[Incomplete]

[sadisticstorm]

Who: Larxene, Euphemia
When: Now.
Where: Somewhere around the lower level.
Rating: R.
Warnings: Violence.
Summary: Larxene steps up to take care of the woman talking to Rufus~ JEALOUS MUCH.

Comments

[sadisticstorm]

"You really aren't cut out for things like this, are you, princess?" Larxene sighed, sounding vaguely disappointed. "I suppose you've learned your lesson. Almost."

Her gaze shifted, moving from that now-empty socket to the sapphire-colored eye in the palm of her hand. With a quirk of her lips, she lifted it, held it up where Euphemia could see with the remaining eye, before half-turning and throwing it. It disappeared from sight before it ever hit the ground some many feet away, and Larxene twisted back to face her with an absent shrug.

"Fucking useless to you, if you ask me. Did you want to go fetch it? I'll even be nice and let you down."

And true to that word, she first reached down, grasping hold of the daggers embedded in those shapely thighs, making certain to twist before yanking them free. Both knives disappeared in ghostly swirls of black, and Larxene then reached up for the two pinning Euphemia's hands. Those, she was just as vicious in removing. Rather than pull them straight out, she deemed it appropriate to grab the girl's wrists instead, and yank them straight down. Blades tore through small bones and soft skin. Nothing life-threatening, that, but Larxene could imagine it hurt like hell.

Good.

Both knives still buried into the wall, likewise disappeared in whisps of black after a moment.

At that point, Larxene merely stepped back a good foot or so, watching to see if Euphemia would be capable of standing, or if she'd crumple to the ground in pain.

[xeuphonious]

Euphie's hands were fully mutilated now, nothing more than flaps of flesh that burned like hellfire and caused Euphemia to curl up on the ground, sitting in the pool of her own blood. This felt oddly familiar, the sleek, crimson wetness on her white skin, the pain etching its way from her legs, from her hands, from her eye socket. She stared at the ground with her one remaining eye, swallowing hard. She couldn't remove the gag if she wanted to; her jaw hurt, and she could feel the spit dripping out of her face, mixing with the blood still coming out of her eye.

Rich, red spurts. So pretty, like liquid rubies, like...

The blood loss was making her dizzy. Did she even want to fight anymore? But... That bitch, how fucking dare she treat Euphemia like that, and the emotion bubbled like a frothing volcano inside of her.

"Fuck you," Euphemia said with the gag in her mouth, so it came out more like, "mughf ynngh," which made her feel even more humiliated, more mad. Mad, was she? Anger or insanity or maybe a bit of both?

She tried to move onto her legs; they trembled, gave out beneath her, and Euphemia landed back onto the pavement with a sickening crunch.

[sadisticstorm]

"What was that? Didn't quite hear you." Larxene scowled.

Still.

Don't kill her, Larxene.

She was fairly certain that was Marluxia's voice, in the bad of her mind and whispering that warning to her. Damn it all.

Euphemia crumpled to the ground, and Larxene merely watched. Pretty little doll, all broken to pieces, and the whole situation was so easily avoidable, wasn't it? It the bitch had simply shut her mouth in the first place...

Don't, came Marluxia's voice again, and she rolled her eyes irritably, put her hands on her hips with a sigh and lifted her gaze skyward for but a moment. Fine. Fine. Getting booted out of the upper level really wasn't worth it, was it?

Larxene looked back down to the fallen girl, unimpressed by any means. One hand slid smoothly into her coat pocket, plucking a small potion bottle from the depths of it, uncorking the top, and crouching down before her. Another mechanical movement had Larxene yanking the gag from her mouth, dropping the glove to the ground and grabbing a fistful of Euphemia's hair to hold her still.

"Now. Simple 'yes' or 'no'. Will you leave Rufus ShinRa alone?"

[xeuphonious]

If there was one thing Larxene had not learned during this small, surreal interlude, it was that Euphemia's reply would be surprisingly predictable.

Perhaps, part of the real her, buried underneath however the Gods had intervened, was telling Euphemia it was time to stop: this wasn't fun anymore, whatever purpose this had served was over now, could she please return to being her? She'd like to apologize to Larxene now. But the new personality of Euphemia glinted like hot knives, quickly shoved that soft, pressing voice away: she was stronger like this, more like Cornelia. She got her way.

Her one eye followed the bottle; whatever it was, Euphemia wanted none of it. She grimaced, her lips curling in revulsion as she worked her jaw to close again; they ached from the gag, felt sore and stiff even it'd only been minutes, nothing like hours, nothing like that. She was fair too delicate for this; if only that realization connected with her brain, and thus, her mouth.

"I'll do whatever the fuck I want. An ugly little shit-faced bitch won't stop me~."

Is it all right to have Rufus step into the log in a few posts~?

[sadisticstorm]

A snarl later, and the back of Larxene's hand was meeting with Euphemia's jaw, nearly hard enough to crack bone, so very, very barely restrained. She was trying so hard to keep control, reign in her temper. Truth be told, Larxene could have done this for hours, poking and prodding and removing fingers and ears and tongue and the like.

But, fuck, fuck that nagging voice in the back of her head was oh so irritating. Warningwarningwarning.

Larxene. Don't do that; you'll regret it, Marluxia continued to say.

Not listening to you anymore; you left me, was all she could think of in reply. And it was true, wasn't it? What other reason did she have to be good, if he wasn't there to keep hold of her metaphorical leash? Why had she been working so damned hard at behaving lately, anyway?

