[Video] Week 4, Day 3
[Click, darkness. Click, light. Bright sunlight. You can't really see where it's coming from, but what is unmistakeable is the stark contrast and sharp detail it brings the picture into. And the picture is the picture of a foot; not just any foot: a slim, almost dainty girl's foot, with a fading tan except for where sandal straps formerly covered it and flawless -- or flawless if not for the gaping wound located on it. It's not very big and circular; clearly a bullet wound. The closeup and almost deliberate-seeming lighting clearly show the opened flesh and the blood flowing from it, trickling in small, oh so proper rivulets down to the toes. Long toes that would be quite flexible in any other situation.
Maybe by now, you can hear a faint groan in a girlish voice.
Because it hurts, ohgod it hurts so much. Asano Rin is no stranger to pain, but still she's gotten away lucky, up to now. Minor bruises and scratches as a child, things that may have bled profusely and stung for a little, but weren't really dangerous; a slit in her belly that she'd been prepared for; and then dislocating her own thumb. The wind being knocked out of her lungs as Isaku threw her and the wind was knocked out of her lungs. Just recently, when she'd literally relived her childhood, a few more scratches.
In conclusion, this is different. It throbs in a constant pain, obnoxious enough not to go away after the first shocking impact. Right now, Rin's whole consciousness is filled by barely anything but hurt, blurring out all the other million thoughts (recent event, becoming a child, and then turning back, and already being in the clutches of this man, who was still a stranger to her but not his ways, oh no), dimming them to whispers that were enough to make her paranoid but not enough to truly alarm her out of her sort of pain-blinded state. Her head has lulled to the side, off kilter, but you can't see that yet, just wait.
The camera starts panning upward, from where her foot is standing on the grassy, mossy ground up her pale leg, pale as the sandal-strap marks, the muscles of which are tense; then further up still to her hip that is wrapped in the torn remains of her underskirt to just barely cover her most private parts. And then on and on, over a flat tummy that has a scar running down the abdomen and small, but round breasts, entirely exposed. The camera may have lingered there for a moment, but then it's already past the shoulder and neck on that head. That head that is kinda nodding forward and sideways, but still the expression is clear: contorted with pain, brown eyes wide, eyebrows slanted downward. Both are obscured a little by the bangs handing down in front of them, and her mouth is a little open, showing a hint of teeth.]
[Joker's arm is flush along her shoulder, buddy-buddy, because now, really, truly, they are buddies. He knows about her screams, and he knows about her childhood worries and mommy dependency, and he thinks he's got her number, this loudmouthed kid who couldn't even dodge a bullet to the foot. This loud-mouth girl without the guts, without courage, without stamina, who stands there and says she's sick of it and complains {just like a woman [bleeding bags of whores] so weak and pathetic and [dissonant] ineffective} and then can't even fight back.
Well, not that she had much of a chance. But who wants to play fair? a waste of time, a waste.
A hint of teeth and sweat on her face, and a blast of joy on his as the camera leaves his white, dirtied fingers, lazily supporting her body, and slides up to his high cheek bones and delighted, toothy grin. The lines on his face seem lighter, this time; as if a collagen injection, but obviously none found.]
You know, Rin, I was disappointed when I found out my pal Yukari couldn't bring me anymore bullets. Really tragic. But we can make this fun, can't we, pal?
[He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and purposefully seems to drag her about the ground a bit. The camera jostles -- it's now apparent the purple, yukata clad man is the film creator. He slips it down the ground, now becoming mood with her bleeding foot, and then back up to his face and hers.]
She's a beaut, ain't she, boys?
[It takes her a little. Her mind is still reeling with owowow it hurts, so there's a delay between Joker's uttering of his scornful, taunting words and their registering in her brain. But somehow, it seeps through, maybe because it's just that inflammatory. Much like the wound on her foot. But then he's already squeezing her shoulder, and she winces, and dragging her about, which elicits a hiss and then a full-on growl. She's had it, she thinks, she's had it more than enough. Already did before this whole business, when he was just talking to her. Well, now she has certainty. That her suspicions were true. And she can't even laugh, doesn't have energy to -- not even mentally. What a sad, sad world this is. But she closes her mouth, clams it all up, and her eyebrows slant downwards even further (if it's possible at all), and then she speaks.] S... stop that. [She was just putting one foot in front of the other as he dragged her, so as to not keel over, but now she's steadying her stance, trying to put up resistance. Not that she didn't do enough of that before, she thinks, but she's not one to give up. Like hell, she thinks. Who does he think he is? Who dies that asshole think he is? She feels indignant and enraged and oh-so-very helpless, and that fuels it even more. About this whole mess, having her clothes ripped off and then being shot -- way too quick for her to react; she didn't even see him pull out his teppo. Weird-looking teppo that it is. Rin is not used to such weapons, wasn't expecting it. Manji would scold her, and Anotsu especially. She has no energy to rage about that now, needs it to rage about the present and all that pain and humiliation. Because hell yes, this is humbling. This is so fucking humbling. She doesn't know if she's felt like this since the night her parents died. So pushed down to the ground until her body made a hole in it. Diggin deeper.] stop it! [More force now, more than a whisper. Not raspy, either. Just clear, sharp Rin-voice. Won't go down without a fight.]
