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 Posted: Wed Apr 22, 2009 10:23 pm
Walking down the hall at a brisk pace, Haellara carefully rolled up the ownership papers and stowed them away in the folds of her robe. She would keep them on her person until the drow that they symbolized had fully accepted his role as her newest plaything, and then, who knows? She could always stick it up in the playroom, in full view of the rack; she knew another certain drow male who would be devestated by the thought of her having Kyil. Which was precisely why she was heading back to the playroom; to revive Mikaril, if he was still out, and tell him the wonderful news before engaging him in another round.
She reached the playroom and carefully opened the door, peering toward the rack for any sign of movement. Seeing none, she walked over to the right side and looked down at her brother's limp form. A frown creased her forehead as she realized that she had forgotten to administer the healing potion to Mikaril before she had gone out. The fire slug's residue still caked his stomach, the charred skin beginning to crack and leave jagged fissures in his skin that mixed blood with the slime the slug had likewise left behind. His breathing was ragged, and every minute or so his entire body spasmed as he slept, straining the straps on his wrist and undoubtedly agitating the skin on his back.
Almost sorry to wake him from whatever nightmare he was experiencing thanks to the drugged sleep, Haellara walked to the corner of her playroom and returned with a reviver mushroom. Placing it carefully on her brother's tongue with the precision of a surgeon, she watched it take root and creep down his throat, making the neck bulge slightly. She watched the cap intently, and just before it began to spread its cap, she muttered a quick spell and touched it with her finger, turning it and all of its roots to dust. The shock caused Mikaril's body to jerk, and his eyes snapped open, looking about with terror. Grimly, she wondered if whatever nightmare he had left behind was actually preferrable to this, his grim reality.
Once she was certain his gaze had come to rest on her, she pulled the paper out and held it in front of him. "I thought it might interest you to know that I now own your dear little friend Kyil. This paper deems me his owner; he is now my slave." She saw confusion appear on Miakril's face, and his dry lips parted and he mumbled something. Leaning down closer, she caught the words. "Kyil......he.....he's dead....you.....killed him." She straightened up again; she had all but forgotten that rotten little goblin, especially when she suddenly noticed that in her short absence, someone had come in, removed the body, and cleaned up the mess.
Beaming down at him, she leaned close and whispered in his white ear. "Are you sure you saw what you saw? I am capable of bringing the dead back to life, and making you see only what I want you to see. That Kyil could very well have been a false Kyil, but you shall never know. I could bring him here in effigy once a day and kill him before you; dare you pretend to not care when one of them could very well be the REAL Kyil? Would that be the last thing you want your little pet to see; his beloved master, cold and indifferent to his suffering, not caring whether or not I cut his heart from his chest or break every bone in his body one at a time?" Okay, so she was stretching it with raising the dead, but the fear and anguish she saw in Mikaril's red eyes told her that the words had struck regardless.
Leaving him to chew that thought over, Haellara walked over to her shelf and returned with a healing potion. "Open up," she said, and he complied, probably knowing that she would just force him to drink if he didn't take it willingly. She watched the last of it vanish, and observed the fissures closing, the charred skin healing and soon leaving nothing but the faintiest of discolorations. Her plaything was whole again, and ready for another round.
Mikaril woke up choking, the last remnants of his dream fading into existance so swiftly that he couldn't even remember what he had been dreaming about. It had been a restless one, full of darkness his vision couldn't penetrate and noises that he could not identify but made the hairs on his ears stand on end. His eyes suddenly widened as he realized how much time must have passed before he had been able to rejuvinate his illusion spell on his ears. Haellara surely must have seen them! He saw her looming before him, and he waited to see what would happen enxt. Would she try to finish the spell, and then use him as a sacrifice?
No; what she had done instead was much, much worse. It caused Mikaril's head to throb mercilessly and his heart to begin beating a frantic tempo in his chest. Kyil, sold to Haellara! Made her own servant, made to call her Mistress and put up with the heaps of abuse she was likely to inflict upon him! At that moment, he would have given anything, even let himself be turned into a hateful unicorn, if just to hear Kyil call him master one more time, if just to confirm that he still considered himself Mikaril's. But Kyil was not here; he had been mercilessly killed by Haellara....hadn't he? He fought to clear the pain-tinged red fuzz from his brain as he confirmed what he had seen to her. But then her response left his mind reeling. It HAD to have been a fake Kyil; why go through the trouble (and cost) of buying a corpse? But now that he was truly hers, the game was afoot; any Kyil she brought in now could be the real one, and would he be able to stand seeing her hurt him in any form, in the chance that it might be his real friend?
