless legs as well, and he could feel the heaviness of metal rings at his ankles. Lastly, thick black cloth covered his eyes, though he doubted there would be light to see by in this frigid room.
With that out of the way, he reached out with the only thing left to him--felt around him, searching for some life he could bend to his will--but he was encased in a thick-walled concrete box, and what little pieces of the soil he could feel outside were dead, not likely to harbor life unless forced to by someone powerful--which he was not; not in Manhattan was he strong enough.
He bit his lip for a moment, then relaxed as much as he could...and he waited.
Content: Revenge.
Location: A dingy, cold room near the water.
Time of day: Let's say nighttime.
Warnings: This is going to get nasty--bad language, possibility of triggering torture, torment, and assorted violence, will edit this as thread progresses. ALL VIOLENCE WILL BE MUN- AND MOD-APPROVED BEFORE POSTING.
The pain in his legs was what awakened Marluxia. Slowly, he pulled himself out that dark morass and into one of in entirely different nature. The last thing he remembered was Yazoo...he tried to move.
And again.
"Fuck."
Now when he moved, it was to take stock of his bonds. His arms were hung up with the forearms dangling--it felt like rope on his upper arms and he heard the clinking of chains in the vicinity of his wrists--clearly, Yazoo wasn't taking chances. Rope bound his useless legs as well, and he could feel the heaviness of metal rings at his ankles. Lastly, thick black cloth covered his eyes, though he doubted there would be light to see by in this frigid room.
With that out of the way, he reached out with the only thing left to him--felt around him, searching for some life he could bend to his will--but he was encased in a thick-walled concrete box, and what little pieces of the soil he could feel outside were dead, not likely to harbor life unless forced to by someone powerful--which he was not; not in Manhattan was he strong enough.
He bit his lip for a moment, then relaxed as much as he could...and he waited.