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Stage Six

Interesting.

"Appearances are deceiving. I have my own methods for keeping the whispers at bay." Or rather, Medea had gifted her with that ability, the blue beaded bracelet around her wrist suppressing the more undesirable effects of insanity.

The horsemen who were tainted by it....that was the fault of the hunters, the ones that had blown up the islands, who had killed thousands upon thousands of horsemen. The insanity phoenix had nearly consumed her. She had been too close to the destruction.

From behind her, she drew free a sword, one that's hilt was set in many different colored jewels, distortion shards, and the weapon itself was grey, the same as her hand, her face, her hair, with wisps of fog curling around the blade.

"I can also wield it, like this. Such a pretty sword, don't you think? It matches me." A wild grin, and she was suddenly spinning that blade around until it was pointed downward, a split second before she slammed it down towards Gale's leg.

He'd done nothing to earn him such treatment, but she thought it best at that moment to remind him that she was not here just to make idle chit chat.

Stage Six

It was rather a pity that he didn't scream, though she recognized the sounds of one choking back their pain and that was rather satisfying in it's own way. As he spoke, she leaned against the hilt of the blade, pushing down on it, adding more pressure, smiling before suddenly straightening, one hand remaining in place to twist.

"Now wouldn't you like to know?" She continued to smile, her muscles clenching as she yanked the blade free once more.

Before proceeding to slam it down towards his other leg.

"Are you thirsty yet?" She asked, suddenly sounding rather bored, as if no longer interested in whatever game she had been playing moments before, and as nonchalantly as one could be while clenching fingers tight around the hilt of her insanity sword and slowly twisting this time while applying pressure downward once more. "Or hungry? I'm famished."

Another baring of teeth in a feral grin.

Stage Six

Of course he'd like to know. She was sure that there was plenty that he wished to know. And what would be the harm in telling him, if her plan was only to kill him anyways? His knowledge would die with him.

She smiled.

"It comes from insanity, yes, but not my own...though I'm not entirely sure that there is much difference. The fog is full of many, and I am sure they still wish for me to join them. But no, I crafted this myself. My partner wields one much the same, and yet he is untainted." She left it at that, a knowing smirk on her lips, the twisting coming to a slow stop as she lifted her hand and gave the hunter a light pat on the cheek.

"You ask a lot of questions. Is that your job, hunter? Is that the role you are given within your ranks? To ask questions?" She straightened up, turning to leave, the sword left behind.

"You are no longer in the desert." That much information she was willing to give.

And then, a muttered. "Not high enough." before she departed, the iron door swinging open with a rusty creak before clanging shut, the lock clicking heavily back into place.

"Rest hunter. I will be back soon."

Soon would come perhaps an hour later, or maybe it had only been minutes, when she wordlessly returned, a cup appearing to be made from clay in hand. Her other hand reached for the sword and wrenched it free before he sheathed it at her back. The cup was held towards his lips, it's contents murky, as if the water she had filled it with had come from some bacteria ridden puddle (which it had).

"Drink." She commanded him.

Stage Six

The cup was lowered upon it's contents being emptied down the hunters throat, and was set aside somewhere on the floor near the wall before she was turning back to him.

"Now?" She let out a light laugh through her nose, a dark chuckle from the back of her throat.

"Now the fun really begins, hunter. You see, what I like about your lot, -and trust me, there isn't much to like- Is that you're just so very resilient. Unlike regular humans, you can withstand so much more. And this just happens to be the very first time I've captured one of you for myself! It's sort of exciting, I think. So much more can be done then with the usual rush of stabbing and slashing that comes with encounters in the Haunted House or the Human World. I can really take my time, if I want." And she wanted it. Oh, did she ever want it.

As she spoke, she circled around him, examining him, reaching for chains here and there to make sure they hadn't somehow become loose, finger tips moving to trail lightly over his hair before her hand cupped his cheek, and her thumb rested to trace along his cheekbone, before shifting upward and settling right over top of his eye.

And then she slowly began to press down.

Stage Six

For several long moments it seemed like she was to ignore his sudden pleas. Her thumb pressed against his eyelid, and what was beneath, harder, her lip pulling back from her teeth in a silent snarl. The Fear that suddenly began to permeate the air was wonderful, sweet, satisfying, and she didn't want it to end. Hunters were often so difficult to extract from, but this one was obviously exhausted, both mentally and physically. This one felt alone, hopeless, helpless, scared. She could drink in that essence of Fear, immerse herself in it, practically taste it on the air....

And yet, if she didn't stop, she risked giving herself in to the raging ball of violence that was clenched up inside of her, quivering, itching to be let loose. She would beat him bloody, then. Beat him, cut him, tear at him until he was nothing but a mess of flesh smeared across the walls and her floor.

Her hand was shaking when she let go, and it balled up into a fist, and swung, aiming for the same eye she had been pressing against just a split second before.

"I'll stop when I wish to, you absolute filth, and not a moment sooner." She spat, before winding her fist back to let it fly a second time, the feel of bone breaking beneath her knuckles the goal in mind.

Stage Six

As quickly as the Fear came, it was able to leave again, to shift, to become something else entirely. It wasn't lost upon her that the moment she let go of his face, he became relieved. It wasn't lost upon her that his Fear only spiked when she had begun to press down on his eye.

But after she let go, and after she punched him, it was anger that he shifted to, however disoriented, though that Fear was still there, just an underlay, quieter, smaller, but just as deliciously sweet.

His foot managed to connect to her shin, pain exploding up to her knee, and her eyes flickered, a small flinch, though the rest of her face seemed much the same, with teeth bared and a hardened, hatred filled gaze.

If his words had any effect on her, however, it didn't show.

"You've asked enough questions, I think, hunter. Now it's my turn. Answer, please me, and I will let you leave, with no further harm to your precious eye." It was a guess based on his reactions, that his eyes were quite important to him, but she doubted she was wrong.

It was never her intention to keep him for long, or to kill him. How would word spread, how would chaos be sown, if she were to murder or lock away all of those who could instead be used to further her own intentions?

Stage Six

His answer wasn't good enough, not nearly, but she was feeling patient, just at that moment. She would see how much he held back, what information he held out on, and mete out punishment as necessary.

"You seem to know so very much about us. I simply wish to learn about you. Not you specifically, but your kind. What are your roles. What is the significance of the symbols and colors on your jackets? Everything you can tell me, you should, and perhaps even things you can not tell me as well." Again, a dangerous glint in her eye.

"If I find the information you give me to be satisfactory, I will let you live, and I will let you go."

Stage Seven

The questions had gone on endlessly, with no chance for a break, not a single moment of respite. Some of the questions were trivial, asked simply for the sake of asking, and the answers were discarded, barely even heard. Some were personal, and again one would have to wonder why she was even asking, but then again, if he didn't answer her, she would hurt him, in one way or another. She was a master when it came to torture, when it came to dealing out pain, starting out in small increments but progressively becoming more if met with refusal.

And then there was his eye. The same eye she had accosted before. Occasionally, if she found he was not answering her in a satisfactory fashion, she would find another way to hurt it, without completely mutilating it or totally ruining his sight, so that there was always the threat of her destroying it completely......

Hours later, without a word, she left the room, though not before yanking on one of his chains, breaking it, leaving him free to disentangle himself from the others if he could.

The padlock was also left open on the door.

Apparently, he was free to leave. The question that remained was whether or not it was only a trap of false hope.