Hopefully the next chapter won't take me so horribly long to get out. I feel the need to have at least one Chaz-tachi scene in every chapter, so that the reader will know why they're were they are when they finally reenter the plot in an important way, and these scenes always take me the longest to write, if only for the referencing I have to do to my beta reader to make sure I'm keeping everyone in character.
Spoilers for the game, as in the last chapter--but then, I doubt many of you guys are reading this anyway, so what of you are, go for it, and please give me feedback and/or flames.
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That had been--distasteful. I would have preferred finding another way to break the Esper, but such was the pleasure of Dark Force. And it was certainly less time consuming than other, more mundane methods of torture. Not that I wouldn't eventually be using those methods as well, I reflected sardonically as I stood, slipping neatly back into the pants and shirt I'd discarded and turning to look at the captive.
He lay limp on the sheets--which would need to be cleaned--his hair tangled in sweat soaked strands about his shoulders and face. One of his arms hung off the side of the bed, unmoving fingers dangling just above the floor. His eyes, what I could see of them through clinging blue hair, were glazed over with pain and exhaustion, staring blankly forward, as though he were trying to distance himself from the experience.
When I again lowered myself to the bed, however, he twitched violently, gaze snapping to me. I smiled slightly at the morass of emotions in his eyes--hatred, rage, that enticing edge of fear.
Such a beautiful sacrifice.
My smile faded with the thought. I suppose I shouldn't have hoped one night would quiet that part of myself. Dark Force had to be properly served, of course. I knew the consequences of disobeying its will.
Rune opened his mouth, to curse me, I'm sure, but the only sounds that emerged were the slow, panted breaths, pained and shallow.
I knew the consequences all too well.
He will suffer to pleasure my god!
Yes.
Impassively, I brushed at Rune's hair, amused at the way he tried to pull away and only barely managed to choke back a groan as his battered body protested the treatment. The Rimit spell was beginning to wear off, granted, but now the unnatural weariness was being pushed aside by the more physical variety--which was much more painful as well, of course.
Ignoring his attempt to shy away, I leaned closer, touched my bare hand to his forehead, and then delved into his mind.
-
Cold. It was cold. Not to the point of numbness--he would have preferred being numb; it would have been less painful. He shook his head, struggling to focus through the haze in his mind. He was close. The Esper Mansion was close, he just had to find it through the thrice-cursed snow. He could imagine it so clearly--why on earth had he ever wanted to leave it? He couldn't remember. But it was close, a beckoning warmth in one corner of his mind; all he had to do was keep moving.
He didn't notice the woman blocking his path until he'd slammed right into her. He stumbled back, trying to find strength to mouth an apology. Then he froze, staring mutely into the flashing eyes of Alys Brangwin.
"Alys?" he asked, shocked. "What are you doing out here? How did you--?" He started to move closer, then backpedaled as she drew her slashers.
"Keep your distance, Walsh," she said coldly. "You're not fooling me again."
"Fooling you?" he replied, mystified. "What are you--?"
"Stay back, I said!" she barked, weapons leaping higher, aimed at his neck. "Esper or not, you're still vulnerable to having your head sliced clean off."
Something was wrong, so terribly wrong, and he couldn't remember what it was, only some nagging, insistent corner of his mind screaming at him that there was something he wasn't grasping. Wait--how had she gotten to Dezolis in the first place? Only the most powerful Espers could activate the wards at the Ladea Tower without the spells ingrained in the Psycho Wand.
"How did you get here, Alys?" he asked through the snapping winds. She didn't have the Psycho Wand; she couldn't have it. Chaz had been coming to get it--but why?
"Why does it matter, Rune?" she answered with a hard smile. "It's not like you care about me." Then, before he could demand an explanation for that ridiculous statement, she cried out in pain, staggering, pressing one forearm to her side without releasing her weapons.
"Alys!" he shouted, starting to jump forward, only to be met by her renewed glare, venomous and filled with pain. He stopped, staring at her in stunned incomprehension as she sank to one knee, the one slasher pointed at him dropping lower. "What's wrong?"
"The taint," she gasped, "not that you care." She collapsed, weapons falling abandoned into the snow.
"Why do you keep saying that?!" he demanded as he knelt beside her, pulling her into his lap and trying to see the wound she wrapped her arms around so tightly.
She shoved at him feebly, the hate in her eyes losing force before agony as she gritted, "Because it's true. If you cared, you would have been there for me, you heartless, arrogant son of a bitch!"
"Been where?!" he half-shouted, hating the way his voice cracked. One step closer to panic. "I don't know what you're talking about!"
Something in her gaze stopped him cold, frozen in place, unable to move as her eyes narrowed and she whispered, "You know."
She stiffened suddenly, with a strangled shriek, then went limp in his arms, head falling back. Shock spilled through him, then denial, and he felt hot, burning moisture stinging in his eyes as he shook her, trying to rouse her, to jolt that blank mask of death free of her face.
"Alys--? Alys! I don't understand, Alys! Alys!" The last emerged as a hoarse, ragged shout as the tears escaped his eyes and spilled down his face.
"Alys, no..." he choked, then looked up wildly as he heard the soft, cold laughter echoing in the barren emptiness around him.
