Eternal Night
Rated: R
By Lynn Osburn
Because fanfic.net is horrible about italics and bold and such...
~shall represent a characters thoughts~
: shall represent a dream or vision:
CHAPTER THREE:
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everythings made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Mozenrath ran through the halls as fast as his tiny feet could carry him. With two years growth now firmly on his body, the eight year old boy used his long legs to put distance between him and his Master. ~Master. He always makes me call him Master~ Mozenrath thought as he turned down a corridor and speed down the stairs. He could feel the mana beginning to pulse behind him as Destain yelled for him to get back there. He knew he was in for it!
This time he'd really messed up badly.
The mana flow behind him broke and Mozenrath was knocked off his feet and into a wall. He whimpered as the hard marble hit his back and forced himself to stand as Destain's boots clicked furiously down the halls. The vile shadows that haunted this Citadel watched his plight with wicked humor, delighting in the young boys torment. He knew they watched and it only made him run faster as he felt Destain begin to build power again. He gathered some of the mana from the air around him, using the breathing technique Destain had spent three months pounding into his head to pull the power into his lungs and keep it there. It was going to make it difficult to get air in his chest and impossible to run, but if he could use the power to build a small shield, it would keep the brunt of his Master's anger from damaging him too much.
He put the minor shield in place just in time to brace himself for Destain's next attack. He still went sprawling, but instead of the mind numbing pain the magick usually brought, he only had to deal with bodily pain from hitting the floor. Once again he pulled himself up and disappeared into an empty room, hoping to wait out his Master's rage. He shut off the mana surge inside himself as he heard Destain yelling for him again. The sorcerer was adept at sensing the young boy's flow whenever he needed a verbal/physical punching bag. And Mozenrath had become adept at hiding his natural magick whenever he could sense that mood in Destain's voice. He waited patiently, holding his breath until the footsteps faded echo left his ears, and the peeked his head out the door, searching for anyone's presence.
Not only was Destain a danger, but those frightening shadows that lurked about where the torchlight couldn't reach would cause damage to him. Physically, they were no threat, they had no bodily substance in any form and couldn't attack him outright. But it was a favorite game of theirs to attack Mozenrath while he slept, disturbing his dreams and leaving him un- refreshed the next morning. If Destain was intolerant of sloth, he was even less intolerant when Mozenrath would try to hide his head behind a book to catch a few extra minuets sleep.
What had angered his Master this time hadn't been the shadow's fault, not specifically anyhow. Mozenrath had misread a word or two of Farsi and ended up adding the wrong kind of dragons blood to the concoction. The reaction had caused the cauldron to explode, covering the lab in a nasty smelling concoction that began eating away at anything it touched, including Destain's collection of Egyptian magickal scripts from over a thousand years of sorcery.
Mozenrath had barely made it out the door before Master Destain's shock had dispersed and he'd begun firing at him. Once again, Mozenrath entertained the thought of leaving. It wouldn't take much just to get out of the Citadel. There were no guard's here and of course the shadow's couldn't grab him. He'd expected some sort of magickal lock on the doors when he'd tried to escape last time and had been surprised to find none. The only problem would be where to go afterwards.
~Isn't this the only life I have? I mean, I know there are other lives but what kind of life?~ He was still frightened of the unclean people that kept the town contaminated and unlivable. Would he have to 'live' with them? The idea was worse then anything he could imagine. Destain would sometimes bring those diseased people up to the Citadel, using their warped and bodies for experiments that would further mutilate them.
As much as Mozenrath felt sorry for these people, they also disgusted him. And as much as he was disgusted, he was fascinated. All children have a morbid desire to get a closer to something that frightened them. Mozenrath was no different. He found what was happening to the human body fascinating, even when it meant getting close enough to truly see what Destain was warping them into. He often felt repulsed by what he saw, but didn't dare show it while his Master watched. Destain often accused him of having a weak stomach, especially after he'd seen the effects of what happened when a live tarantula was dropped into a live human's stomach.
