Welcome to Gaia! ::

Goddammit! Get the ******** OFF!

He lunged forwards, trying to headbutt Ice, but the chains caught him, preventing him from acting. He swore, and stumbled to the ground.

His gaze lifted, and he looked towards the cieling to see the creatures he had been left with.

Aw s**t...

Starvation, Iden knew he could handle. He'd experienced it before, and knew how to control himself when he was hungry. But this added an edge to the equation that he couldn't account for, and the lights went out far too quickly for his liking.

Immediately, Iden began ripping at the chains, trying to free his limbs enough that he could adequately fend for himself. It wasn't working, though, the metal just would not give. He had been only on half a tank upon arrival, and had expended a fair amount already....hunger had him on edge to begin with. So his strength was not what it could be, and he kept swearing.

Over the course of the three days, the swearing escalated, until it was full on shouts of anger, dismay, and pain. His arms could not reach far enough to cover his underside and flanks, making them easy targets. While he tried his best to shake himself free, it was only expending effort.

By the end of the first day, he was already silent, having nearly shredded his own vocal cords from the unending shouts.

By the time Ice would return, Iden was laying on the ground, nearly starved out. He could not do more to get the bats from his person than listlessly try and roll away, and it didn't mean a thing, not when they simply moved to another wound, and kept draining away at what he hadn't himself expended trying to be rid of them.

Iden's face lifted from the dirt at the sound, revealing that it was bloody and battered. It looked like his nose was broken and nearly caved in, likely an attempt at escape. It hadn't done much, though, as the chain remained.

Listlessly, he wheezed out a wordless breath, and tried to rally the strength to move back and away. The very fact that they were bound by their own flesh meant Ice had been at them, and that was enough to condemn the meal in Iden's eyes. He may wish to survive, but he had learned from the last time someone had starved him, and the lesson stuck with him right now: He didn't trust the hand that fed. Ice doubly so.

Another wordless wheeze. It was impossible to say what it was he was trying to say, despite his best efforts. At the time, his ability to speak was practically nonexistant...bellowing at the top of one's lungs for such a prolonged period of time had that effect.

Iden's head sank back down, and his arm dragged forward just far enough that the middle finger could be clearly seen as the only one extended. He was tired, he was starved, and he was weak for it. Maybe it was intentional, how much he'd drained himself fighting in the past three days. Hard to say.

For all he wanted to (or at least, for all his instincts told him to) rip the women apart and gorge himself, Iden remained in place. This was a few factors at work, the biggest of which was why he had hardly budged to begin with: he almost literally couldn't. He was tired, exhausted even, from expending as much of his own strength as he could in a desperate bid to break free and throttle the bats that had tormented him. It hadn't worked, but it did have a benefit Iden hadn't intended...he had frenzied enough over the past three days that at the current time, he just simply couldn't. There wasn't enough fuel in the tank, so to speak, to support such an effort, not with such a clumsy body that had been so restrained.

So Iden's face flopped into the dirt, and he waited. Whichever came first...Ice returning, or Iden's senses just blacking out as he ran completely out of juice.

Iden's head lifted, and he took a tentative...wait, no...he couldn't sniff. Not through a crushed nose. It made a sort of *HRNK* sound as his poor, suffering sinuses cringed from the effort, and he sighed. He'd heard Ice, and that was what he was deathly afraid of.

Slowly, he tilted, and tried to loan towards the dying woman. He didn't trust Ice's hand, he'd rather drink from the source directly. Unless Ice stuffed his hand down Iden's throat, Iden wouldn't touch his hand even if his unlife literally did depend on it.

Iden threw Ice a hateful glare. It was clear enough that this was not obediance on his part, but necessity. But beyond that...he partook of the offered meal.

He payed no heed to much anything else. Om nom nom.

The first one was the only the drank from. The second...well, when she was stuffed in his face, his lips would not part. He tried to worm his face away, for all Ice's claws held him fast. He'd had his fill, as unsatisfying and unfilling as it had been.