[closed/complete]
Characters: Echo (parallelparrot) and Famine (eatasam)
Date/Time: Early Friday morning, 9/2
Location: An office building basement
Rating: R
Warnings: Light violence, kidnapping, Famine
Summary: A Horseman caught a nymph, in the unpleasant sense.
The cigarette felt weightless in Famine's fingers. Moreso than usual. He felt as if he was holding the air, all of his movements languid and automatic.
Were it possible to feel outside of one's body, he would've described the sensation as such. The snatch, the piggyback to a taxi, the raid at Mordred's empty flat. Everything led to the Black Horseman leaning his weight into a cold wall, cigarette at his lips and eyes on the crumbled form not five feet away.
Echo. Polly, Erica -- whatever he decided her name was. She had been a perfect victim in his eyes, still was as far as he was concerned. Gazing down at her brought a deluge of loathing over him, of a need to see her broken and bruised and very possibly close to dead after what had happened with him, after what she'd done with Pestilence. After what she'd made him become.
And in a way, she had been the catalyst. The very beginning of a series of events that would change the Horsemen, make them so much more human than they were used to being. Emotions had run rampant; vile words had been shared. Yet Famine would do anything for Pestilence, and if that meant mopping the floor with the nymph, he'd gladly rip out her feathers.
Three hours had elapsed. No one ever stayed unconscious after eight.
~*~
Pain reverberated dully through Echo’s entire body. Aching down to her bones. She had no idea what she could have been doing to hurt this bad.
The last thing she remembered clearly was walking, she had been heading home from her dancing lesson when someone grabbed her, being tugged into an alley and recognizing Famine's freckled face. Everything had gone wonky when he stopped her from screaming, pressing himself close to her.
Whatever his intentions were towards her she couldn't tell, but she was getting the distinct impression that he hadn't left her alone after that. Blinking her eyes open - it took more effort than she thought it would due to how dry they were - she waited for her vision to adjust as she attempted to bring a hand up to rub her eyes.
That's when she felt it, the wrenching sensation of her arms being in an uncomfortable position. Gritting her teeth, the nymph wriggled slightly trying to figure out why it was so dark and her movement was limited. Had she known her arms were tied to a pipe and she was blindfolded she'd be panicking, but ignorance was bliss.
Her mouth opened and she whimpered. She needed a drink and an explanation.
~*~
The girl was peered at for another minute or so as Famine finished off his cigarette, dropping it soundlessly to the floor without crushing it. His footsteps toward Echo were slow, quiet. This wasn't going to be rushed. Little sound came from his direction, save for the slight crunch of denim as he crouched down next to her, one knee almost close enough to graze her chest.
A hand reached out, mockingly brushing the loose hair from her blindfolded eyes. But he stayed silent as ever, wanting that flinch, that unseeing glance into his face.
~*~
The twitch of her nose at the smell of a cigarette was the only movement Echo made once she accepted that her arms weren't cooperating. Her nerves were tense as Famine moved, the near-imperceptible change in the air making her hair stand on edge. Her head whipped in the direction the sound from his jeans seemed to come from.
As she felt someone touching her hair she instinctively shrank back and ducked her head down. She had her suspicions as to who was touching her, but she had no way of asking.
~*~
That was part of the charm: that if Echo wanted to say anything, she couldn't. Would she choose to scream eventually? No one would hear her, yet there was no way for her to know that. There was no way to know where she was at all, but perhaps over time, it'd be clear that she was in a basement.
Famine didn't draw his hand away, tracing the back of his index finger across the delicate curve of her cheekbone. Fleshbags, all of them were so soft and breakable. But he was human now, wasn't he? Mostly. He was caught in the rift between human and Horseman, unsure of how he could stand on either side. Unsure of how to be both.
But it was the Horseman within that had him leaning forward, hovering his lips by her neck. "Why so quiet, Polly?"
~*~
All the things she wanted to say were tumbling in her head: not that Famine would have answered her had she been able to ask. Fear mounting the longer that hand stayed against her skin, the urge to scream was rising. The only thing stopping her was the lack of moisture in her mouth and throat.
Echo shook her head from side to side, wanting to get as far away from the finger gliding along her cheek as she could. Squeezing her eyes shut under the blindfold, she felt tears start to form. She fought them back, not wanting whoever her tormenter was to see the effect he was having on her. She had to remain strong.
Hot breath on her neck had the nymph trembling, sickened at the sound of that familiar voice. "Quiet, Polly..." she managed to croak out, her voice shaky.
