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CHARACTERS: Samael (andaclatter) & Famine (eatasam)
DATE/TIME: Early morning
LOCATION: Famine's apartment building basement
RATING: C for Creepy
WARNINGS: Samael.
SUMMARY: The fourth to go.
Heat was the first sensation Famine felt upon waking up in pitch black. It settled along his forearms and up his spine, pressing against him uncomfortably -- and then he came the pain in his wrist. Wrenched in such a way that they were behind him, one wrist was tied (tied?) at such an angle that any slight movement pained him, even with the brace.
One by one, the pieces came together. Black over his eyes, even when he blinked into it and nothing adjusted. The dizzy sensation of what must have been the affects of chloroform wearing off, leaving behind few memories of the last half hour. And cold against his legs to contrast with the heat at his back.
Samael.
Samael was sitting rather comfortably on the ground, leaning back against the wall. He'd been watching as Famine slowly regained consciousness and the smile on his face grew wider as the Horseman raised his head.
"Well, it's about time."
He got to his feet and walked over to Famine, pausing just in front of him. He touched his fingertips to Famine's cheek briefly.
That accent couldn't possibly be mistaken anywhere; this was Samael, the archangel so hellbent on getting revenge for their own act of vengeance. He knew after this there would be no ending the cycle. The angel had hurt all of his siblings, most recently Pestilence, and there was no way Famine would let that slide. They'd get back at him all over again, and so the cycle would continue likely until someone lost their life. Preferably Samael, but then the other archangels would be fast on their case.
At the touch, he didn't recoil; it didn't even surprise him. He wasn't uncomfortable just yet, and he didn't quite feel like Samael had the entire advantage. If he was thinking of leaving him here just like Echo, that would definitely be a surprise. For him to break his siblings' bones, yet only leave him there when he'd struck the first blow all those weeks ago? Ridiculous.
Without being able to see, he knew just who was speaking to him, would've understood that disturbing presence. He actually tilted his head toward the hand. "Got somewhere else to be, Wings?"
"Nowhere," said Samael, peaceably. "Nowhere at all. I'm just savouring the symmetry. You shouldn't have done what you did, Famine. Now your siblings are all nursing broken bones because you weren't capable of facing me alone."
His fingers glided back into Famine's hair and he pulled Famine's head back. Famine could surely feel Samael's warm breath against his cheek before Samael planted a kiss there. This version of Samael was friendly. He oozed good will but there was something rotten beneath it. The exact reverse of the real Samael who emanated venom but had something resembling an angelic soul. "There'd be something poetic in leaving you here to starve."
"An angel into poetry," the Horseman murmured mostly to himself, resisting a hiss of shock as his head was yanked back. With only physical touch and sound, it was impossible to tell what the angel would do next, but he could hear the footsteps, sense those close breaths. A blind man could still function in society.
Vaguely, he wondered why Samael was even up and about when he should've been in the hospital, but it wasn't dwelled on.
"Praise to the holiest in the height," agreed Samael. The heavens were an entirely foreign concept to this fallen creature; this Samael could easily have been wrought in the fires of Hell, for all the good that was in him. "Of course, there are other options. I will leave you here, Famine. Give you a day or so to think about what you've done. I'll have to gag you, of course." He caressed Famine's hair, with the tenderness of a besotted lover.
"And, tonight or tomorrow, I'll call someone and see whether they are better or worse than an Archangel."
It would be a lie to say that the younger man hadn't anticipated something worse than being left to start for only a night or two. His lips curled into a slight, empty sort of smile. "Someone worse than you, non-fallen?" To quote Death. "You give yourself too much credit."
Because he certainly wouldn't be giving Samael any of it. Broken bones heal. But it would take more than bone fractures to really break a Horseman.
"What's worse than me?" Samael wondered. "You're not even human. How can I do anything to you that will actually hurt? It's been such fun, though." He stepped away from Famine and walked towards a pipe on the wall where there was a thermostat and a lever. Easy enough to turn up the temperature. Famine would start feeling the heat soon. He might even black out. It seemed a shame that dehydration would likely get him before starvation did. One couldn't have everything.
From a distance, he asked, "you do understand that it's your fault, don't you? That your brother may never walk without a limp? That your sisters' bones are broken?"
That thought had occurred to Famine. After leaving Pestilence's bedside, it had crossed his mind. But he preferred to displace the blame and put it on someone else, because it wasn't something he wanted to take responsibility for. Not this, when it was easier to argue that it was Samael who was the one who couldn't stop putting his siblings in danger.
He shifted when the pipe started to heat up, jaw tensing as he bit down a sound that threatened to leap up his throat. His angled wrist was really beginning to bother him. The longer it was kept in that position, the more likely it would be that he wouldn't be able to use that hand properly again.
Famine tilted his head, blinking into the blindfold. Silent.
Samael was mildly impressed at Famine's fortitude. He shrugged and resisted the urge to kiss the Horseman again. He didn't really understand these urges but it didn't signify. No.
