Godric may be human at the moment, but he's never been a pushover. It had taken four Extras to subdue him, and one of them hadn't returned with the others, either because Godric had managed to kill him or injure him enough to compromise his mobility. The other three sport their own, more minor injuries.
It had come at a price, though. Godric's head is still throbbing from the blow that had finally taken him down, and it's a strange sensation, this pain that doesn't naturally fade away in seconds or minutes. He's uncomfortable on his knees, his limbs bound with wire that, frustratingly, would not usually hold him. But he would be naive to think that this is the worst discomfort he or his fellow captives are going to suffer, if the Master's speech is anything to judge by.
He remains still and calm, but his expression is dark as he looks at the Master and his vampire companion.
She wanted him to know. She wanted him to know why he was here.
He was a vampire. He knew the nature of the bond between sire and child. He knew what he'd taken away from her!
Godric hadn't been sorry before, but he would be soon.
Dressed in white, and cradling Miss Edith as one would cradle a child, Drusilla looked more unnatural ever. She saw the darkness in him. The anger. She wished that the wires were silver and that silver would still burn him.
A part of Godric can't even blame her. Yes, he knows the bond between sire and child, and he'd helped tear Angelus from Drusilla. She can't content herself with Angel, and though he doesn't fully understand why, he doesn't have to. Drusilla's motivations are clear, and they're motivations that few vampires could disapprove of.
That doesn't mean he forgives her. His wrath is cold and deep, and if he's left alive after this frustrating weakness is behind him, Drusilla will pay the price. Only the Master will have it worse, for the Master has no noble motivations. For him, this is a game, just like River Tam's mind.
Oh, don't wound him, Godric! His motives are noble! At least against Godric and Cordelia. Drusilla is a special little charm, and anyone who does wrong against her will face trouble. ...Well okay, it isn't really noble, but that doesn't matter. The Master is in charge here.
"What should I do to you, hm?" he murmurs. Yes, he's asking Godric, but the question is for Drusilla as well.
It seemed noble to Drusilla. In fact, it was one of the sweetest things - the sweetest gifts - that she'd ever been given. When she turned to the Master, her expression was gleeful and adoring.
"Anything at all?" she asked, with the air of a child in a sweetshop. "Can we make him scream?"
(It would be worth it. It would be worth it if she could make him scream. He'd be angry afterwards, if he lived, and he'd probably try and rip out what was left of Drusilla's heart, but it would be worth it.)
Godric remains silent, his eyes doing all the speaking with a hateful, controlled rage. Torture is not something new to Godric, though it's been a long time. It won't be easy to make him scream. If they take that as a challenge, all the better that they concentrate more on him than on the other people in the room, any or all of whom may be more fragile.
He had looked at the other captives when he was first brought in, recognizing some of them, but not most. He won't look at them again, lest the ones he knows suffer for it.
"Yes," he says safely, "I think we can. He's far too quiet after all, don't you think?" He smiles darkly at Godric. "You're not going to say anything? Anything at all?" He steps over to his table, caressing hands over the surfaces of the utensils. "What should we try first, my dear? Can't say I know vampires as well as others..."
But then, he doesn't know Godric is human, currently.
"Like a little mouse," Drusilla agreed, with a pleasant shiver of anticipation. But that wasn't right, was it? He wasn't a mouse. He was ancient and dangerous. Godric could have snapped Daddy - who Drusilla had utmost faith in - like a broken twig. She'd known, she'd known all long, that something must have gone wrong to allow the Extras to capture him. She'd been content to ignore that.
A thoughtful pause. Then, suddenly, Drusilla stepped forward and lashed out at Godric. As soon as her nails - dark red and sharp enough to rip a throat - reached his cheek, the chip activated.
She stepped back, grabbing her head with a low growl of pain.
"You don't need to," she said, eyes flashing as she straightened up. "He's human. He's human."
And she laughed. She laughed and laughed because the hamsters must have been helping them.
At the Master's words, Godric almost breaks his silence to laugh; a short, mocking bark that wants to bubble up in his throat. If he were still a vampire, these wires wouldn't bind him, and the Master would currently be dead. The ignorance is interesting, and he files it away for later. If there is a later.
But of course, Drusilla knows better. It's startling, but Godric makes no sound, only the slightest intake of breath as her nails rip open his cheek. The pain is the type that feels like nothing at first, only a shock, and then it slowly begins to burn until his cheek is on fire. A small thing. He looks at the ground in front of him, ignoring Drusilla's laughter. It doesn't escape his notice that she'd sounded like she was in pain immediately after she'd hurt him. That too, he files away for later.
[ooc: I don't know if the chip would stop her from going through with the motion, or if she could actually hurt him, so I'm going with the idea that it was too quick for her to stop. If this is wrong, I can edit.]