He sighed and walked out of the room, knowing full well why he didn't try to escape again. He had nowhere to go. And when you have nowhere to go, all you can do is stay where you are. Mozenrath checked around each corner before he walked on, making his way up to the small room Destain had given him. Everything he had seemed to depend on his Master's desire to be generous.
Even the clothing on his back was there because Destain had claimed to feel generous. It made Mozenrath's stomach churn to remember how Destain had refused to leave the room as he had changed out of the clothing he had worn and into a dark blue shirt and black jumper with gold clasps. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he thought of how Destin had simply sat there, his eyes wandering over the young, pale body of his pupil. He still couldn't understand why one minuet Destain would stand far away from him, and the next minuet he would be standing there, stroking Mozenrath's curly hair and sniffing it hungrily.
He hated the way Destain had taken to calling him little kitten. He supposed it was because of his mother being a catling, but it didn't make sense since he was without any sort of fur or claws or cattish behavior of any sort. Mozenrath tried not to broad over it for too long, but sometimes there wasn't anything to do but broad. An intelligent child, he often found himself bored when he wasn't studying or doing an errand for Destain. He had found a small joy in the massive library that took up a good portion of the Citadel. Most of what was there was nothing but magickal text, but occasionally he would find an old storybook or historical chronicle that made for an interesting read with his imagination.
He had hoarded those books like a dragon hoarded gold and hide them under a floor board in his room. The ploy had worked for nearly three months now. Every time Destain walked over that small patch of boards his heart skipped a beat, but it was worth it.
Mozenrath walked into his room and closed the door softly behind him, taking care not to walk on the creaky planks with his boots on. Destain had sharp ears that would detect any movement in this house. He smoothed out the straw filled mattress he has stitched together himself and stuffed the clumps of wheat that had fallen back in. The bed was itchy and crude, but as long as he could get sleep in it, he was happy.
Mozenrath walked over to the boards and carefully pried them up, taking one of the leather bound books from inside and opening it to the bookmark. He smiled contentedly and settled down on his bed, searching behind his pillows for a stash of crackers and fruit juice he stole from the kitchen. Destain was always forgetting that children needed food to keep going, and so Mozenrath and taken care of it himself. He took care of almost everything that Destain 'forgot' about. He washed his own cloths, cleaned his own room, fed and bathed himself. When Destain wouldn't remember what lesson they had done the night before, Mozenrath would work twice as hard to catch up by the next morning so as not to suffer blows for not studying.
He erased that from his head. Just for a short while, he was going to ignore that the rest of the world existed and absorb himself in one of his favorite stories about a fisherman who found a genie in an old bottle. He rested his back against the rumpled corner of the wall and opened the book, munching on crackers and sipping from his juice flask.
"Why you little thief."
Mozenrath didn't waist a second when he heard Destain's voice. He dropped everything in his lap and bolted for the door, determined to out run his Master yet again. "Oh no my little kitten. Not this time." Destain's mana flow disrupted the air around Mozenrath's body and he felt his muscles cramp and seize up. He caught himself before he landed face first on the floor and tried to scoot away. Destain's power gripped hold around his legs as Mozenrath's fingernails clawed into the wood. "You foolish little child. Did you think you could hide from me in my own home?"
"Let me go! I didn't have any choice!" Mozenrath protested as he felt Destain's long nailed hand close around his shoulder blade, digging his claws in. "You would have killed me if I didn't run!" Mozenrath tried to keep his breathing steady in case he had to throw up he shield's again, but Destain's magick invaded his mouth quickly, making it impossible for his lungs to expand fully.
