Persecution. Four
Without warning, he was shocked with a splash of icy chill. It cut into him like a knife and he almost—almost—let a gasp slip through his steeled defenses. The thrown water hadn't been like the last incidents. They had simply rebranded him over and over, until it was apparent that his healing ability wasn't going to allow him to be scarred. This time, he idly watched a man approach him with a knife and a vial of some kind of dark ink. Great.
It didn't take a genius to figure out the purpose of this. His quick healing rendered such branding as futile attempts. He'd shrugged off all sorts of mutilation without a shred of a scar. He could already feel the charred skin tingling back into feeling and at just about the time the cold blade of the knife carved the dead skin. A shiver passed down his spine involuntarily at the feeling of having his face peeled—carved into like he was a piece of sculpting clay. The cold water collided with his face again, cruelly. The exposed layers of flesh didn't hurt as they would if he'd not been branded prior, but it wasn't a pleasant feeling. His insides lurched from the way the blade just seemed to slide along his face.
They were going to make certain he was shamed forever. When thick fingers roughly ground the black ink into the carved open skin, he couldn't restrain a strangled cry. It was the combination of the carving and the fractured bone beneath. He was being mutilated on the same side of his face that he'd gotten kicked in.
It didn't matter.
So he would have a mark. He wasn't vain enough to care. Let them shame him until the end of time. His pride wouldn't let him lie down and have this break his spirit. He'd spit in this man's face too, if he was able to.
Some kind of thick leather was pressed against his face and held with the fresh ink. The large CROW member held the back of his head and the leather against his cheek so hard that he thought his had was going to be crushed between them. It was obvious what this was for. His body instinctually kicked into his healing ability in order to try and preserve itself and keep fighting. He was being forced to heal quicker. This was forcing the ink to stain the layers of skin. Even his body's healing ability couldn't erase that. The ink poisoning was killed nearly immediately by his regenerative powers, but he still felt the sudden tenderness at the wound. The man's hand felt like Lavi's hammer being crushed into his face.
He closed his eyes, begging the wound to heal already so the two-ton fuck of a man could let him go and leave him to stew in his shame without having his skull compressed. Judging by the way the man had carved, Kanda only guessed that the symbol was a well pronounced letter A. He supposed that was expected with his charge of adultery. Though the thought of an English letter carved into his Asian face made him a little bitter.
"I hope you at least made it pretty," he grunted, trying to sound nonchalant while his head was suffering the brutality of the church's holy guard.
To Be Continued...
A/N: WakeToSanity, you should go get a tumblr :D It's awesome. ThenICouldHarassYouAllTheTime. AndMakeYouCryWithMyWritings.