Torn by the thoughts that only served to make his head pound harder, he took the potion with no arguement and felt the wounds on his stomach and face heal. But he knew what was coming; a healing always meant a fresh game. Sure enough, he felt his body jerk as Haellara operated a series of ropes and pulleys off to the side, and the rack began to rise on one end and lower on the other, until he was vertical, his feet an inch or two from the ground. He saw Haellara move into view and grab him around teh waist, pulling him down until he felt both arms dislocate, and both feet touch the ground firmly. He fancied he could feel torn flesh dangling off of his back from the movement of the hooks; sure enough, as he looked to the side, the hateful little tube was in place, and the bottle was already merrily gathering drips.
Haellara walked out of sight then, but he could hear her rummaging in a cupboard someplace near the door. When she returned, she had about a half dozen of what looked like poles in her arms. They appeared to be made from a light wood, with lines standing out in even paces all along the pole. The ends facing the floor looked as though the edges had been sharpened to a razor-like precision; not sharpened to a point, but left wide, with the edge itself keen as a blade, like a circle-shaped sword. He saw her select one and set the others down carefully, and before he could guess what her intentions were, she raised it and thrust it deep into his upper leg with all her might, leaving it to stick out of his leg at an upward angle. He screamed as pain lanced up his leg and all the way to his throat, and he saw blood beginning to gush out of the other end of the pole like a tapped spring. Not missing a beat, Haellara picked up another and thrust it into his other leg, this time grating on one of his leg bones and actually exiting the other side only to re-enter through the ankle of his other foot. His screams intensified, and he thrashed his body around as though trying desparately to escape the pain and the alarmingly rapid fountains of blood erupting from his own legs.
It took her using all six of the poles before Haellara would stop, and even then she had to rehydrate him twice for fear of him turning into a husk right then and there. He was now back in hos regular position, laying down and looking up at the ceiling. The healing potion she had given him was taking its time, the gaping holes in his legs closing up slowly, the splintered bones carefully knitting themselves back together. The slightest movement of his legs still brought agony, and his newly-relocated arms throbbed with their own rhythm. He turned his head slightly to look at Haellara, who was measuring out three jars of pain; the poles had dealt him extrordinary pain, which had yielded a better than average amount of the red-orange concoction. He only hoped that the fuss she had gone through to ensure that he did not die would prompt her to use the poles sparingly in spite of the gains to be had from it.
She finished measuring and walked over to him, one of the jars in hand. "Time for your.....medicine, little brother." He turned his head away, and she smartly took her finger and jabbed at one of the slowly healing holes in his leg. As he cried out in pain, she fairly thrust her hand into his mouth and poured the jar's contents down his throat. He struggled for about a minute as the foul stuff burned its way down, and then he felt the feeling in hs body dulling to one gigantic achy throb, his head lolled to one side and the strange sounds and colors began to return. He could see a blue robe walking about beside him, the spider webs crawling all over it like the creatures that should have resided in them. "I'll be back later; sleep if you can," a voice said, seeming to come from miles away. "Sleep," he mumbled dreamily, and he closed his eyes and surrendered to the thick, gluey sleep of a pain-enduced nightmare.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 6:52 pm
Nuumia happily clutched the bottle that he had been given and peered down at Kyil. At first he was simply too happy. Too gleeful to note the subtle difference in the pretty prone male. Then as he became aware of a...change...he assumed it was merely due to the pain he had been feeling. Well.. Fine. Nuumia would fix that! He tucked the precious bottle into his pocket and collected the second healing potion.
Kyil merely laid still. His arms and hands ached horribly and he was well aware of swelling building in the delicate digits. The pain in his head had not abated any, and the tears still flowed from his eyes unhindered. Yet there was only a faint whimper given as Nuumia pried his lips open and poured the second potion down his throat. He swallowed, and felt the pain in his head immediately abate. Fading until there was nothing remaining of the horrible toxin's effects.
Nuumia casually cast the bottle aside and remained kneeling by Kyil. he could hear the snaps and he was able to see the twitches in Kyil's face as they realigned themselves and mended proper. However, after the last snap had sounded and the last twitch had smoothed, Nuumia was perplexed to see Kyil did not even lift his gaze to look at him. Nuumia frowned and stood beside Kyil, his hands on his hips. Well? Before Kyil would have been scrambling to get away from him, instead he was just lying there...
Nuumia swung his leg forwards into a kick, and struck Kyil in the ribs. Kyil saw the kick coming. His head was turned in the direction that Nuumia was standing. Yet he did nothing more then close his eyes and grunt at the impact. Nuumia waited another second, his frown deepening. "What's wrong with you? Come on. Get up. Your all healed." Nuumia spoke. When no response came from Kyil, he aimed another harder kick at the males ribs. Again Kyil did not move.
Something was wrong. Of that he was certain. Well...on second thought that was kind of obvious. Nuumia circled around the prone Kyil slowly. It only took him a few more moments of deep thought for him to realize... Haellara had broken him! Nuumia's eyes widened and he dropped to his knee's on either wide of Kyil's chest. Pinning his arms to his sides, Nuumia grabbed Kyil by his ears and jerked his head up so he could look into the pink eyes that Haellara had only just healed.
