[THREAD] for SOMETHING or SOMEONE to operate
Who: Nataku [ soulparadox ] & Nagi [ striginae ]
Where: Liebert mansion, one of the "play rooms"
When: The day before [ this ]
Summary: A visit. Nothing malicious, but nothing benevolent either.
Rating: Most likely PG-13
In most cases, humans are quick to adapt -- given a certain amount of repetition, or the relentless presence of something, people will very quickly learn to accept it. They grow immune to it. Take it as a part of themselves. And yet, and yet -- pain is not one of those things that one can simply absorb, no matter how much time is given for the immunization process to take place. Pain has the tendency to make its presence known.
And so Nagi, despite the hours that have passed since he was first shot, can't ignore the biting agony that laps at his nerves, biting at his thoughts as he drifts in and out of consciousness. Each time the streaks of darkness retreat from his line of vision, he tries to understand the situation that he's in, and he manages to piece together the facts, one by one -- the blood-stained bandages strewn over his limbs, the handcuffs around his wrists, the chain connecting the cuffs to the wall, the prayer beads wound tight around his body.
Time passes at a rate that he can't follow, and he wakes up like he has so many times before, lying on the floor, each breath coming out ragged-rough and shallow. His first thought (like each time before) -- 'I need to escape.' And so he looks up at the cast-iron door at the far side of the room, so far away. (Like each time before.)
Where: Liebert mansion, one of the "play rooms"
When: The day before [ this ]
Summary: A visit. Nothing malicious, but nothing benevolent either.
Rating: Most likely PG-13
In most cases, humans are quick to adapt -- given a certain amount of repetition, or the relentless presence of something, people will very quickly learn to accept it. They grow immune to it. Take it as a part of themselves. And yet, and yet -- pain is not one of those things that one can simply absorb, no matter how much time is given for the immunization process to take place. Pain has the tendency to make its presence known.
And so Nagi, despite the hours that have passed since he was first shot, can't ignore the biting agony that laps at his nerves, biting at his thoughts as he drifts in and out of consciousness. Each time the streaks of darkness retreat from his line of vision, he tries to understand the situation that he's in, and he manages to piece together the facts, one by one -- the blood-stained bandages strewn over his limbs, the handcuffs around his wrists, the chain connecting the cuffs to the wall, the prayer beads wound tight around his body.
Time passes at a rate that he can't follow, and he wakes up like he has so many times before, lying on the floor, each breath coming out ragged-rough and shallow. His first thought (like each time before) -- 'I need to escape.' And so he looks up at the cast-iron door at the far side of the room, so far away. (Like each time before.)