The Pink Room.mirror_brightlySeptember 15 2009, 06:19:44 UTC
The lights were fuchsia and Nero shut his eyes against them. He could hear Ayel working, could see the twist of wire and the heavy thud of hanging flesh as the Romulan hung the human from the crates. Stacked full of Tritanium-carbide, even both of them would be hard pressed to move them. Heavy and immovable. He could hear the breathing of the other, cold and shallow where the straps bit into his ribs, and opened his eyes again
( ... )
Re: The Pink Room.kirk_georgeSeptember 15 2009, 07:04:46 UTC
George awoke instantly, eyes popping open, struggling against the bonds, as he started to take stock of what was going on. What had happened? Last thing he remembered was following Jim...Dammit he was here too, still knocked out. George searched the room, looking for whoever had the sheer nerve to do this to him, to his son.
"Who are you?" He demanded of the two Romulans he spied in the room. Fuck...that face...it was almost indelibly marked into his retinas. "You're dead. I was told you were dead." His eyes alight on Ayel more intently than Nero.
Re: The Pink Room.loyalty_everSeptember 15 2009, 10:22:10 UTC
Who is this, what is he that he can take a full dose and speak? How dare he speak, when Eihva coiled up shrieking for mercy in moments from the exact same stuff, begging their jailers to yank her eyes out at the roots.
Ayel's face rippled. He lunged forward and struck with the flat of his hand. Knocked the man's words back into his mouth. "Quiet."
He shook the container, pried the lid back carefully. It slid with a hiss, shining wet at the edges. Coolant thinner ate skin very slowly; he'd have to watch his grip. No good pouring it out all at once, even if this man was staring in a weirdly familiar way, eyes too clear, blazing at him right through the drugs
( ... )
Re: The Pink Room.kirk_georgeSeptember 15 2009, 18:07:18 UTC
George bit his lip to not make noise when the liquid hit his skin. He already felt weird, like bees were humming below his skin, heart racing, need to move to run. Fuck, sedative. He hated sedatives with a fiery passion. Made it hard to concentrate, but he put the effort into it.
"Twenty five years and you'd think you'd have new dialogue. I'm not going to talk to you, I'll talk to your Captain."
Caught like the fly in the spider's web, Kirk jerked awake with a heavy gasp. There was no moment of drifting between nightmare and waking, just a sudden blaze of white-hot that seared his retinas and forced him into opening his eyes and trying to breath in tainted air. Shadow-light-shadow turned his blurry vision into a sea of dark and color, like stained glass in the night
( ... )
"I have died willingly once," George rasped screamingly. "I returned." He closed his eyes, diving for the secret spot, closing his eyes and reopening them to blankness. Made it. Secret self, wait it out, can wait out the attacks on flesh, hold inside the information until escape, not let him know he doesn't have the information they're looking for. "Lt. George Samuel Kirk, 587-63AB59."
Ayel wants to tell him this, but he doesn't want to do him the honor of it. Not if he's the one, the reason, the cause of the long night in that place, for which he must never and can never forgive anyone.
He has seen. He will do the man this courtesy. He will remember.
(Hevam - human [derogatory]. OOC: sleep now. Class tomorrow, ffffuuuu. This is your permission to godmod me if necessary. Also: does this mean COUCH FOREVER? D=)
It sounded like his father's voice, but in such pain. Kirk's head dropped forward and his eyes closed, concentrating on everything but the vision that was failing him for the moment. The hum of a ship below everything else - he was on a ship that wasn't his own. His father's voice - George was in pain. Attacked?
Pain - his chest, his arms, his skin. It was trickling along in his blood, making it hard to focus. It took a long time in the mind-space to figure out why the feeling felt familiar. Drugs, a bad one. His medical records listed the million and a half things he was allergic to, specifically what could be injected into him safely. Someone had gotten him with something that was definitely not safe.
He opened his eyes again with eyelids that felt as heavy as bags of sand, and focused on a painfully slowly white blob floating above more darkness. A person, he was pretty sure.
Very slowly Kirk's head lifted up. There was a voice cutting through the silence. His whole body was throbbing and his hand was even worse. He looked at the bleary figure on the table, but didn't, couldn't, focus on it properly. Just stared in silence, unable to find words to reply.
The hallway was warm, a temperature more fitting of Etrevon than Rihan tastes. He stared at the airlock, the seam where the ships merged, and his breath felt hollow. The two hevam...Kirks had been sequestered for several hours. Time crawled and the half-coherent feeds told them little beyond pink-murmurs in the dark.