Kyil was aware. He knew where he was, he knew what was happening. Despite his body being healed he felt as if he had been weighed down by iron. The image of the contract was burned as painfully into his mind as the toxin had seared just moments before. He had felt a great bout of depression before. Right after he had been cast out by his previous Mistress. This was twice he had been sold now. His contract had changed hands once more. Though this time it was not in a manner that was even remotely complementing. Zariira had sold him because she did not want him anymore. He truly had failed. All that waiting...all that time trying so hard to learn these new skills. It was all for nothing. He was never going to redeem himself. He was a faulty and undesirable slave. Haellara had only bought him to remove his reason for resisting her. She didn't really want him. She had no idea what he could or could not do. Kyil felt the weight on his chest as if it were a hundred times heavier.
Nuumia called for him to rise...but he couldn't even gain enough strength to try and whisper a reply. Haellara's...future patron...his future master. He felt something inside him curl and shatter at the same time. By this point Nuumia had grasped him by the ears and was looking intently into his face. What was he supposed to say or do? He wanted to die. He willed his heart to just..stop...cease beating. Halt. But it refused to listen to him and all he could do...all he could do was cry.
Nuumia's face flickered with confusion and disappointment as he looked into the watering eyes. Kyil was still...conscious. It wasn't like he had withdrawn deep inside of himself. Nuumia had never come across a situation like this. If Kyil was going to be largely unresponsive then there would be absolutely no reason for him to continue beating on him. Besides...
"Well...I guess you've had enough..." Nuumia spoke, and felt as if it were more to himself then to Kyil. Nuumia dropped Kyils head, experimentally, and frowned as he heard the limp crack of his skull striking the stone floor. Not even enough strength or will to catch himself? Nuumia stood up and casually crossed the drying stain of blood on the floor as he sought out the cut rope from earlier. "Your part of the House now. So you have no reason to deny Matron Haellara..." Nuumia picked up the rope and turned to reproach Kyil. Not even a twitch...not a single shift.
Nuumia continued to frown as he rebound Kyil's limp and unprotesting hands behind his back with the now bloody rope. Still nothing. Nuumia resisted the urge to take a kick at Kyil's head to see if that would make him move at least. Instead he grabbed the limp male by his long white hair and proceeded to drag him all the way to Haellara's throne. He didn't even TRY to pick himself up. Oh, Nuumia heard his small sounds of pain. The little 'Enf' and 'Ah' as various parts of him was scraped and pulled and bumped. Kyil did not even protest when Nuumia twisted his hair tight and used it to tie his head to one of the feet of Haellara's throne.
Nuumia shifted back and looked at Nuumia. His black eyes narrowed. This wasn't an act. That much he could tell. Something had changed. Most likely it had something to do with the contract. Nuumia did not believe the pain he had inflicted would have rendered Kyil into such a state so quickly. He'd hardly done anything! He'd have to tell Haellara. He didn't think she wanted him a shell already after all...
Wordlessly Nuumia turned on his heel and stalked out of the throne room. His steps left behind small wet smears as he walked at a quick pace. He only needed to ask a single servant to take him directly to the Matrons Playroom once he was out in the hall. Perhaps they already knew of her plans for him? That was actually a uplifting thought! He didn't want to have to dodge the monsters of guards that she had around here all the time. In due time he was left alone outside the Playroom. Nuumia was tempted to let himself in, or at least knock but...
well....
he had already angered her once today. He never wanted to do that again. Besides, for all he knew, this was her 'special place' and he didn't want to intrude. So...he waited. Nuumia played with the vial of strange liquid that she had given him as he waited patiently outside the door. When it opened he shuffled quickly from sitting on the floor to a standing position. He doubted he had been seen right away, so he called out quickly before she could stride off and leave him scampering to catch up. "I think you broke him."
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 7:49 pm
Haellara swiftly exited the playroom, feeling her skin responding to the sudden rush of cooler air as opposed to the other room's uncomfortable heat. She felt her chest respond and smiled a bit; undoubtedly Nuumia would be drooling a line to the floor if he had seen her bare-chested just then. No, so thought with a coy smile, he would not be entitled to that particular privilege until he had proven to be an adequate player of more...intimate games than torture.
She started a bit as she saw the very drow she had been thinking of appear as if by magic, calling out about her 'breaking him'. At first, she thought about the pathetic worm she had just left behind in the playroom with holes in his legs, but then she realized that since Nuumia had not been there to witness her play, and remembering what she had forgotten in her ecstasy; that she had left Kyil's torment to Nuumia, therefore HE must be what the young male was walking about.
Her face puckered into a frown; had her purchasing him really left him THAT decrepit? She had expected him to at least shout in denial or attempt a desperate escape; surely not to buckle already like a surface elf fresh from the world above. How very....disappointing. Still, she supposed she could still use him as some sort of leverage against her brother, while he still lived.
Turning her head to the side to fix Nuumia with one eye, she began to walk back toward the throne room, gesturing for Nuumia to walk with her. "He has broken already, you say? Did he put up no fight at all? What sort of methods did you use? Tell me as we walk." She fully intended to get something out of the male herself; if he could still breathe, he could still react, and by Lolth she would get it out of him, by any means necessary.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 8:19 pm
She had been smiling. Nuumia's eyes had fixed on that blissful expression until it was that it turned so something akin to surprise. Well, he was not supposed to be here after all. He was supposed to be upstairs hurting Kyil some more. Now she frowned, and Nuu instantly fought back the urge to let his face fall in a dissappointed expression. Such open expressions were childish..and he was working hard to rid himself of such telling and embaressing habits.
Haellara gestured then for him to walk with her, and he turned a small pointed ear upwards to listen to her speak. "No Matron! Not at all!" He explained with a quick rush of words. "I'm sure nothing I did had caused him to fold like that. I mean...all I did was break his arms twice. That wasn't too bad. I had to sit on his shoulders and pull until I felt like my own arms were going to come out of their sockets but still...It wasn't that bad. And I only broke half of his fingers...and kicked his nose flat. That's something a child could handle."
Nuumia made a small gesture with his hands as if to accent how little he thought of the pain of such actions could be. Though then he patted his hands to his vest. "I suppose when i sliced the muscles behind his knee's that might have put him into mild shock. He lost a lot of blood... and I had a bit of fun dragging him by the hair trying to make him stand up. But still..he was healed of that before you came back and he was still struggling and pleading. He cries like a newborn." Nuumia found himself spitting the words in contempt as he pulled the bottle from his pocket that he had used before.
"And this stuff wouldn't have done it. I mean, it is a toxin, but it's not lethal as far as I can tell. It doesn't actually damage the eyes either. The red comes from irritation same as getting dust in your eye. And the film that forms over the pupil is actually the toxin reacting to the liquid in the eye. The real pain comes when you get it under the eye. It hits that nerve and sends pain all the way into your skull...but..It's never made anyone act the way he did. he just...laid there. I kicked him and he didn't even try to move out of the way...I left him tied by his hair to your throne. I wasn't sure where I should take him and you did say you didn't want him to leave the throne room." Nuumia inhaled deeply following his words and chanced a glance up at haellara as they walked.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 8:20 pm
Silence followed Nuumia's exit. Which was good. Kyil needed silence. he needed.... he did not know. His chest and stomach ached as did his head. Even through he was healed he still felt completely and utterly broken.
This was not what he had expected when they came to this city. Tears welled up in his eyes as he laid upon the floor. Mikaril... this was not what he wanted either. Kyil's mind had not hazed or fogged. He was completely aware of everything that had been said. He was aware of the repercussions and his situation. He was even a bit aware of Mikaril's situation. He was being tortured. By mention of the rack that was the only answer that Kyil could come to in conclusion.
In the past...Mikaril had certainly proven the wiser drow. The better thief. He understood things that Kyil was still new to. However... As Kyil laid and replayed some of their past together. Kyil had been the one to save Mikaril from the mages cage. He had also been the one to save him from the poisoning. In fact, he had saved him from torment in his old Mistresses dungeon.
When Kyil had been in need of helping, Mikaril had done so...when Mikaril had gotten into trouble...Kyil had been the one in the position to aid him. As sullent and horrible as he felt...perhaps such was the case even now...
Kyils fingers twitched, and he shifted his wrists against the ropes. The blood... His blood had made them soft and a bit more pliable. Gently he rubbed and pulled. The knots slipped and in just a few minutes Kyil's hands were free. Reaching up, he fumbled a bit with his hair. This knot Nuumia had tied tightly, and in the end Kyil ended up gripping his hair and ripping a few of the soft white strands out. Standing to his feet proved difficult. His body still felt leaden. he felt a disturbing lack of will powering his movements. He felt as if he were really only half away.
Looking down at his blood stained pants, Kyil brushed his fingers over the material, and he felt the enchantment leaving he pants. It's knowledge filtered into his brain, but he felt no moment of exstacy or pleasure that he normally did. Instead he felt...dull... Even as he converted the spells energy into another one. One that rendered him invisable, Kyil felt as if he were dragging a leaden weight.
That did not stop him from moving to the door though. The wet smears of his blood left a identifiable trail for him to follow. Nuumia may have gone to find Haellara...who would be with Mikaril...perhaps if he got to Mikaril he could help him still...