The back of her hand struck sharply to the girl's face again, another firm warning. "Try again," she snarled out. "You'll stay the fuck away from him, right?"

Him. Him, him -- Rufus.

...Oh. Her reasoning, it was him, wasn't it? The reason she didn't want to do this. The Gods would take her away from him, and she didn't want that. Not at all.

Absolutely. :) Sorry, fell asleep last night. >_>

[xeuphonious]

What was another few broken bones or eight? Euphemia felt like she was made out of hot air, maybe just a huge, painful ghost hovering above the savage nymph. You should stop now, she told herself, you should stop baiting her. But this Euphemia fed off the anger, nearly revelled in it, still smiled sickly-sweet over at Larxene.

Like she could really hurt a princess, like she--

"Fuck," Euphemia cursed after the second hit, a long string of blood moving from her mouth, dangling. Blood, in her mouth? Fuck, Larxene hadn't even done much to her mouth. But the metallic taste was positive, and she could feel it congealing around her gums, around her tongue. It was disgusting.

Euphemia spat another mouthful of blood out, eye still focused on Larxene. "Fuck you," she said in reply. "I'll do whatever I want, regardless of your shitfaced desires..."

(( Not that I want Larxene to get punished but, uh, don't you think there's a very, very great possibility Euphemia won't survive this? o__o I'm just checking to see what you think. ))

NP. <3 and it's up to you if Euphemia dies or not.

[sadisticstorm]

"Will you?" The blonde grinned, then, sharkish with wide. Oh, the things people said when they had the easiest option in the world to save themselves.

Lifting up the potion bottle, Larxene dangled it teasingly before the girl's face, careful not to allow the liquid to spill from the uncorked top. "Do you know what this is? It's a potion. It'd heal all those horrid little injuries right up. I was going to give it to you if you decided to be a good girl, but since you're still being a whore... well~"

She placed the bottle down on the ground, just in front of Euphemia, and smoothly rose to her feet. Straightening, she stepped back, wiping her ungloved and bloodied hand on the front of her jacket. Leather did little to soak it up, and instead it smeared it over her palm and fingers. Tsk; she was going to need a shower.

"Now... I think it'd be more amusing to watch you try and pick that up and drink it yourself."

It would have been possible. Maybe. Euphemia's hands weren't in the best of shape, but there were other options - like leaning down to catch the neck of the tiny bottle in her mouth and lift it that way to drink it. It simply depended on how stubborn the brat wanted to be, or if she even wanted to believe the contents of the bottle were what Larxene claimed it to be; it could've been poison, for all she knew. (Not that is was, but still.) And Larxene could be patient; too much longer, bleeding the way she was and laying in the snow, her body was sure to go into shock before the hour was up.

The Nobody took another step back, well out of reach, and her lips drew right back up into that grin as her arms folded across her chest.

"How much longer is that pride of yours going to hold out, princess? How much more are you going to suffer for it?"

Oh gosh, then I'm going to opt for yes, if you'll let me. :| *guilt*

[xeuphonious]

Potions, hah. Like Euphemia would believe that lie: back home, the only thing that could heal injuries like this would've been time and incredible medical attention. The idea that some liquid in a little bottle could mend all her wounds was proposterous, ridiculous, insane; did Euphemia look like a gullible little bitch? Did she give off that image? Still, she flexed her hands experimentally, wincing. No, she couldn't withstand that pain. She bit hard on her lip, drawing blood that blossomed on her white teeth like dark red flowers.

"I wouldn't drink it even if you poured that fucking shit down my throat," Euphemia seethed, closing her eyes: it was becoming tiring to keep them open, though one eyelid fluttered over the empty space it covered strangely. It was strange to not feel anything there except for the drip of blood, that pain that didn't seem to settle for being described with words. "I'd rather smash the bottle and carve your neck out with the pieces."

As much as Euphemia wished to, the likelihood of that happening was very, very close to zero. With hands reduced to mere flaps of flesh, important tendons torn that were needed to manipulate her fingers, leg muscles that ached from stab wounds. The blood loss was bad, she even could distinguish that information the way her mind was reeling.

"I'd rather die than beg mercy from a bitch like you."

Euphemia hardly had the energy to open her eyes, so she didn't; instead she shifted her weight to be more comfortable, gritting her teeth with effort and the overwhelming pressure that began to condense on her chest, the static blots of light that seemed to form in her mind's vision. It was like dying all over, she suddenly realized, except there was no warm bed, no gun, no Suzaku, and it hurt infinite times more.

Her hands itched for the potion, however, and one of her limbs (the left, actually) began to inch slowly toward the bottle. Slowly, but surely, because she was sure if she moved too fast, her arm would spring out of its socket. Or she hoped it would, because then maybe it'd fucking stop hurting.

[sadisticstorm]

Larxene resisted her initial urge to either knock the potion away from the girl, or just... kick her in the teeth. Both sounded like good options. But those words in the back of her mind continued to nag and nag, and she inclined her chin, shaking her head to get the blonde hair from her eyes.

Fine. Euphemia could stay there and struggle all on her lonesome, because Larxene knew if she stayed any longer, she'd end up doing something she regretted.

So, the Nobody turned away, casting a careless glance over one shoulder.

"Hardly entertainment value in watch you be pathetic, princess," she called cheerfully. "Have fun. Do hurry, would you? It would be so terribly unpleasant for anyone to find your hideous, rotting corpse out here in the cold~"

And with that, she was walking away, boots leaving prints in the snow as she went.