[His laughter looks like this:
first the maw opens, and teeth and tongue connect with barking sounds of laughter that spit and spittle and flare up amongst a gouge of color that hits from eyes to chin to cheek. The pallid, white skin is flecked momentarily with brightness, and then the truth appears - his eyes are dots in nothinginess, that color the only thing that makes them seem living. His laughter is empty and meaningless.
And he's laughing at her because she's so very {pathetic} hilarious, and if he can remember {which he's sure he can [which he's sure he can't {memory is one of those fallacies that only the sane treasure} even get a flicker of a thought] get that spark back} the last time a woman looked so scornful and wanted to try such a fight --
BAM! He slams his heel down on her foot]
Stop what, sugar-tits? I'm making my presidential address! If you're worried about our precious here,
[and he grinds his heel into her wound, enjoying every tenuous tensing of her muscle, thriving, licking his insides with her sweaty temple -- my, a good idea! The camera settles awkwardly as the arm on her shoulder stretches to her chin, forcing her head towards his, and he gives a quick lick to her cheek --]
Our delectable princess, come see me. Find me. You know. Save her. Let's have some knights in some armor! It'll make oh-so-very gauche, and maybe just a bit fun? You think?
[He coos towards her]
You think, Rinny-Tinny-Tin?
[Everything goes white for a moment, just pure, near-blissful white. Her mind playing tricks on her, or being merciful. Whichever. She groan-screams, mouth opened wide and eyes going out of focus. It's really-truly-literally a world of pain. After the first few seconds, a word starts tricking in: why why why why why, rinse, repeat. She groans more, can't really articulate anything, or else she'd repeat her prior words: for him to stop, please, she's going to lose it. Whatever "it" is. Something she doesn't know, can't know, because she knows nothing but white and why. But then, maybe an eternity after he's stopped talking, she starts getting down, reaching out some roots to sink into the ground again. Come save her, he said. Right, help. That's what Rin needs. She's going to use this chance, for who knows how long he's going to leave the video on. So she musters all of the strength she can stretch together. Looks at the camera.] Yes. Help.
We're in --
[Cut to black.]
In conclusion, this is different. It throbs in a constant pain, obnoxious enough not to go away after the first shocking impact. Right now, Rin's whole consciousness is filled by barely anything but hurt, blurring out all the other million thoughts (recent event, becoming a child, and then turning back, and already being in the clutches of this man, who was still a stranger to her but not his ways, oh no), dimming them to whispers that were enough to make her paranoid but not enough to truly alarm her out of her sort of pain-blinded state. Her head has lulled to the side, off kilter, but you can't see that yet, just wait.
The camera starts panning upward, from where her foot is standing on the grassy, mossy ground up her pale leg, pale as the sandal-strap marks, the muscles of which are tense; then further up still to her hip that is wrapped in the torn remains of her underskirt to just barely cover her most private parts. And then on and on, over a flat tummy that has a scar running down the abdomen and small, but round breasts, entirely exposed. The camera may have lingered there for a moment, but then it's already past the shoulder and neck on that head. That head that is kinda nodding forward and sideways, but still the expression is clear: contorted with pain, brown eyes wide, eyebrows slanted downward. Both are obscured a little by the bangs handing down in front of them, and her mouth is a little open, showing a hint of teeth.]
[Joker's arm is flush along her shoulder, buddy-buddy, because now, really, truly, they are buddies. He knows about her screams, and he knows about her childhood worries and mommy dependency, and he thinks he's got her number, this loudmouthed kid who couldn't even dodge a bullet to the foot. This loud-mouth girl without the guts, without courage, without stamina, who stands there and says she's sick of it and complains {just like a woman [bleeding bags of whores] so weak and pathetic and [dissonant] ineffective} and then can't even fight back.
Well, not that she had much of a chance. But who wants to play fair? a waste of time, a waste.