He opened his eyes, and disorientation swept over him as he was greeted by the black curtains and red silk of a bedchamber, a cold room that was nonetheless practically steaming after the heavy cold of the Dezolis snows. Memory spilled back as his gaze locked on the cold, calm smile of the man sitting beside him on the bed, and wild grief was swept away by fury.
In sudden disregard for his lack of clothing, Rune lunged forward, too enraged to even attempt to use magic to escape or shield. Zio's smile widened in amusement and mockery as he calmly lifted his arms to block. The Esper snarled, feeling the heat of the tears on his face, tears evoked by a cruel illusion, a vision of all of his own turmoil and guilt turned against him, an attack within his own mind.
Driven by seething rage, he felt the fingers of one hand catch and coil in the black leather of Zio's glove. Seeing the sudden, unexpected expression of shock and fear flash over the older man's face, Rune gave a feral growl and pulled at it viciously, determined to see what Zio masked from the world, what scarred his hand so that its mere touch burned like dark fire.
Zio pushed him back, onyx eyes wide, trying to tear his arm free, wrestling in sudden desperation that the Esper could sense in stark clarity, his empathy heightened by the rush of adrenaline throbbing in his blood.
Zio was no match for him in physical strength, and, suddenly, the glove tore loose. Rune froze, staring in horror at the sight exposed to his disbelieving gaze.
-
I sat still, unable to move, hearing my heart thundering in my ears as Rune fixed wide blue eyes on my left hand. Tainted was too kind a description for what had been done to it so many years ago. Remembered pain burned in my fingers, the echo of a shrill scream of utter, indescribable agony ringing inside of my mind. In the light, I stared at it for the first time since I'd donned the glove, which I never once afterwards had removed.
Nothing had changed. If anything, it had grown worse. The fingers could barely be called that anymore, twisted and clawlike as they had become. The skin gleamed a sickly, oily black, no longer even remotely human. Once flawless flesh was marred by scars, testament to where I'd gripped it tightly as it transformed, wracking me with spasms of a pain that was anathema to every creature of the Light, a torture that hollowed my mind, a violation so deep and lasting that I would never be rid of it. All for the sin of daring to disobey the master to which I had willingly given my soul. All I'd wanted then was to understand the power in me, the magic, true magic, that I could not control or comprehend, that had been driving me half-mad.
I should have been an Esper. Was an Esper. But because of the magic, I'd been cast out of my home, given my soul to the darkness, then twisted and tainted forever at the first show of a will of my own, branded with another self, one that lived only to serve Dark Force. That voice, ever in the back of my thoughts, that took control if I lacked care, the one that wished even the act of joining to be twisted. And now the almighty Lutz dared to stare at me as though I were some animal, some abused creature that didn't know what it was doing.
Pity. He pitied me. He knew nothing of me, of the torment I'd seen, and he dared to show me pity!
It was too much to bear. The outrage of it, the fury, welled up inside me, stronger than anything I'd felt in years. And thus when that voice inside of me cried out, I did not even attempt to fight it back.
Make him suffer! Teach him the meaning of pain! Twist his purity--show him what it is to touch the glory of Dark Force!
No, for once that voice and I were in complete accord. For the first time in my servitude, I willingly offered up control of my body to it, allowing it free reign, with my blessings, to do as it would to the one who'd stripped me of my most important shield.
-
That feeling of sickness hadn't vanished from Chaz's stomach as the day went on. By the time lunchtime had gone by, Chaz's dread had been too much for him to keep from the others. He'd found Demi with Rika and asked the android, fearfully, and not without hesitance, what had happened to her when she'd been Zio's captive.
Ignoring his hurried apologies for the question, she'd said simply that there was little Zio could have done to her without damaging her too greatly to be useful, but that Rune was a different matter entirely.
"I wish I could give you more hopeful words, Chaz," she'd said regretfully, "but Zio's mind--is less than stable, I believe. At times, he was perfectly calm, then, at others, he would grow violent, demand that I carry out his orders. It was highly irregular."
Nodding wearily, he'd left, noticing Rika's encouraging smile and offering a poor, wan attempt to return it. Seeking some solitude to practice with his sword, he'd tried to find some solace in physical exertion. There'd been little of the sort, as he could almost hear Rune rebuking him for any falter or misstep.
Dinner had been an ordeal, to say the least. Rika, to her credit, had made an attempt at conversation, cheerful as always, though it was slightly forced. Hahn had responded well enough, but Chaz had been too distracted to contribute much, espescially with Gryz's poorly-disguised dissaproval of the choice to wait made obvious with any contribution the Motavian made. Chaz had left the dinner table early, claiming weariness; it was true enough, if in a mental sense rather than a physical.
As he'd expected, he couldn't sleep. The remembered battle against Zio haunted him, with Rune's face in his mind everytime he'd closed his eyes. He'd gone still when the others had come in, tired of playing leader, tired of talking.
Tired as he was, however, it was well past midnight before uneasy sleep finally claimed him.
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Yes, the Chaz scene sucked ass. I hope to do better next chapter, when the group actually gets off its collective butt and goes to do something about the situation.