~*~
To contrast with her rising emotions, Famine remained perfectly impassive and unmoved by the display, momentarily removing his hand once she'd opened her mouth and uttered a damn word. "It speaks. Can it say anything else?" Those fingers came to her throat this time, fingertips grazing the bony ridges, beyond which were her vocal cords. Her sad, ineffectual vocal cords.
Someday, he would have to try giving her words to repeat back to him, like a proper owner and his parrot. For the moment, however, he was content to play with her before ripping her wings to pieces.
~*~
Entertaining over a dozen possibilities as to where she was and why, Echo was effectively doing her damnedest to convince herself that there was some chance, slim as it might be, that this wasn't happening. His touch on her throat spoiled that notion. "Say anything else," she dutifully mimicked, a pleading note entering her voice.
Foolishly, she held tight to the hope that he had even a drop of empathy and would let her go or explain this was all some prank. It was a longshot, especially since she knew he loathed her, but hope springs eternal.
~*~
Keeping that close proximity, the Horseman canted his head to the side. That gentle touch soon became nails scraping down the front of her throat, digging in deep. It was unfortunate that the blindfold denied him the satisfaction of watching the fear grow in her eyes, but he still kept an eye out for the telltale signs of her distress. As if it wasn't evident enough in her voice.
"I asked you first," he whispered in return, gaze tracing her features with only half interest.
~*~
Wincing at the sudden scratching, the nymph bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. This whole situation was like something out of a bad horror movie, except it was really happening to her. She kept asking herself what she might have done to deserve this, after all it had been months since she last interacted with him or his brother.
"You... first," she whispered back to him, her voice breaking although she tried to prevent it.
~*~
The crack in her voice was expected, and Famine withdrew his touch entirely, merely watching her for a while. It wouldn't be fair to savor this all for himself. He owed it to his siblings to let them have their fair share of breaking her. In time, he'd contact them, let them know they had a perfectly unwilling target tied up and waiting for them.
He pushed up to his feet, looking down on the girl apathetically all the while. "Scream if you can, Echo. But no one will hear you." With that, he slid both hands into his pockets, turning to leave. That cigarette, still left to burn on the cool floor, was ignored as Famine left Echo to her misery.
Date/Time: Early Friday morning, 9/2
Location: An office building basement
Rating: R
Warnings: Light violence, kidnapping, Famine
Summary: A Horseman caught a nymph, in the unpleasant sense.
The cigarette felt weightless in Famine's fingers. Moreso than usual. He felt as if he was holding the air, all of his movements languid and automatic.
Were it possible to feel outside of one's body, he would've described the sensation as such. The snatch, the piggyback to a taxi, the raid at Mordred's empty flat. Everything led to the Black Horseman leaning his weight into a cold wall, cigarette at his lips and eyes on the crumbled form not five feet away.
Echo. Polly, Erica -- whatever he decided her name was. She had been a perfect victim in his eyes, still was as far as he was concerned. Gazing down at her brought a deluge of loathing over him, of a need to see her broken and bruised and very possibly close to dead after what had happened with him, after what she'd done with Pestilence. After what she'd made him become.
And in a way, she had been the catalyst. The very beginning of a series of events that would change the Horsemen, make them so much more human than they were used to being. Emotions had run rampant; vile words had been shared. Yet Famine would do anything for Pestilence, and if that meant mopping the floor with the nymph, he'd gladly rip out her feathers.
Three hours had elapsed. No one ever stayed unconscious after eight.
~*~
Pain reverberated dully through Echo’s entire body. Aching down to her bones. She had no idea what she could have been doing to hurt this bad.
The last thing she remembered clearly was walking, she had been heading home from her dancing lesson when someone grabbed her, being tugged into an alley and recognizing Famine's freckled face. Everything had gone wonky when he stopped her from screaming, pressing himself close to her.
Whatever his intentions were towards her she couldn't tell, but she was getting the distinct impression that he hadn't left her alone after that. Blinking her eyes open - it took more effort than she thought it would due to how dry they were - she waited for her vision to adjust as she attempted to bring a hand up to rub her eyes.
That's when she felt it, the wrenching sensation of her arms being in an uncomfortable position. Gritting her teeth, the nymph wriggled slightly trying to figure out why it was so dark and her movement was limited. Had she known her arms were tied to a pipe and she was blindfolded she'd be panicking, but ignorance was bliss.
Her mouth opened and she whimpered. She needed a drink and an explanation.
~*~
The girl was peered at for another minute or so as Famine finished off his cigarette, dropping it soundlessly to the floor without crushing it. His footsteps toward Echo were slow, quiet. This wasn't going to be rushed. Little sound came from his direction, save for the slight crunch of denim as he crouched down next to her, one knee almost close enough to graze her chest.
A hand reached out, mockingly brushing the loose hair from her blindfolded eyes. But he stayed silent as ever, wanting that flinch, that unseeing glance into his face.
~*~
The twitch of her nose at the smell of a cigarette was the only movement Echo made once she accepted that her arms weren't cooperating. Her nerves were tense as Famine moved, the near-imperceptible change in the air making her hair stand on edge. Her head whipped in the direction the sound from his jeans seemed to come from.
As she felt someone touching her hair she instinctively shrank back and ducked her head down. She had her suspicions as to who was touching her, but she had no way of asking.
~*~
That was part of the charm: that if Echo wanted to say anything, she couldn't. Would she choose to scream eventually? No one would hear her, yet there was no way for her to know that. There was no way to know where she was at all, but perhaps over time, it'd be clear that she was in a basement.
Famine didn't draw his hand away, tracing the back of his index finger across the delicate curve of her cheekbone. Fleshbags, all of them were so soft and breakable. But he was human now, wasn't he? Mostly. He was caught in the rift between human and Horseman, unsure of how he could stand on either side. Unsure of how to be both.
But it was the Horseman within that had him leaning forward, hovering his lips by her neck. "Why so quiet, Polly?"
~*~
All the things she wanted to say were tumbling in her head: not that Famine would have answered her had she been able to ask. Fear mounting the longer that hand stayed against her skin, the urge to scream was rising. The only thing stopping her was the lack of moisture in her mouth and throat.
Echo shook her head from side to side, wanting to get as far away from the finger gliding along her cheek as she could. Squeezing her eyes shut under the blindfold, she felt tears start to form. She fought them back, not wanting whoever her tormenter was to see the effect he was having on her. She had to remain strong.
Hot breath on her neck had the nymph trembling, sickened at the sound of that familiar voice. "Quiet, Polly..." she managed to croak out, her voice shaky.
~*~
To contrast with her rising emotions, Famine remained perfectly impassive and unmoved by the display, momentarily removing his hand once she'd opened her mouth and uttered a damn word. "It speaks. Can it say anything else?" Those fingers came to her throat this time, fingertips grazing the bony ridges, beyond which were her vocal cords. Her sad, ineffectual vocal cords.
Someday, he would have to try giving her words to repeat back to him, like a proper owner and his parrot. For the moment, however, he was content to play with her before ripping her wings to pieces.
~*~
Entertaining over a dozen possibilities as to where she was and why, Echo was effectively doing her damnedest to convince herself that there was some chance, slim as it might be, that this wasn't happening. His touch on her throat spoiled that notion. "Say anything else," she dutifully mimicked, a pleading note entering her voice.
Foolishly, she held tight to the hope that he had even a drop of empathy and would let her go or explain this was all some prank. It was a longshot, especially since she knew he loathed her, but hope springs eternal.
~*~
Keeping that close proximity, the Horseman canted his head to the side. That gentle touch soon became nails scraping down the front of her throat, digging in deep. It was unfortunate that the blindfold denied him the satisfaction of watching the fear grow in her eyes, but he still kept an eye out for the telltale signs of her distress. As if it wasn't evident enough in her voice.
"I asked you first," he whispered in return, gaze tracing her features with only half interest.
~*~
Wincing at the sudden scratching, the nymph bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. This whole situation was like something out of a bad horror movie, except it was really happening to her. She kept asking herself what she might have done to deserve this, after all it had been months since she last interacted with him or his brother.
"You... first," she whispered back to him, her voice breaking although she tried to prevent it.
~*~
The crack in her voice was expected, and Famine withdrew his touch entirely, merely watching her for a while. It wouldn't be fair to savor this all for himself. He owed it to his siblings to let them have their fair share of breaking her. In time, he'd contact them, let them know they had a perfectly unwilling target tied up and waiting for them.
He pushed up to his feet, looking down on the girl apathetically all the while. "Scream if you can, Echo. But no one will hear you." With that, he slid both hands into his pockets, turning to leave. That cigarette, still left to burn on the cool floor, was ignored as Famine left Echo to her misery.