The Master's hands pause midair and he rounds back to look at Godric with a peculiar expression. "Human?" he repeats, then he shares her laughter, stalking back over to Godric. "You're human? Isn't that brilliant. How long since you've been a vampire, I wonder..." He tsks. "But you're not going to tell me, are you?"
There are other methods to extract information though, when someone won't talk.
Almost absently, and once the flash of pain had subsided, Drusilla licked the blood from her fingers. It was warm and red. He could die and she could hurt him. The chip had taken the shine off her fun, yes, but she'd be savouring the taste on her tongue for the rest of the night.
With that in mind, she leaned forward - it wasn't hurting him, it was allowed, it was allowed - to lap at the cut. Warm and red and fresh.
"They're helping us," she commented to the Master, thinking of the hamsters. "They want us to play."
Godric jerks his face away from Drusilla with a sneer, flashing a look at her that would be terrifying if he were still a vampire. Even as a human, it's startling in its intensity. He knows he can't stop her if she's insistent, but his blood is not for her. She doesn't deserve it.
Still, he's silent. He doesn't answer the Master. Knowing how long he's been glitched will more than likely not be much use to the Master, but Godric can't be sure. And he isn't about to freely volunteer information, even information that may be useless.
The look didn't appear to alarm Drusilla. She'd only ever been afraid - truly, sickeningly afraid - of one person and he wasn't here. Godric was nothing, nothing, compared to her Daddy.
She didn't take much blood, since she didn't want to get carried away and set the chip off once more, but she took enough to wet her lips. Redder than ever now.
"You're so old," she noted, "So old but I can't taste it in you. They've taken your years away."
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It had come at a price, though. Godric's head is still throbbing from the blow that had finally taken him down, and it's a strange sensation, this pain that doesn't naturally fade away in seconds or minutes. He's uncomfortable on his knees, his limbs bound with wire that, frustratingly, would not usually hold him. But he would be naive to think that this is the worst discomfort he or his fellow captives are going to suffer, if the Master's speech is anything to judge by.
He remains still and calm, but his expression is dark as he looks at the Master and his vampire companion.
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He was a vampire. He knew the nature of the bond between sire and child. He knew what he'd taken away from her!
Godric hadn't been sorry before, but he would be soon.
Dressed in white, and cradling Miss Edith as one would cradle a child, Drusilla looked more unnatural ever. She saw the darkness in him. The anger. She wished that the wires were silver and that silver would still burn him.
Most importantly, she smiled.
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That doesn't mean he forgives her. His wrath is cold and deep, and if he's left alive after this frustrating weakness is behind him, Drusilla will pay the price. Only the Master will have it worse, for the Master has no noble motivations. For him, this is a game, just like River Tam's mind.
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"What should I do to you, hm?" he murmurs. Yes, he's asking Godric, but the question is for Drusilla as well.
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"Anything at all?" she asked, with the air of a child in a sweetshop. "Can we make him scream?"
(It would be worth it. It would be worth it if she could make him scream. He'd be angry afterwards, if he lived, and he'd probably try and rip out what was left of Drusilla's heart, but it would be worth it.)
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He had looked at the other captives when he was first brought in, recognizing some of them, but not most. He won't look at them again, lest the ones he knows suffer for it.
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But then, he doesn't know Godric is human, currently.
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A thoughtful pause. Then, suddenly, Drusilla stepped forward and lashed out at Godric. As soon as her nails - dark red and sharp enough to rip a throat - reached his cheek, the chip activated.
She stepped back, grabbing her head with a low growl of pain.
"You don't need to," she said, eyes flashing as she straightened up. "He's human. He's human."
And she laughed. She laughed and laughed because the hamsters must have been helping them.
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But of course, Drusilla knows better. It's startling, but Godric makes no sound, only the slightest intake of breath as her nails rip open his cheek. The pain is the type that feels like nothing at first, only a shock, and then it slowly begins to burn until his cheek is on fire. A small thing. He looks at the ground in front of him, ignoring Drusilla's laughter. It doesn't escape his notice that she'd sounded like she was in pain immediately after she'd hurt him. That too, he files away for later.
[ooc: I don't know if the chip would stop her from going through with the motion, or if she could actually hurt him, so I'm going with the idea that it was too quick for her to stop. If this is wrong, I can edit.]
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There are other methods to extract information though, when someone won't talk.
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With that in mind, she leaned forward - it wasn't hurting him, it was allowed, it was allowed - to lap at the cut. Warm and red and fresh.
"They're helping us," she commented to the Master, thinking of the hamsters. "They want us to play."
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Still, he's silent. He doesn't answer the Master. Knowing how long he's been glitched will more than likely not be much use to the Master, but Godric can't be sure. And he isn't about to freely volunteer information, even information that may be useless.
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She didn't take much blood, since she didn't want to get carried away and set the chip off once more, but she took enough to wet her lips. Redder than ever now.
"You're so old," she noted, "So old but I can't taste it in you. They've taken your years away."
From his body, not from his mind. Why?
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