"Killed you?" Destain let out a low chuckle. "My dear boy, nothing on this earth could persuade me to end your life. As often as the idea tempts me." He tossed Mozenrath onto the bed and hummed gently, once again twisting the boy's limp curls around his fingers. "I may give you an occasional love tap, but what good parental substitute wouldn't?" He lifted Mozenrath's chin and didn't notice the light pink tinge coming over Mozenrath's cheeks as he tried desperately to breath. "After all, aren't I like a father to you?" he asked, fully knowing that Mozenrath couldn't answer. "Haven't I given you a roof over your head, cloths on your back? I'm providing you with an education many would die for. And this is how you show your gratitude." Destain smiled and caressed Mozenrath's cheek "You need to be punished"
Destain fumbled momentarily with his long robe, his desire for the child consuming him. It had been so long since he'd buried himself in a body so young and full of life. He could feel the power throbbing from deep inside Mozenrath and vowed to bring himself closer to it, no matter how he had to go about it. Once he was free of the tangle of clothing, Destain touched Mozenrath between the legs, cupping the child sized organ in his fingers. "So tiny. You will have years before you make it into a man's." He mocked and Mozenrath's lashed out, bringing his heel into Destain's thigh.
Mozenrath jumped and bounded off the bed the instant he heard Destain's 'oaff' at the contact. He knew what Destain was after. It all made sense now in one terrifying moment. All those lustful stared, those gentle fondles whenever he would do something correctly. It all flashed in front of his eyes like a blinding sun. He knew what Destain wanted, and he wasn't going to let him get it.
Mozenrath grabbed the door handles and pulled. To his horror, they didn't budge. He pulled again and again, desperately trying. He futile gathered his magic and flung it at the brass handles, watching as the bent and twisted, but didn't open. He threw himself into the doors and heard Destain rise from the bed. He turned around and looked into the angry face of his mentor.
"You will pay for that little kitten." Destain didn't even feign gentleness as he grabbed a handful of Mozenrath's thick ebony curls and flung him over the side of the bed. He was tall for an eight year old, and rested perfectly across the side. Destain saw him try to dodge and run again, and stopped it in the middle this time, seizing hold of the child's hips, and forcing his foul worm of a organ inside the boy' body.
Mozenrath shrieked in pain. He was untouched in this way, his muscles contracted and he felt the organ dive in, ripping his insides. He felt his skin burn back there as he was pushed deeper into, twisting the thin flesh till it hurt. The same feeling could have been gotten by shoving a knife inside again and again. At first he was dry, the violating object grating against his skin like sandpaper. But soon enough his inside's tore violently, and he began to bleed. Destain smiled to hear Mozenrath whimper as he continued with the act. Already his under senses were connecting with Mozenrath's blocking them up like a cork in a champagne bottle. He couldn't collect the magick inside Mozenrath, he couldn't even really touch it, but being so close to such a well of power! He brought his hips back and thrust in harder and harder. Mozenrath's frame jerked back and forth as he cried and bit down into his lip. Destain's hands wandered over his body. They ran over his ribs and around his spine, holding his hips and caressing down his inner thigh. There was a warped sense of contentment he got from rape. A feeling of power and control over another human beings body that filled his ego with arrogance. ~He deserves to be punished. He stole from me and ran when all I would have done was beat him!~ In his depraved mind, the excuse made sense and he allowed it to thrive. His anger grew as he thought about his 'kindness' with taking the boy in. His thrusting grew faster and harder and he delighted in Mozenrath's muffled screams.
~The boy is a prize indeed! So tight and warm, so full of power and energy.~ He gave another violent thrust as he released inside Mozenrath's body. He stayed still for a second, gathering his wits about him again and bring his breathing back under control. He would need to let Mozenrath's sleep now. Let him think about the consequences of disobeying his Master. He heard no noise from under him as he slid out from between the tightness and casually prodded Mozenrath to see if he was alive.
Mozenrath gave a subdued whine as he realized Destain was done and slowly moved himself away, using his arm strength to support himself. He knew the thick wetness sliding down his legs and over his thighs was blood. He could smell the metallic tint of it in the air. His legs felt like jelly as he moved them. Tears made his face feel dry and dirty, sticks of straw stuck out of the corner of his mouth. His hair was in tangles and he hurt wherever Destain had touched him. ~Let it be over. Just let it be over.~ He begged anyone listening as he watched his Master rise from the bed and dress himself.