He just turned and left the basement.
DATE/TIME: Early morning
LOCATION: Famine's apartment building basement
RATING: C for Creepy
WARNINGS: Samael.
SUMMARY: The fourth to go.
Heat was the first sensation Famine felt upon waking up in pitch black. It settled along his forearms and up his spine, pressing against him uncomfortably -- and then he came the pain in his wrist. Wrenched in such a way that they were behind him, one wrist was tied (tied?) at such an angle that any slight movement pained him, even with the brace.
One by one, the pieces came together. Black over his eyes, even when he blinked into it and nothing adjusted. The dizzy sensation of what must have been the affects of chloroform wearing off, leaving behind few memories of the last half hour. And cold against his legs to contrast with the heat at his back.
Samael.
Samael was sitting rather comfortably on the ground, leaning back against the wall. He'd been watching as Famine slowly regained consciousness and the smile on his face grew wider as the Horseman raised his head.
"Well, it's about time."
He got to his feet and walked over to Famine, pausing just in front of him. He touched his fingertips to Famine's cheek briefly.
That accent couldn't possibly be mistaken anywhere; this was Samael, the archangel so hellbent on getting revenge for their own act of vengeance. He knew after this there would be no ending the cycle. The angel had hurt all of his siblings, most recently Pestilence, and there was no way Famine would let that slide. They'd get back at him all over again, and so the cycle would continue likely until someone lost their life. Preferably Samael, but then the other archangels would be fast on their case.
At the touch, he didn't recoil; it didn't even surprise him. He wasn't uncomfortable just yet, and he didn't quite feel like Samael had the entire advantage. If he was thinking of leaving him here just like Echo, that would definitely be a surprise. For him to break his siblings' bones, yet only leave him there when he'd struck the first blow all those weeks ago? Ridiculous.
Without being able to see, he knew just who was speaking to him, would've understood that disturbing presence. He actually tilted his head toward the hand. "Got somewhere else to be, Wings?"
"Nowhere," said Samael, peaceably. "Nowhere at all. I'm just savouring the symmetry. You shouldn't have done what you did, Famine. Now your siblings are all nursing broken bones because you weren't capable of facing me alone."
His fingers glided back into Famine's hair and he pulled Famine's head back. Famine could surely feel Samael's warm breath against his cheek before Samael planted a kiss there. This version of Samael was friendly. He oozed good will but there was something rotten beneath it. The exact reverse of the real Samael who emanated venom but had something resembling an angelic soul. "There'd be something poetic in leaving you here to starve."
"An angel into poetry," the Horseman murmured mostly to himself, resisting a hiss of shock as his head was yanked back. With only physical touch and sound, it was impossible to tell what the angel would do next, but he could hear the footsteps, sense those close breaths. A blind man could still function in society.
Vaguely, he wondered why Samael was even up and about when he should've been in the hospital, but it wasn't dwelled on.
"Praise to the holiest in the height," agreed Samael. The heavens were an entirely foreign concept to this fallen creature; this Samael could easily have been wrought in the fires of Hell, for all the good that was in him. "Of course, there are other options. I will leave you here, Famine. Give you a day or so to think about what you've done. I'll have to gag you, of course." He caressed Famine's hair, with the tenderness of a besotted lover.
"And, tonight or tomorrow, I'll call someone and see whether they are better or worse than an Archangel."
It would be a lie to say that the younger man hadn't anticipated something worse than being left to start for only a night or two. His lips curled into a slight, empty sort of smile. "Someone worse than you, non-fallen?" To quote Death. "You give yourself too much credit."
Because he certainly wouldn't be giving Samael any of it. Broken bones heal. But it would take more than bone fractures to really break a Horseman.
"What's worse than me?" Samael wondered. "You're not even human. How can I do anything to you that will actually hurt? It's been such fun, though." He stepped away from Famine and walked towards a pipe on the wall where there was a thermostat and a lever. Easy enough to turn up the temperature. Famine would start feeling the heat soon. He might even black out. It seemed a shame that dehydration would likely get him before starvation did. One couldn't have everything.
From a distance, he asked, "you do understand that it's your fault, don't you? That your brother may never walk without a limp? That your sisters' bones are broken?"
That thought had occurred to Famine. After leaving Pestilence's bedside, it had crossed his mind. But he preferred to displace the blame and put it on someone else, because it wasn't something he wanted to take responsibility for. Not this, when it was easier to argue that it was Samael who was the one who couldn't stop putting his siblings in danger.
He shifted when the pipe started to heat up, jaw tensing as he bit down a sound that threatened to leap up his throat. His angled wrist was really beginning to bother him. The longer it was kept in that position, the more likely it would be that he wouldn't be able to use that hand properly again.
Famine tilted his head, blinking into the blindfold. Silent.
Samael was mildly impressed at Famine's fortitude. He shrugged and resisted the urge to kiss the Horseman again. He didn't really understand these urges but it didn't signify. No.
He just turned and left the basement.