His arms shifted and he folded them, a remembered motion from years long passed, and his right hand gripped his left elbow. The pain, spidery and old, drew his attention. It was distracting for a moment--Afvu'aaith. The new marks. His left arm--that was Ehiva...his wrist was ri'nanov, hru'nanov, N'alae. He turned his attention back to the hallway before him.
He was growing to hate the light. The color of it. It stained Eivha a lurid red across the top of his hand--he'd run out of room in the hollow under his wrist. That was for Sharra--ia'rinam, who had been beside them for the end of the world, only to be ripped away by Federation heroics. Maybe by the man still strapped to the table.
Hard to tell. They weren't saying enough, and the ship didn't know enough. Narada stuttered at him in pink half the time, klivam and Etrevon gibberish clouding the results. She had next to nothing to tell him about the prisoners, other than that they lived.
He wondered if she understood herself anymore. He wondered if she understood what they were doing. If he did.
Ayel folded his hands crisply behind his back to keep them from twitching, tucking Eivha out of sight.
"I can't touch him." The vehemence of the words burnt his tongue. "We'll have to try something else."
Ayel's voice was behind him. Angry, insistent. The way his words crossed the back of Nero's skull, slid over the mark for chi'Rihan, Nero wasn't sure he was actually there.
"You can't touch him," Nero repeated without inflection. His head turned, taking his arms apart as it pulled his shoulder, and his eyes slowly fixed on Ayel. The words rolled over in his brain, slow and fluid.
The ugly little family secret that just wouldn't die. It skipped, sometimes; none of the girls had it. He had been tested, secretly, and never shown any sign. He'd thought himself spared. Until now.
No excuses. Stick with what mattered.
The words tasted like someone else's, level and just ahead of him. "Ie, rekkhai. Esaahe... I can't; I didn't know." A flash of teeth. "He's in a lot of pain."
Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 22 2009, 05:58:57 UTC
The light was harsh and lurid as Nero stepped forward into it, crossing the threshold on the whispering floor. His head cocked sideways and drifted like a snake as he watched the motionless human. Shadows fell at strange angles as Ayel raised the level of the lights, activated the yellow and painted the room in convoluted shades of color. His feet were white and black as he shifted through the room, moving through the strange landscape of ill-powered lighting.
James Kirk.
His hand tightened around the combs as he surveyed the human. The bundle creaked under his fingers and a smile parted his lips. Ayel's shadow was fuschia across Kirk, the jar in his hand glinted yellow. Behind him, in the shade beyond the lights, the other hevam, George Kirk, called to him. Nero couldn't hear him. The combs in his hands were bright. He shuffled them with reverence as he stepped over Kirk, eclipsing him in a shadow that was all darkness and no fill. It was cooler here, cold and dark
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 22 2009, 11:33:59 UTC
Something green and blue cut across the darkness behind his eyelids, a razor blade against his consciousness. He had returned to the blackness of unconsciousness when the effort of contacting Spock had exhausted his mind. Then, something else, something white and blue that called out a second time. He was struggling towards waking (wake up) and his world gave a drunken whirl as he tried to open his eyes.
(now)
PAINThe body jerked like it had been touched by a spark, a breath sucking in roughly through the lungs and leaving as a cry that echoed in the length of the room. Blue eyes snapped open and stared at a face that was so close he could smell the thick breath it was releasing, the smell of its very skin, the smell of its hatred
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 23 2009, 22:20:50 UTC
The human snapped to with the stuttering attention of a live lamp, flickering into a conscious hum, crackling and spitting and eventually reveling in pseudo-silence. Nero watched his eyes, blue and grey, stained dark by the brightness of the Klivam light. He mouthed the syllables, one after another tumbling silent from his lips with his breath, and the soundlessness of it made Nero smile, cruel and wide. To date, this was his favorite sound from Jim Kirk-perhaps, if he tried, he would have a new one by the end of the day. He pulled his foot back, scraping it over the human's hand until it rested again on the grated flooring
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 23 2009, 22:41:13 UTC
Maybe it was because of the lack of feeling in the rest of his body - minus the constant throb of white-pain in his hand - that the scrap of nail felt far more intense then even the strong fingers digging into his jaw. Maybe it was the insinuation, the bite of the alpha wolf to prove its dominance on the throat of the lesser. Maybe it was the placement of that hand, so close to the soft flesh of his throat where it could end his life in a split second
( ... )
Comments 214
Reply
"Who are you?" He demanded of the two Romulans he spied in the room. Fuck...that face...it was almost indelibly marked into his retinas. "You're dead. I was told you were dead." His eyes alight on Ayel more intently than Nero.