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 8:50 pm
Listening keenly to the young drow describing with relish what he had done to Kyil in her absence, Haellara could not hide a smile. "Are you certain you've never done this before?" she said with a sly wink. Not everyone knew just how devestating a precise cut at the back of the knee could be. She mentally agreed that despite Nuumia's savage little mischief would hardly suffice to plunge the male into a state of being nonresponsive. She felt a small surge of pride; Nuumia had been with her for such a short time and already he was displaying alarming amounts of savagery and fickle mean-ness. Apparently she excelled at patron-training; something she would have waved in the face of her deceased mother, had she still working eyes to see with.
"Well, I am glad that the toxin you placed upon his eyes has no lasting effects; feel free then to use it, so long as it continues to not effect the eyes, and I shall not repeat myself by explaining why." She nodded her head sagely. "I spoke rightly; I do not know where to place the little fool, and until I find one, he is to remain in the throne room where I can keep an eye on him. By the way, how did you secure him so that he does not escape while you were running to m to tell me of his seeming broken-ness?" A rather irritating suspicion was growing in her mind; that Kyil had perhaps faked catatonia in the hopes that Nuumia would do just what he had done; run for her and leave him alone to plan an escape. At least then, he would have regained her interest.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 9:06 pm
The slight wink he gained from haellara filled Nuumia with some of that old eager spirit. His face flushed a bit, and he murmured rather truthfully. "I don't know." Maybe he had done something like this before. his mind trickled back to the only memory he had of getting his hands bloody in the past. Perhaps he knew more once upon a time...
"If you want I can give you some. I just need another bottle to divide it into." Nuumia eagerly latched onto the subject of his toxin. If he now had permission to use it, perhaps he could share it with her? Perhaps she would appreciate it more if she knew it's effects by practice?
Nuumia's head bobbed a bit, as she would speak of keeping Kyil in the throne room until she had an idea of what to do with him. "That is a very good idea. But...uhm...I was wondering..." Now was a good time to bring it up wasn't it? "Who would I talk to about getting my own room? I'd like to actually sleep on a bed for the first time since...well...long as I can remember. And I would kinda like a place to keep my stuff..."
Nuumia's head tilted a little then, and he blinked his black eyes at Haellara. "I just retied his hands behind his back, then tied his hair to the foot of your throne to keep him in place.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 9:14 pm
Invisible, Kyil pushed the door of the throne room open and stepped through...and immediatly he froze. Outside the door another drow stood, looking perplexed at the empty space. As the guard came forwards to investigate the now open door, Kyil darted through and to the side. Well...he had found some of his agility again..and...his practice at walking quietly seemed to be working. As he had not made a sound on his slippered feet, he began to walk his way downt he hall. he could see the wet blood prints ont he floor, and he picked up his pace again. His spell was weak, and at it's best it would only grant him invisibility for twenty minutes. He needed to find Mikaril and...
As Kyil came down some stairs and entered another hall, he quite nearly walked into Haellara and Nuumia. Biting his tongue to keep from crying out, he pressed himself flat against the wall and waited for them to pass him. Oh..that was too...too close... he only waited for them to get a few steps away before he pressed away from the wall, he did not want to leave a tell tale heat signiture behind, and he hurried back the way they had come.
If Haellara was here...that meant Mikaril was alone... With quick and desperate steps, he ran as silently as he could on his tip toes the rest of the way. There! The blood prints stopped by a door...and such a door it was. Kyil hesitated outside of it, lingering only for a moment before he pushed it open wide enough to creep inside.
"M-m-Mikaril?" Kyil called out invisably as he closed the door behind him. It was so warm inside! "Mikaril?" He called again, a bit louder as he slipped further in...rack.... haellara had mentioned putting him on one, but needing to remove Mikaril from it first...
His pink eyes swept the room and easily found the dreaded object...and he easily spied the form atop. "Mikaril?"
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 11:09 pm
As the pair of them walked down the corridor, Haellara feound herself pausing for some odd reason, as though she could feel eyes upon her that weren't normally there. She shrugged it away almost at once; how could anyone come into her house without either her or her guards knowing it? She must still have her senses heightened from all the fun and excitement. She smiled down at Nuumia as she continued to walk. "I would like that, and if you disclose the recipe to me that's even better. I can assist you in making mind-bogglig quantities, and who knows what you could accomplish in the streets."
She blinked at Nuumia as he mentioned his own quarters. He had been out on the street looking for Mikaril for so long that she had completely forgotten that he had no proper room in the house. She was about to jokingly ask him just how much room he needed for the few items he had, but she remembered that even mere males could accumulate things once a place became available for them to do so. He might even be able to bring some 'friends' inside the house for him to practice his future patron's duties on.
She had but to think for a moment before the stroke of brilliance hit her. "Of course you must have your own room. You can use Mika's old room. He didn't use it very often, what with him being outside the city most of his life, it has no use now, and you are free to do whatever you wish with its contents to make it your own." She beamed, remembering a few instances of childish mischief where she had snuck in on a small Mikaril unawares and done things to him when he had slept. It was no wonder he would rather sleep outside with the garbage; trash didn't try to smother you with a pillow or hit your knee hard to watch your leg jerk up.