"Now you know what happens when you anger me Mozenrath." Destain said in a low, even voice. "Just remember, you brought this on yourself. Perhaps next time when I give you a job to do, you'll do it correctly." Destain finished arranging his robe and turned back around. "Now get yourself cleaned up. I will make sure that food is brought to you." And with those words he left.
Mozenrath didn't move for a long time. He just crawled back into the darkest corner he could find, pressed his chin to his knees, and wept. He didn't know what else to do. His body didn't feel like it could move and he was didn't want to try for fear of tearing himself further. A breeze issued forth from the open window in his room and ruffled his hair, making his burning skin feel a little better. He still felt dirty and everything bellow his waist was sticky. The practical part of his mind took over and he stood up using the wall.
His clothing lay on a rumpled heap by the bed, but he wasn't going to put them back on yet. He needed to bath first, get this filthy feeling off him. Despite the crumbled state of everything else in this so called kingdom, the Citadel still had running water. Mozenrath poured the small tub full of bath water and slowly lowered himself into the tub. The heat stung at first, but soon it began to sooth his pain. He sat there numbly for a while, not thinking or doing anything. He reached behind his back and touched the orifice Destain and pushed into. Dried blood flaked off and surfaced in the water. Mozenrath looked at it and pulled a washcloth out of a cabinet, cleaning himself.
He didn't know where the rage came from. He didn't want to know. But when the pure anger raced through his veins, cursing Destain and what he'd done. Mozenrath didn't question it. It felt GOOD to be angry at someone! At anyone! It was his mother's fault for leaving him with that disgusting shell of a human being! It was the shadow's fault for making him tired and unable to concentrate!
And Destain!
Destain was a whole new feeling of hatred.
Rated: R
By Lynn Osburn
Because fanfic.net is horrible about italics and bold and such...
~shall represent a characters thoughts~
: shall represent a dream or vision:
CHAPTER THREE:
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everythings made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Mozenrath ran through the halls as fast as his tiny feet could carry him. With two years growth now firmly on his body, the eight year old boy used his long legs to put distance between him and his Master. ~Master. He always makes me call him Master~ Mozenrath thought as he turned down a corridor and speed down the stairs. He could feel the mana beginning to pulse behind him as Destain yelled for him to get back there. He knew he was in for it!
This time he'd really messed up badly.
The mana flow behind him broke and Mozenrath was knocked off his feet and into a wall. He whimpered as the hard marble hit his back and forced himself to stand as Destain's boots clicked furiously down the halls. The vile shadows that haunted this Citadel watched his plight with wicked humor, delighting in the young boys torment. He knew they watched and it only made him run faster as he felt Destain begin to build power again. He gathered some of the mana from the air around him, using the breathing technique Destain had spent three months pounding into his head to pull the power into his lungs and keep it there. It was going to make it difficult to get air in his chest and impossible to run, but if he could use the power to build a small shield, it would keep the brunt of his Master's anger from damaging him too much.
He put the minor shield in place just in time to brace himself for Destain's next attack. He still went sprawling, but instead of the mind numbing pain the magick usually brought, he only had to deal with bodily pain from hitting the floor. Once again he pulled himself up and disappeared into an empty room, hoping to wait out his Master's rage. He shut off the mana surge inside himself as he heard Destain yelling for him again. The sorcerer was adept at sensing the young boy's flow whenever he needed a verbal/physical punching bag. And Mozenrath had become adept at hiding his natural magick whenever he could sense that mood in Destain's voice. He waited patiently, holding his breath until the footsteps faded echo left his ears, and the peeked his head out the door, searching for anyone's presence.