Reply
Ayel's face rippled. He lunged forward and struck with the flat of his hand. Knocked the man's words back into his mouth. "Quiet."
He shook the container, pried the lid back carefully. It slid with a hiss, shining wet at the edges. Coolant thinner ate skin very slowly; he'd have to watch his grip. No good pouring it out all at once, even if this man was staring in a weirdly familiar way, eyes too clear, blazing at him right through the drugs ( ... )
Reply
"Twenty five years and you'd think you'd have new dialogue. I'm not going to talk to you, I'll talk to your Captain."
Reply
Reply
Reply
Ayel wants to tell him this, but he doesn't want to do him the honor of it. Not if he's the one, the reason, the cause of the long night in that place, for which he must never and can never forgive anyone.
He has seen. He will do the man this courtesy. He will remember.
(Hevam - human [derogatory]. OOC: sleep now. Class tomorrow, ffffuuuu. This is your permission to godmod me if necessary. Also: does this mean COUCH FOREVER? D=)
Reply
It sounded like his father's voice, but in such pain. Kirk's head dropped forward and his eyes closed, concentrating on everything but the vision that was failing him for the moment. The hum of a ship below everything else - he was on a ship that wasn't his own. His father's voice - George was in pain. Attacked?
Pain - his chest, his arms, his skin. It was trickling along in his blood, making it hard to focus. It took a long time in the mind-space to figure out why the feeling felt familiar. Drugs, a bad one. His medical records listed the million and a half things he was allergic to, specifically what could be injected into him safely. Someone had gotten him with something that was definitely not safe.
He opened his eyes again with eyelids that felt as heavy as bags of sand, and focused on a painfully slowly white blob floating above more darkness. A person, he was pretty sure.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
....
Him?
"...nnn..."
Reply
His arms shifted and he folded them, a remembered motion from years long passed, and his right hand gripped his left elbow. The pain, spidery and old, drew his attention. It was distracting for a moment--Afvu'aaith. The new marks. His left arm--that was Ehiva...his wrist was ri'nanov, hru'nanov, N'alae. He turned his attention back to the hallway before him.
The codes. He had to get the codes.
Reply
Hard to tell. They weren't saying enough, and the ship didn't know enough. Narada stuttered at him in pink half the time, klivam and Etrevon gibberish clouding the results. She had next to nothing to tell him about the prisoners, other than that they lived.
He wondered if she understood herself anymore. He wondered if she understood what they were doing. If he did.
Ayel folded his hands crisply behind his back to keep them from twitching, tucking Eivha out of sight.
"I can't touch him." The vehemence of the words burnt his tongue. "We'll have to try something else."
(ia'rinam - oldest sister; klivam - Klingon; Etrevon - Borg)
Reply
"You can't touch him," Nero repeated without inflection. His head turned, taking his arms apart as it pulled his shoulder, and his eyes slowly fixed on Ayel. The words rolled over in his brain, slow and fluid.
"ch'Thaessu crawae?"
Reply
No excuses. Stick with what mattered.
The words tasted like someone else's, level and just ahead of him. "Ie, rekkhai. Esaahe... I can't; I didn't know." A flash of teeth. "He's in a lot of pain."
(Ie, rekkhai - yes, sir; esaahe - control. Edit for slight formatting!fail.)
Reply
James Kirk.
His hand tightened around the combs as he surveyed the human. The bundle creaked under his fingers and a smile parted his lips. Ayel's shadow was fuschia across Kirk, the jar in his hand glinted yellow. Behind him, in the shade beyond the lights, the other hevam, George Kirk, called to him. Nero couldn't hear him. The combs in his hands were bright. He shuffled them with reverence as he stepped over Kirk, eclipsing him in a shadow that was all darkness and no fill. It was cooler here, cold and dark ( ... )
Reply
(now)
PAINThe body jerked like it had been touched by a spark, a breath sucking in roughly through the lungs and leaving as a cry that echoed in the length of the room. Blue eyes snapped open and stared at a face that was so close he could smell the thick breath it was releasing, the smell of its very skin, the smell of its hatred ( ... )
Reply
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment