Who: Genkaku & Nagi; open to Johan, Rokuro, Alucard and Nataku. Where: The Liebert estate play room. When: About three days after this log. Summary: Just some torture. Rating: R. Other: Nope.
It was strange, the way the passage of time worked -- so easy to lose track of. Especially in a place with no view of the sky. (Like here, and like before, in that prison, deep underground. One often forgets the benefits of the sun and takes the sky for granted, but then the saying goes, 'you don't know what you have until it's gone.') The past days had been a constant slip-slide in and out of consciousness, and Nagi didn't know how much time had gone by since he'd come to the mansion -- no idea how long it had been since he'd been gunned down. Only that it was a considerable time. (Far too long.)
And it was partly a relief that the almost-routine time he'd spent locked away alone in the grimy playroom was over. Difficult to tell why he'd been shown such mercy -- perhaps only to recover from his injuries. He'd come dangerously close to death by bloodloss, would have died if it weren't for the crude treatment of the gunshot wounds. Bullets extracted, bloodflow stopped, bandages applied. Everything still hurt, burned deep. Oblivion
( ... )
"Heh...pretty damn typical response." Genkaku muttered as he crouched down before Nagi, taking a look at his accomplishment with getting his twisted fixation to himself. Slim fingers took a hold of the cigar and he exhaled. The way violets traced along the beaten and bruised, filled with holes and half-dead body, was almost perverted in a way. But damn, it was that fucking monster, the one who ripped assholes apart so damn easily, how the hell couldn’t Genkaku admire something that resembled God so damn much
( ... )
The frigid stare was maintained as Genkaku lowered himself to eye-level -- and Nagi struggled to keep quiet, restraining his anger the same way that the ropes kept him in his chair, digging into his skin with each desperate attempt to free himself. Furious words very nearly came spilling out despite his best attempts, and it was only the constant throb of agony in his body that enabled him to keep silent, even as the half-lidded gaze traveled over his body. (Stop it, stop it, what do you want, leave me alone --)
And he couldn't help but let out a strangled gasp, when the narrow finger pressed against the bandages around his legs, digging into the bullet wound that had just started to heal. Immediately, the bandages began to stain red, a dark, mottled color that blossomed slowly outward -- and Nagi choked on a lungful of air, limbs shaken by the smallest tremors.
"Shut up --" Words spat out the moment the grip on him released, breathing degenerating into a hoarse panting. (The weak traces of forgotten memories tugging at the back of
( ... )
The thumb that recently pressed down on wet new-healing flesh placed itself against Genkaku’s lips. The aroma of death and blood; it stuck to him, the metallic taste and scent was divine and intoxicating. It was the same as a god feeding a vicious animal. It was all too good right now, at this moment, with Nagi slumped on the chair and ropes digging into his skin. But he backed away, a deep laughter left his mouth at the denial and delusional that turned vocal and filled with artificial melodies. And Genkaku just anticipated what he was about to release
( ... )
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And it was partly a relief that the almost-routine time he'd spent locked away alone in the grimy playroom was over. Difficult to tell why he'd been shown such mercy -- perhaps only to recover from his injuries. He'd come dangerously close to death by bloodloss, would have died if it weren't for the crude treatment of the gunshot wounds. Bullets extracted, bloodflow stopped, bandages applied. Everything still hurt, burned deep. Oblivion ( ... )
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And he couldn't help but let out a strangled gasp, when the narrow finger pressed against the bandages around his legs, digging into the bullet wound that had just started to heal. Immediately, the bandages began to stain red, a dark, mottled color that blossomed slowly outward -- and Nagi choked on a lungful of air, limbs shaken by the smallest tremors.
"Shut up --" Words spat out the moment the grip on him released, breathing degenerating into a hoarse panting. (The weak traces of forgotten memories tugging at the back of ( ... )
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