Haellara saw the doors to the throne room and braced herself for some serious fun. She walked in and her eyes roamed over to the throne, then bugged out when she saw nothing there. "Where.....is he?" She looked about the room frantically, glaring into the corners with her infrared. No telltale figure was to be seen; Kyil was gone. Eyes narrowing, she turned to Nuumia, red-yellow orbs blazing. "I thought you had secured him! He isn't here! You made it too easy for him, and now he's run off! He could be anywhere in the House by now, and I've no time to chase him down! Find him! Find him and bring him to me immediately!!" Shaking with rage, she crossed the room and sat on her throne, trying to calm herself and think on where an escaping slave might try to go. Ironically, the place where she would surely have found him was the last place she was thinking of.
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 11:41 pm
Darkness laced with ribbons of garish colors danced in Mikaril's vision, like an oil spill on a piece of onyx. He could hear his blood thundering in his ears, occasionally pierced by sounds he couldn't identify; faint cries, and insidious whispers, as though gigantic bugs were lurking in the shadows, clicking their mandibles together hungrily. Every beat of his heart felt like one big painful throb, as though his entire body was a wound that begged to be salved. Sweat beaded onto his skin and ran down in rivulets, those coming in contact with the still-open holes stinging as they caught and dripped. He felt hot and feverish, the liquid pain burning through him like a strong drink. He tried to focus on one specific thing, and it seemed to jump away from his line of vision, and when he tried to identify a sound, it was swiftly replaced with another. He tugged weakly at the bonds that held him, but to no avail. He was trapped in a nightmare, in which the drug wearing off was the only way out. Under normal circumstances he would have been hard-pressed to decide if he truly wanted a way out, but in his mind-weary state, all he could think about was bringing about an end to the pain, the eye-blinding colors, and the chilling sounds.
Out of nowhere, his ears suddenly picked up a new sound. "Mikaril?" His eyes widened, and his panting breaths turned into ragged gasps as he looked around for the source of the noise. He was certain someone had just said his name, but it sounded slow and slightly garbled, as though someone was calling to him underwater. He tilted his head as far as he could, ignoring the sting of the sweat that ran ito his eyes. "Who's there?" he said in a hoarse, frightened whisper, hearing only a faint warbling cry in reply. He shivered and looked back up at the ceiling, where the rainbows and the darkness continued their dance. It had only been a hallucination, like everything else he was experiencing right now. It would be just like Hael to include hope that someone would come and rescue him in his torment.
He heard the whisper again, closer this time, and he turned his head quickly this time to stare at the source of the sound. He thought he saw a huge splash of pink off to his right, but it was hovering in the air like a bright pink puddle, and it didn't seem to have any substance. The sounds and swirls continued unabated around it, as though it was merely a part of their dance. Of course it was; just another trick either perpetrated by his tormentor or pulled from the recesses of his mind by the drug. But there was something.......he knew something about the color pink. Hadn't he known a drow who wore pink? He knew he could remember if he could only quiet those infernal cries and turn off his thundering blood. Hadn't someone saved him once before? His brother.....Triel....was it Triel who had called him? No, Triellyn had always called him Mik, not Mikaril. Hael called him Mika, like the rock that could so easily be carved and cut to strips. Then......who.....? His lips seemed to move then of their own accord, forming a word that seemed to mean so much, and yet so little. "K-.....Ky-...."
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Posted: Thu Apr 23, 2009 11:42 pm
"Oh...oh sure!" Nuumia was quick to reply. Making the toxin would be even better then sharing it! Plus...she said -together- they could do it. The prospect of working closely with Haellara had many different levels of attractiveness. Who knew? Maybe he could impress her more. maybe he could gain even more of her favor?
It certainly seemed like he was obtaining it already. When Haellara spoke of allowing him Mikaril's old room he nearly burst out with a gleeful shout. As far as rooms went, being given a room deemed good enough for a noble son was more then he could have hoped for. Even if Mikaril was so low in the family, it changed nothing of the fact he still had noble blood to be spilled from those veins. Nuumia's face could not possibly glow with more happiness at that moment.
"Oh, thank you so much Matron! I'll make really good use of the room!" And oh would he ever! He could set up his little poisons and work on getting some better weapons and maybe he could finally get a new set of cloths! His mind was distracted, as he was thinking he really ought to see the room before he made many plans. For all he knew it was the size of a closet. It would not be unheard of to grant a son a demeaning sized room after all. Nuumia came to a pause though as Haellara shouted. he gave a small jump, and even as Haellara was turning to fix him with her angry glare, he was still searching the corners of the room. "But..he was...and he didn't...." He clamped his lips shut. Haellara had given him a order, and the wide eyed boy bobbed his head as if his neck was broken. "Yes Matron!" He exclaimed and turned quick on his toe. That...that stupid slave! He'd gone and made a fool of him!
