Equius swallowed the last of the rough, stale bread and pushed the grubloaf to the side. He'd feed it to the nest of squeakbeasts in the corner of his cell. Bringing a little pleasure into the lives of small creatures made the nagging hunger far more bearable. He rolled onto his back and lay on his bruises, enjoying the satisfying ache. He didn't know why his captor still bothered; the great STRENGTH of his muscles prevented any serious bone or organ damage, and simple pain was no issue for him. Rather enjoyable, in fact, but even if it wasn't, he would have withstood much more to keep Nepeta from harm. Of course she wasn't what they were looking for, but if they found the Signless' followers, they would find her. As for their attempts at subjecting him to the dreaded chucklevoodoos, living next door to Vriska had taught him from an early age how to resist psychic attacks. The Grand Highblood could of course have smashed his mental defenses with ease, but he seemed to be saving that for a last resort - from professional pride, Equius guessed, determination to break this upstart adolescent without resorting to such a simple method. Whatever the reason, he wasn't complaining.
Equius woke strapped to a chair in an ill-lit and foul-smelling room, again. He pulled as gently as he could at his restraints, testing them, not to break free but to admire their craftsmanship. They held his limbs tightly enough to prevent him getting any leverage to work them free, and became tighter if he pulled too hard. Masterful. He couldn't have designed better himself.
Huge hands slid around his neck from behind, strapping something over his chin. The murky light, his long-missing glasses, and the angle made it hard to tell what it was, but as it settled in place he realised it was a bowl-like mask with a watertight rubber seal clamping onto his face, over his nose and mouth, with just enough room for him to open his jaw slightly, and a short wide tube leading to a large funnel. Equius' eyes widened. This was worrying. Still, nothing he couldn't handle. The Grand Highblood's stinking breath hit his ear in a cool gust as the huge troll chuckled, and Equius calmed. Whatever he was to be subjected to, it was an honour to obey this troll, a service to the Empire to exercise his ability to bear suffering, and a joy to protect his moirail. The worse it was, the greater the satisfaction in withstanding it.
A warm, soothing smell reached his nose through the funnel, and it took him a moment to recognise it; a young female subjugglator, not yet at full size, led in a small hoofbeast on a rope halter. The little beast whinnied and pulled away at the stink of the torture chamber, but the handler stroked it and whispered to it, calming it enough to keep it still. Equius frowned; the poor thing was not old enough to take a troll for itself, and so it did not belong indoors, especially not in a room such as this one. No wonder it was afraid. How could these trolls mistreat an innocent creature so? It was blasphemy, that was what it was, the heathen clowns tormenting the beasts which for millennia had been Alternia's greatest symbol of STRENGTH and pride! Why was it even here? The possible answers were each more disgusting than the last, but nothing he couldn't bear... He was not prepared for what happened.
The Grand Highblood stalked around in front of the watching captive, took the rope halter from the trembling troll, and dismissed her with a wave. She vanished from Equius' line of sight, and the Highblood unbound the rope from the little hoofbeast and strung it from a hook in the ceiling. With a great heave, he lifted the animal and looped the rope around its heels before it could struggle free, leaving it thrashing and bellowing in terror as it dangled from the ceiling. Equius made a muffled sound, his jaw unable to open enough to form words, attempting to soothe it or to protest, he was unsure. The Highblood ignored him, gripped the creature's head in one hand, and in one smooth movement tore out its throat.
A great gush of blood poured out, and landed directly in the funnel.
With all the presence of mind he had trained into himself over the sweeps, Equius managed to keep his mouth closed as the warm blue liquid hit it, though he let out a sound of horror in a rush of breath through his nose as his lips squeezed shut. He wished he had not, as the gag rapidly filled up, covering his mouth and nose, and he had emptied his lungs with the cry. Tears of grief and disgust leaked from his eyes, and he looked up at the smirking Highblood in horror.
The troll shrugged. "You can drink, or you can drown. Your motherfucking choice, kiddo."
He managed to hold out until he fainted. For his pains, he woke up in the same chair, wearing the same bloody mask, with a ring-gag added.