Not only was Destain a danger, but those frightening shadows that lurked about where the torchlight couldn't reach would cause damage to him. Physically, they were no threat, they had no bodily substance in any form and couldn't attack him outright. But it was a favorite game of theirs to attack Mozenrath while he slept, disturbing his dreams and leaving him un- refreshed the next morning. If Destain was intolerant of sloth, he was even less intolerant when Mozenrath would try to hide his head behind a book to catch a few extra minuets sleep.
What had angered his Master this time hadn't been the shadow's fault, not specifically anyhow. Mozenrath had misread a word or two of Farsi and ended up adding the wrong kind of dragons blood to the concoction. The reaction had caused the cauldron to explode, covering the lab in a nasty smelling concoction that began eating away at anything it touched, including Destain's collection of Egyptian magickal scripts from over a thousand years of sorcery.
Mozenrath had barely made it out the door before Master Destain's shock had dispersed and he'd begun firing at him. Once again, Mozenrath entertained the thought of leaving. It wouldn't take much just to get out of the Citadel. There were no guard's here and of course the shadow's couldn't grab him. He'd expected some sort of magickal lock on the doors when he'd tried to escape last time and had been surprised to find none. The only problem would be where to go afterwards.
~Isn't this the only life I have? I mean, I know there are other lives but what kind of life?~ He was still frightened of the unclean people that kept the town contaminated and unlivable. Would he have to 'live' with them? The idea was worse then anything he could imagine. Destain would sometimes bring those diseased people up to the Citadel, using their warped and bodies for experiments that would further mutilate them.
As much as Mozenrath felt sorry for these people, they also disgusted him. And as much as he was disgusted, he was fascinated. All children have a morbid desire to get a closer to something that frightened them. Mozenrath was no different. He found what was happening to the human body fascinating, even when it meant getting close enough to truly see what Destain was warping them into. He often felt repulsed by what he saw, but didn't dare show it while his Master watched. Destain often accused him of having a weak stomach, especially after he'd seen the effects of what happened when a live tarantula was dropped into a live human's stomach.
He sighed and walked out of the room, knowing full well why he didn't try to escape again. He had nowhere to go. And when you have nowhere to go, all you can do is stay where you are. Mozenrath checked around each corner before he walked on, making his way up to the small room Destain had given him. Everything he had seemed to depend on his Master's desire to be generous.
Even the clothing on his back was there because Destain had claimed to feel generous. It made Mozenrath's stomach churn to remember how Destain had refused to leave the room as he had changed out of the clothing he had worn and into a dark blue shirt and black jumper with gold clasps. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he thought of how Destin had simply sat there, his eyes wandering over the young, pale body of his pupil. He still couldn't understand why one minuet Destain would stand far away from him, and the next minuet he would be standing there, stroking Mozenrath's curly hair and sniffing it hungrily.
He hated the way Destain had taken to calling him little kitten. He supposed it was because of his mother being a catling, but it didn't make sense since he was without any sort of fur or claws or cattish behavior of any sort. Mozenrath tried not to broad over it for too long, but sometimes there wasn't anything to do but broad. An intelligent child, he often found himself bored when he wasn't studying or doing an errand for Destain. He had found a small joy in the massive library that took up a good portion of the Citadel. Most of what was there was nothing but magickal text, but occasionally he would find an old storybook or historical chronicle that made for an interesting read with his imagination.
He had hoarded those books like a dragon hoarded gold and hide them under a floor board in his room. The ploy had worked for nearly three months now. Every time Destain walked over that small patch of boards his heart skipped a beat, but it was worth it.
Mozenrath walked into his room and closed the door softly behind him, taking care not to walk on the creaky planks with his boots on. Destain had sharp ears that would detect any movement in this house. He smoothed out the straw filled mattress he has stitched together himself and stuffed the clumps of wheat that had fallen back in. The bed was itchy and crude, but as long as he could get sleep in it, he was happy.