Nuumia litteraly ran out the door, and paused only to grab at the guards wrist outside. "Did the pink eyed slave leave the room?" He demanded, to which the guard only shook his head and stammered his answer of no. "Then how did he get out?" Nuumia spoke more to himself then the guard...but it was the guard what answered.
"Sir, the door opened by itself not too long ago but...but no one was there..."
Nuumia blinked. Well...obviously it had not opened by itself..and if it had...the slave knew magic? That was not good. Not good at all! Nuu left the guard and began to run down the hall, peering down each empty corridor he passed until he found someone in servants garb. Approching them, he quickly informed them that he needed them to get some other servants and begin looking in all the empty rooms for a pink eyed male. if Kyil was trying to hide in the house..surely he'd find a empty room to hide himself in...
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 6:56 pm
Mikaril's voice sounded so...small. Kyil felt a trembling within his chest as he approched the rack slowly. It was terrible. Seeing the man he had come to admire so greatly laid out on that rack added more pain to what Kyil was already feeling. His hands shook like they never had before as he reached for that strapped down figure. Pain...he seemed to be in so much pain. Mikaril's position and appearance reminded him terribly of when Mikaril had suffered from the poison's terrible effects.
"It's me Mikaril." Kyil whipered softly as Mikaril struggled to speak his name. Kyil brought one of his trembling hands up and very gently placed the tips against Mikaril's lips. "Shhh...shhh.." He hushed those lips. "Don't...don't try and talk. I...I'll get you free." Tears continued to wet Kyil's face in a steady flow. His hand he shifted from Mikaril's lips though, to gently slide and cup one of his cheeks. A sob rose and broke from his own lips. Such pain and sorrow...He felt like he was dieing inside though he knew that was not true. This was his fault some how. He had failed in some way.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Mikaril." The words felt like they were choking him as he spoke. He wanted to cradle Mikaril's head and just beg for his forgiveness. He had to get himself under control. He had to. It was terribly hard to pull his hand away from Mikaril's cheek, but he did, only so he could turn his shaking fingers to the task of unlashing Mikaril's wrists. "I'll...I'll get you free. Then..then you can get away..."
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 8:32 pm
Once she felt her dander had lowered a sufficient amount to think clearly, Haellara allowed herself a quiet moment of thought. She believed Nuumia when he had said that Kyil had broken, and yet his recovering swiftly enough to get past the guard in the hallway hinted that he had at least some semblance of his brain left intact. Despite that, he was a stranger in a strange house, one with dozens of corridors, hundreds of doors and entryways, and who knew how many niches, secret passageways, and hidey-holes. He was like a single rat in a maze of enormous size, and she had but to take up her weapon and hunt him down.
Unless, she thought with a slow smile, Nuumia got to him first. She did not miss the look of rage upon the young male's face; she had been complimenting him by allowing him a room in the house, one that had belonged to the weakest of the house, but a page prince nontheless, and then she had turned upon him like a sickened dog, snapping at his face. She knew very well that Nuumia had done everything to the best of his ability and he was not truly to blame, but she enjoyed setting the boy against Kyil; it would keep the handsome, pink-eyed male on his toes and properly cowed to have someone after him constantly. Any of the poisonous thoughts and ideals that Mikaril had displayed in such dangerous quantities had to be beaten and pulled out of him as soon as possible. She had high hopes for his 'reconstruction.'
She tapped out a tempo on the floor with the butt of her weapon, and a male servant appeared, visibly shaken. Word must have gotten around of her evident rage at having a seemingly catatonic drow escape from her own throne room. She managed to put on a less maniacal face as she looked sternly at the male. "You. Go to the head guard and tell him to double the watches on all of the house exits. Tell them to be on teh lookout for a male with pink eyes. His clothes are pink and may be bloodstained. If any of them see him, they are to NOT kill him, but bring him straight to by throne room. Is that understood?" Nodding with wide eyes, the male turned to go. "Hold," she said quietly. Though it was slightly louder than a whisper, the male was well-attuned to his mistress, knowing that the volume of an order would have been no excuse for him ignoring her. He turned quickly and lowered his eyes, waiting for the next order.
"After you do that, I want you to return here and clean up this mess. I shall be in my quarters." She rose up and walked out the door and toward her sleeping quarters, instead of her playroom. She needed some time to think.
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 10:35 pm
Staring ahead with eyes that saw only in the realm of pain, Mikaril stared in horror at the hand that came toward him. He tried to inch away from it, but between the straps and the barbed hookd holding him in place like an insect on a display card, he was unable to move more than a couple of inches, hardly making a difference. He tried nonetheless, and was rewarded with the fleshy tap of a hook against a rib. He tried to turn his head as he felt two of the claw-like fingers touch his face; his heart began to beat faster, his body shaking along with the rhythm.