A hint of teeth and sweat on her face, and a blast of joy on his as the camera leaves his white, dirtied fingers, lazily supporting her body, and slides up to his high cheek bones and delighted, toothy grin. The lines on his face seem lighter, this time; as if a collagen injection, but obviously none found.]
You know, Rin, I was disappointed when I found out my pal Yukari couldn't bring me anymore bullets. Really tragic. But we can make this fun, can't we, pal?
[He gives her shoulder a squeeze, and purposefully seems to drag her about the ground a bit. The camera jostles -- it's now apparent the purple, yukata clad man is the film creator. He slips it down the ground, now becoming mood with her bleeding foot, and then back up to his face and hers.]
She's a beaut, ain't she, boys?
[It takes her a little. Her mind is still reeling with owowow it hurts, so there's a delay between Joker's uttering of his scornful, taunting words and their registering in her brain. But somehow, it seeps through, maybe because it's just that inflammatory. Much like the wound on her foot. But then he's already squeezing her shoulder, and she winces, and dragging her about, which elicits a hiss and then a full-on growl. She's had it, she thinks, she's had it more than enough. Already did before this whole business, when he was just talking to her. Well, now she has certainty. That her suspicions were true. And she can't even laugh, doesn't have energy to -- not even mentally. What a sad, sad world this is. But she closes her mouth, clams it all up, and her eyebrows slant downwards even further (if it's possible at all), and then she speaks.] S... stop that. [She was just putting one foot in front of the other as he dragged her, so as to not keel over, but now she's steadying her stance, trying to put up resistance. Not that she didn't do enough of that before, she thinks, but she's not one to give up. Like hell, she thinks. Who does he think he is? Who dies that asshole think he is? She feels indignant and enraged and oh-so-very helpless, and that fuels it even more. About this whole mess, having her clothes ripped off and then being shot -- way too quick for her to react; she didn't even see him pull out his teppo. Weird-looking teppo that it is. Rin is not used to such weapons, wasn't expecting it. Manji would scold her, and Anotsu especially. She has no energy to rage about that now, needs it to rage about the present and all that pain and humiliation. Because hell yes, this is humbling. This is so fucking humbling. She doesn't know if she's felt like this since the night her parents died. So pushed down to the ground until her body made a hole in it. Diggin deeper.] stop it! [More force now, more than a whisper. Not raspy, either. Just clear, sharp Rin-voice. Won't go down without a fight.]
[His laughter looks like this:
first the maw opens, and teeth and tongue connect with barking sounds of laughter that spit and spittle and flare up amongst a gouge of color that hits from eyes to chin to cheek. The pallid, white skin is flecked momentarily with brightness, and then the truth appears - his eyes are dots in nothinginess, that color the only thing that makes them seem living. His laughter is empty and meaningless.
And he's laughing at her because she's so very {pathetic} hilarious, and if he can remember {which he's sure he can [which he's sure he can't {memory is one of those fallacies that only the sane treasure} even get a flicker of a thought] get that spark back} the last time a woman looked so scornful and wanted to try such a fight --
BAM! He slams his heel down on her foot]
Stop what, sugar-tits? I'm making my presidential address! If you're worried about our precious here,
[and he grinds his heel into her wound, enjoying every tenuous tensing of her muscle, thriving, licking his insides with her sweaty temple -- my, a good idea! The camera settles awkwardly as the arm on her shoulder stretches to her chin, forcing her head towards his, and he gives a quick lick to her cheek --]
Our delectable princess, come see me. Find me. You know. Save her. Let's have some knights in some armor! It'll make oh-so-very gauche, and maybe just a bit fun? You think?
[He coos towards her]
You think, Rinny-Tinny-Tin?
[Everything goes white for a moment, just pure, near-blissful white. Her mind playing tricks on her, or being merciful. Whichever. She groan-screams, mouth opened wide and eyes going out of focus. It's really-truly-literally a world of pain. After the first few seconds, a word starts tricking in: why why why why why, rinse, repeat. She groans more, can't really articulate anything, or else she'd repeat her prior words: for him to stop, please, she's going to lose it. Whatever "it" is. Something she doesn't know, can't know, because she knows nothing but white and why. But then, maybe an eternity after he's stopped talking, she starts getting down, reaching out some roots to sink into the ground again. Come save her, he said. Right, help. That's what Rin needs. She's going to use this chance, for who knows how long he's going to leave the video on. So she musters all of the strength she can stretch together. Looks at the camera.] Yes. Help.
We're in --
[Cut to black.]