Mozenrath walked over to the boards and carefully pried them up, taking one of the leather bound books from inside and opening it to the bookmark. He smiled contentedly and settled down on his bed, searching behind his pillows for a stash of crackers and fruit juice he stole from the kitchen. Destain was always forgetting that children needed food to keep going, and so Mozenrath and taken care of it himself. He took care of almost everything that Destain 'forgot' about. He washed his own cloths, cleaned his own room, fed and bathed himself. When Destain wouldn't remember what lesson they had done the night before, Mozenrath would work twice as hard to catch up by the next morning so as not to suffer blows for not studying.
He erased that from his head. Just for a short while, he was going to ignore that the rest of the world existed and absorb himself in one of his favorite stories about a fisherman who found a genie in an old bottle. He rested his back against the rumpled corner of the wall and opened the book, munching on crackers and sipping from his juice flask.
"Why you little thief."
Mozenrath didn't waist a second when he heard Destain's voice. He dropped everything in his lap and bolted for the door, determined to out run his Master yet again. "Oh no my little kitten. Not this time." Destain's mana flow disrupted the air around Mozenrath's body and he felt his muscles cramp and seize up. He caught himself before he landed face first on the floor and tried to scoot away. Destain's power gripped hold around his legs as Mozenrath's fingernails clawed into the wood. "You foolish little child. Did you think you could hide from me in my own home?"
"Let me go! I didn't have any choice!" Mozenrath protested as he felt Destain's long nailed hand close around his shoulder blade, digging his claws in. "You would have killed me if I didn't run!" Mozenrath tried to keep his breathing steady in case he had to throw up he shield's again, but Destain's magick invaded his mouth quickly, making it impossible for his lungs to expand fully.
"Killed you?" Destain let out a low chuckle. "My dear boy, nothing on this earth could persuade me to end your life. As often as the idea tempts me." He tossed Mozenrath onto the bed and hummed gently, once again twisting the boy's limp curls around his fingers. "I may give you an occasional love tap, but what good parental substitute wouldn't?" He lifted Mozenrath's chin and didn't notice the light pink tinge coming over Mozenrath's cheeks as he tried desperately to breath. "After all, aren't I like a father to you?" he asked, fully knowing that Mozenrath couldn't answer. "Haven't I given you a roof over your head, cloths on your back? I'm providing you with an education many would die for. And this is how you show your gratitude." Destain smiled and caressed Mozenrath's cheek "You need to be punished"
Destain fumbled momentarily with his long robe, his desire for the child consuming him. It had been so long since he'd buried himself in a body so young and full of life. He could feel the power throbbing from deep inside Mozenrath and vowed to bring himself closer to it, no matter how he had to go about it. Once he was free of the tangle of clothing, Destain touched Mozenrath between the legs, cupping the child sized organ in his fingers. "So tiny. You will have years before you make it into a man's." He mocked and Mozenrath's lashed out, bringing his heel into Destain's thigh.
Mozenrath jumped and bounded off the bed the instant he heard Destain's 'oaff' at the contact. He knew what Destain was after. It all made sense now in one terrifying moment. All those lustful stared, those gentle fondles whenever he would do something correctly. It all flashed in front of his eyes like a blinding sun. He knew what Destain wanted, and he wasn't going to let him get it.
Mozenrath grabbed the door handles and pulled. To his horror, they didn't budge. He pulled again and again, desperately trying. He futile gathered his magic and flung it at the brass handles, watching as the bent and twisted, but didn't open. He threw himself into the doors and heard Destain rise from the bed. He turned around and looked into the angry face of his mentor.
"You will pay for that little kitten." Destain didn't even feign gentleness as he grabbed a handful of Mozenrath's thick ebony curls and flung him over the side of the bed. He was tall for an eight year old, and rested perfectly across the side. Destain saw him try to dodge and run again, and stopped it in the middle this time, seizing hold of the child's hips, and forcing his foul worm of a organ inside the boy' body.