But there was something then that the drug could not alter; though it could make him see things that weren't there, and hear things that weren't there, it could do precious little about smell. The two fingers just under his nose smelt of blood, but another smell wafted up and caused his mind to begin clearing like silt settling to the bottom of a freshly-stirred up pool of water. The same smell that had alerted him the first time, the one that Haellara had somehow been able to duplicate. Had she done so again? Dare he take the chance that this might be the real thing, somehow able to find him?
He willed his eyes to focus, and though his world still retained its pain-tinted hue, he was able to make the owner of what was a normal hand after all come into sharper focus, he blinked quickly, as thoughcoming fresh out of a deep sleep. He was there. It was him. Standing there with that too-familiar apologetic look as he moved his hand further down to his cheek. The sweat clinging to him made the hand almost sting, but he said nothing of it; what was a little stinging in comparison to the rest of his senses, stretched to their pain-filled peak like a ligament string about to snap.
He clung to Kyil's worlds, though they were still garbled and odd-sounding in his ears. The other Kyil had not spoken; this more fluent one gave him hope. But as he felt the fingers messing with the straps in an attempt to untie them, he felt his coherence slipping, the pain sucking it down once more as his eyes begame glossed once more, and the colors and sounds returned. A tiny sliver of sound reached his ears, clear of the wails and cries. "I'll get you free......Then you can get away....." He found himself laughing then, a harsh, unpleasant sound even in his own untrusting ears, and he found himself babbling as though someone had turned him on like a faucet. "Escape? Oh no; there is no escape here. There is only pain, and metal. It has me in its grasp, and it will never let me go. Ever. They don't have you; you should go before they grab you. It has friends, you know; in the shadows. I hear them torturing their own victims. I can't see them, but they're there; they pause once in a while to remind me that they're there. Like I need that......."
He suddenly felt a spasm of pain race up from his right leg, and it caused him to jerk his head and bang the back of it soundly against the rack. Eyes flying open, he turned his head quickly and looked at Kyil, suddenly feeling more coherent than he had in hours. "Kyil! Listen! Don't listen to me; listen! You have to get out of here! Find a way out; there are lots of them. There's a service door on the other side of the kitchen; just follow the smell.......and the noise.....kitchen boys.....always getting burned.....clumsy....." He felt the fuzz returning to his brain like a creeping ooze, and this time he let it come. His last thought before the drug reinforced its grip on him was that Kyil would see the logic, despite its source, and try to find a means of escape.
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Posted: Fri Apr 24, 2009 11:52 pm
Kyil's hands felt like they were frozen. As Mikaril would start to struggle against the bonds he would hesitate. His pink eyes shifting to that look in his friends face. Mikaril looked delerious. he could not possibly be aware of what was going on. How was he going to get him out of here? More importantly...how was he going to get out himself?
Kyil's heart felt like it was bleeding from his chest, but he did not believe he would be accompanying Mikaril on any journy after today. He wanted to get Mikaril loose though, so he could escape and..well..be free. Even if he couldn't follow him anymore. The mere thought alone was enough to choke his throat up. Mikaril's words of telling him to get away...get away...him?
A strange little laugh worked it's way past his lips. A thin keening and un-natural laugh that sounded like it was being crushed from his lungs. Kyil rolled his head back on his shoulders, the laugh gripping him while his lips parted in a pained and humorless smile. His friend surely was delerious indeed. Friends? Torture? The only sounds Kyil was really aware of in that horrid room came from the pair.
"What has she done to you? Oh Mikaril...." His head bowed forwards as he would spill all sorts of crazt things. "You can't even think properly can you? What has she done..what has my Mistress done to you..." The words felt like a knife on his tongue, but he spoke them anyways. There was no way he could help Mikaril now...
"I will get you free. I...I need to find you some...healing things..yes...I will find you something to clear your head and... and then you can get your treasure..and leave..." Kyil turned away and glanced about him. Perhaps...perhaps there was something here...
It was frightening to step away from Mikaril and begin exploring the play room. There were things here he would have been happier to never see. Things he knew would probably harm Mikaril the longer he stayed here..and eventually? Kyil had no doubt that Haellara would do the same to him once he freed Mikaril and helped him escape. Matrons were well known for being vindictive after all.
It was the faint sense of magic that drew Kyil. Useing his sight, he was able to locate a bottle on a shelf that seemed, to his sight, to be what he wanted amid other more sinister bottles. Selecting the bottle he looked at it. Yes..yes this would do it... With less hesitation Kyil reapproched Mikaril and opened the bottle.
"Mikaril, drink. Please... this should clear your head. Please...please.." He whispered softly as he slipped one of his hands around the back of the prone drows head, he sought to tilt Mikaril's head up so he could place the bottle to his friends lips.
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