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 Posted: Wed Jan 07, 2015 4:33 pm
Penthe had not exactly had many visitors - Cyllene, who had wanted to talk; Quartz, who had brought her water; the very bored looking Captain who had yet to move from her seat not far away; a few Negas who had smacked her around rather uncreatively and demanded she told them where she got her markings. She had told them exactly where they could shove their questions, because it would take more than "average sparring practice, really" to get her to divest her secrets. Penthe was not entirely convinced she wasn't asleep, at this point.
She could feel someone approaching - her aura senses weren't completely destroyed, even if she was tired and her arms ached and she was bruised and battered.
"Come on in, bibitte, unless you're too afraid," she sneered at the door, her voice raised as much as she could even though her throat still ached. "Don't ********' draw it out!"
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 3:25 pm
At last. Finally… he would finally be face to face with the senshi responsible for his brother’s death. The one who had killed him and revealed to him the true nature of senshi. His hazel eyes sparkled in delight as he slowly pushed the door open to step inside.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you…” he told her, his eyes shining bright with mirth. “You don’t know who I am…” he introduced, slowly stepping towards her, “But you took someone very dear to me. Actually had it not been for you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. So really… I can’t decide if I should thank you…” He paused, his expression morphing, suddenly pulling his weapons from subspace. “Or make you pay…”
He looked wild, his face twisting into an expression of rage and grief, inhuman in nature.
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Posted: Thu Jan 08, 2015 4:11 pm
Penthesilea was not really all that impressed with one Lieutenant. As far as she was concerned, she ate Lieutenants for breakfast, except usually they were on more even ground and there weren't chains holding her in place.
"I ******** up a lotta agents' days, you're gonna have to be a helluva lot more specific if you're tryin'ta make me feel bad," she sneered, all arrogance and confidence. The more of that she displayed, the more likely she would come out of this on top. At least, that was her running theory.
He looked crazy. Crazy and pissed, with a...well, alright, the plastic knife wasn't exactly intimidating, and she cracked a grin.
"Aww, ain't you cute. What're you gonna do, poke at me with that?"
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2015 3:17 pm
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said as his face twisted into a cruel smirk in return. “I’ll get creative.” he approached her slowly, discarding one of his plastic knives in the process, reaching up with his now freed hand to grip onto the knife, promptly snapping it and creating a sharper edge.
“Does this work better for you?” he asked almost gleefully, watching every change of expression on her face. He approached her, and like many of his other chained victims, delivered a punch to her chest, wanting to beat her down before having the fun he was so looking forward to.
“I didn’t think you’d remember, but that’s no concern. Once I’m done with you, it’ll be enough to make up for every officer you’ve killed,” he promised, punching her in the face once more for good measure.
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Posted: Fri Jan 09, 2015 3:41 pm
Penthe's eyes widened in surprise for a brief moment, but she quickly put back on what she felt was a pretty well confident mask. "Now that's a weapon, much better, c'mon," she said, because maybe if she buried her fear in a tiny corner in the back of her mind it wouldn't hurt and she would make it through.
She laughed, at first, when he punched her. Punches were nothing, she was used to brutal sparring - but he was obviously very determined, and fine, let him break her into as many pieces as he liked, or try to.
"What're you gonna do with that shitty little knife, huh, cowan?" She asked coldly. "Try an' bleed whatever secrets I've got outta me? Or are you just here for revenge?"
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Posted: Sat Jan 10, 2015 10:14 am
Warning: Blood/Gore
“I honestly don’t give a s**t about your secrets,” he sneered, moving up close to her, inspecting the bindings that held her to the turn table. “Revenge, on the other hand…” He lifted his hand with the broken knife to her exposed arm first, pressing the sharp edge into her skin and dragging it along the length.
He would make her suffer. He would make her pay for everything she had ever done.
The knife was coated in her blood by the time he was finished with the one arm. He didn’t expect her to show much of a reaction with just one cut, but there would be more. In fact, Jet didn’t even wait for her to respond, but went to her other arm to do the same. He drew patterns of red, cut deep, following the lines that glowed, wondering if ‘trying to understand why she glowed’ would be a good enough excuse for bleeding her to death.
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Posted: Sat Jan 10, 2015 11:19 am
[[CW: Blood, gore]]Revenge. A perfectly admirable motive, as motive that had driven her to things as bad or worse than this. (She recalled Amytis and Tantalus, broken by her own hand to draw out Damocles over something far less than the death of a loved one. And so although she swore to herself that she would not let this go unanswered, she also knew that it was not at all undeserved, in the long, cosmic sense. Perhaps this was justice for all she had done.)
She grit her teeth against the first cut, squeezed her eyes shut, refused, at first to cry out.
But he took his knife to her other arm, tracing patterns her planet had drawn on her skin, and that was when she screamed. It was rage and agony together, because it hurt like hell and how dare he. How dare he even think to profane her markings that way?
(She would bear them on her skin in both forms, now.)
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Posted: Mon Jan 12, 2015 4:43 pm
Warning: Blood/Gore
Digging his broken knife into her skin at a particularly intricate part of the pattern, the knife slipped and struck Jet’s thumb. “s**t…” he hissed, shaking his hand and glaring at the woman as if it was her fault. It was a small cut but still hurt. “You don’t mind if I borrow this, right?” he sneered, tugging at the scarf she wore around her waist.
As he wiped the blood off his hand, something strange happened and he nearly dropped the piece of red fabric in surprise when he noticed not only was the blood gone, but the cut as well. Instead there was a tiny scar from where the knife had gouged him.
“What is this…?” he stared in surprise, looking from the scarf to the woman. “Is this your magic…?”
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Posted: Sat Jan 17, 2015 9:47 pm
[[CW: Blood, gore]]Penthe should not have been so satisfied to see him cut himself, in his slicing of her skin. She bled, badly, and part of her feared that this would kill her from blood loss - but at least he would hurt too, if only a little bit.
And then he reached for the sash, and she had to bite back a jump and a loud denial. No, no, he couldn't touch it, not an artifact of her people, he didn't deserve to put his filthy hands on it -- but she couldn't stop him.
And it worked its magic, and she wanted to scream.
"No." She said. "I don't fix s**t, boy, I break it, an' when I get off this wheel I'm gonna break you." Never resist an opportunity for a threat.
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Posted: Wed Jan 28, 2015 3:59 pm
”Will you now…?” he wondered, a sneer growing on his lips. She would bleed out at this rate. He wished he had more time with her… but it looked like he was having a streak of luck. Slowly he reached out to place the scarf along her arm, wiping the blood from the cuts he’d created, delighted when he saw her scarred but healed as the fabric was removed. “Oh… I believe I’ll be borrowing this…” he grinned wickedly. “Lucky for you…. you’re going to survive another day…”
He finished healing her, wiping where he’d cut, leaving her weak but no longer bleeding. “I’ll be back,” he promised as he laughed and turned to leave, taking the scarf with him. Noir Songbird Exit for Jet! Done? Unless you want to post! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR RPING WITH ME ILU
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Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2015 8:11 pm
Penthe froze. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, he wasn't supposed to be able to heal her, not that quickly - not with her own damn sash.
It had been a gift from her world, and now he had stolen it, and she wondered, fearfully, if he would use it on others too, twist it as an instrument of torture.
When the Lieutenant left, she started crying. Not enough that there were loud wailing sobs, but she cried as quietly as she could, shoulders shaking and tiny whimpers escaping her. It was not the pain that broke her - it was the theft, and the promise of more.
And the knowledge that all he wanted was for her to suffer.
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