Mozenrath shrieked in pain. He was untouched in this way, his muscles contracted and he felt the organ dive in, ripping his insides. He felt his skin burn back there as he was pushed deeper into, twisting the thin flesh till it hurt. The same feeling could have been gotten by shoving a knife inside again and again. At first he was dry, the violating object grating against his skin like sandpaper. But soon enough his inside's tore violently, and he began to bleed. Destain smiled to hear Mozenrath whimper as he continued with the act. Already his under senses were connecting with Mozenrath's blocking them up like a cork in a champagne bottle. He couldn't collect the magick inside Mozenrath, he couldn't even really touch it, but being so close to such a well of power! He brought his hips back and thrust in harder and harder. Mozenrath's frame jerked back and forth as he cried and bit down into his lip. Destain's hands wandered over his body. They ran over his ribs and around his spine, holding his hips and caressing down his inner thigh. There was a warped sense of contentment he got from rape. A feeling of power and control over another human beings body that filled his ego with arrogance. ~He deserves to be punished. He stole from me and ran when all I would have done was beat him!~ In his depraved mind, the excuse made sense and he allowed it to thrive. His anger grew as he thought about his 'kindness' with taking the boy in. His thrusting grew faster and harder and he delighted in Mozenrath's muffled screams.
~The boy is a prize indeed! So tight and warm, so full of power and energy.~ He gave another violent thrust as he released inside Mozenrath's body. He stayed still for a second, gathering his wits about him again and bring his breathing back under control. He would need to let Mozenrath's sleep now. Let him think about the consequences of disobeying his Master. He heard no noise from under him as he slid out from between the tightness and casually prodded Mozenrath to see if he was alive.
Mozenrath gave a subdued whine as he realized Destain was done and slowly moved himself away, using his arm strength to support himself. He knew the thick wetness sliding down his legs and over his thighs was blood. He could smell the metallic tint of it in the air. His legs felt like jelly as he moved them. Tears made his face feel dry and dirty, sticks of straw stuck out of the corner of his mouth. His hair was in tangles and he hurt wherever Destain had touched him. ~Let it be over. Just let it be over.~ He begged anyone listening as he watched his Master rise from the bed and dress himself.
"Now you know what happens when you anger me Mozenrath." Destain said in a low, even voice. "Just remember, you brought this on yourself. Perhaps next time when I give you a job to do, you'll do it correctly." Destain finished arranging his robe and turned back around. "Now get yourself cleaned up. I will make sure that food is brought to you." And with those words he left.
Mozenrath didn't move for a long time. He just crawled back into the darkest corner he could find, pressed his chin to his knees, and wept. He didn't know what else to do. His body didn't feel like it could move and he was didn't want to try for fear of tearing himself further. A breeze issued forth from the open window in his room and ruffled his hair, making his burning skin feel a little better. He still felt dirty and everything bellow his waist was sticky. The practical part of his mind took over and he stood up using the wall.
His clothing lay on a rumpled heap by the bed, but he wasn't going to put them back on yet. He needed to bath first, get this filthy feeling off him. Despite the crumbled state of everything else in this so called kingdom, the Citadel still had running water. Mozenrath poured the small tub full of bath water and slowly lowered himself into the tub. The heat stung at first, but soon it began to sooth his pain. He sat there numbly for a while, not thinking or doing anything. He reached behind his back and touched the orifice Destain and pushed into. Dried blood flaked off and surfaced in the water. Mozenrath looked at it and pulled a washcloth out of a cabinet, cleaning himself.
He didn't know where the rage came from. He didn't want to know. But when the pure anger raced through his veins, cursing Destain and what he'd done. Mozenrath didn't question it. It felt GOOD to be angry at someone! At anyone! It was his mother's fault for leaving him with that disgusting shell of a human being! It was the shadow's fault for making him tired and unable to concentrate!
And Destain!
Destain was a whole new feeling of hatred.