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Spirits Bearing Rule

I arise today

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'I want to know…'

Syuveil pulled the scalpel across skin, quick and without looking, before he could look, and see what he had done.

'I need to know…need to know how you died…'

The subject –human! he thought savagely – gave a short gasp, more reaction that pain and Syu bit his lip so deeply that he tasted blood and choked back bile, and felt a sharp slice where a knife had once fallen.

'I died because…'

"Finish it." Dry and dusty, the voice came in imperial command regardless. He dared not look behind, over his shoulder at the speaker, because there was a frail hand on his back, slipping up and down his spine.

"I…I-ca-!" Red welled up along the slice and drooled down the ribs and stomach of the slight youth, heartsink eyes lolling in bright despair to Syuveil, who stepped back, stepped into the maddeningly fierce hold that kept him close and a spidery hand on his wrist, grinding and crushing bone as Faust crooned into his ear-

"I want you to touch his heart, I want you to feel him die…"

The magician's hand guided his own, forcing fingers across hot blood and feverish skin.

"You wanted to know where life goes." Lips brushed his ear as the Wingly whispered spellthoughts, and Syuveil gritted his teeth and shuddered, weak against the gripping hand, snapping his head back and forth to clear the sudden…fuzzy detachment he felt and raged against.

"I- NO-!"

'I died because you…'

A blade fell, quicksilver flashing down, down, down into meat and bone and a shackled body arched upward from the broad table, slamming back without a sound but for the scream that tore up from Syu's throat –'I died because you killed me!'- And warmth spattered across his face in a quick arterial gush. A spasm wracked through him, unbelieving and crying-

'I killed him I killed him I killed him I KILLED-!'

He raved, wretched himself from the body, the madman that held him to it, his palms slapping hard against stone to leave a red, smeared print before the toe of a boot caught his shoulder and flipped the lean man to his side and another kick rolled him till his back slid against floor and blood. The smell was wet and coppery, and he knew life poured from the slave surely as it had once from him, beautifully red and the end of it all.

"I hate you! I HATE you, you BASTARD I HATE YOU!"

Something sharp and bright came to rest under his chin, drawing the faintest trickle more into the open. Faust behind it, a snarl behind the wiry beard and blood-drop eyes faded into a mass of wrinkles- glaring at, into and pinning him where he lay just as easily as the scalpel did.

"Feed it to the Jiango, and mop up this filth- I want it ready for the next one."

Gone. Without a parting glance or the life he'd just-

'You did it'

-ended. The scar, there on his chest, throbbing in blood memory as he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped long arms around them, resting his head there.

'Darkness spread out on the tip of nothing…'

That's where we go, he thought numbly, looking to the corpse on the dissection table.

Syuveil stared at the gore-streaked stones beneath him, pale bangs slipping into his eyes, dragging a limping gaze to the cold stone walls and the cold stone chamber.

"I don't want to go where there is nothing…"

…..

He hung in chains, waiting.

There is nothing to do but wait, wait to fight, wait to bleed, wait to die, here. Here, there is a certain cold comfort. This place was dark and lonely, and stank of blood, piss and fear.

But sometimes he remembered…

Somewhere, there was the slash of the tide and howl of winds.

Somewhere, he still walked the beach where the sky and water met and felt a small bit of peace worm into his heart.

Hallways dripping with water and smelling of rotted meat. He was pulled and dragged, slashing and kicking, and thrown into a heap of mite-infested straw and there he could scream and scream and no one would ever care…

Here. He waits in chains, falling in and out of memory.

Here, sliding bugs squirm and nest in the walls, under moss that layers everything, drop into his hair and crawl over his body until he wants to scream.

Thirst claws at his throat until he gags at the thought of water, cinders sparking at every swallow. Crimson pain there, where ligaments in his shoulders stretch and sizzle. Hips, back, legs, neck, head: all screaming scarlet. There are quick flashes of black, too… and there is when he remembers.

He came for their blood and left with their lives, and put their souls in those twisted little figures in his dark little cell.

Blood is a gleaming addiction, ruby sequins at the tip of steel. And therein lay his mistake. But he'll make it again…

"This one again, hn?"

A pause broke his dream state.

"-said they were thinkin' of naming this cell after him." The voice lilted, accented.

Lips lifted in a quick, involuntary snarl.

Wingly.

A laugh thereafter, and the whine of un-oiled hinges brought a slight… twitch of anticipation.

Footsteps cross dirty straw, and he smelled mead and…

Water poured down over his bound form in liquid cold - sluicing away a layer of dirt and blood, plastered strings of uncut auburn hair over his face.

"Rise and shine, human."

Strong fingers laced through his hair and snapped his head up, the other hand coming around to smack him - HARD - in the face, once, twice and the last was a straight punch that he SWORE cracked bone.

And then - Kanzas opened his eyes.

The cell was the same reeking and damp hell it always was; insects scuttled away from the passing guards, the dirt floor riddled with worm-holes and filthy straw - and the crimson-eyed bastards themselves?

Splitting up on either side of the captive human, they reached above - Kanzas braced himself - and yanked the pins that held his chains to the wall. Not having held his weight in days (hell… had it been that LONG?) his legs gave out and left him flat on the floor.

Bastards. Murderers.

-slash of tides, howl of winds.

So tired of waiting…

He breathed, blowing bits of straw from his lips.

"Heh, kissing the ground you walked on, heh? Hadrek?"

The first Wingly laughed, reaching down and yanking on the chains that wrapped Kanzas' wrists. "Up, and move lightly. You wouldn't want to miss your big chance outta here."

The auburn-haired human didn't so much as twitch, trying to remember just why he was being taken where…?

"Unless he likes it here, heh? Do you, human?"

Just his luck, getting stuck with the brightwits.

Jabbering pointlessly, the one called Hadrek motioned to Kanzas. "Might be staying here, unless someone wants to pay for a three-time loser."

The second scoffed, heading to the door and waiting there. "Not damn likely."

Kanzas snorted, painfully inching to his feet, and breathing a sigh of short relief when his legs quivered… but held.

Oh… 'not damn likely' was right… just not in the sense they meant.

It's all that matters.

"I'm coming," he whispered softly. The chains at his wrists bit into skin as they were pulled roughly, but Kanzas. Didn't. Budge.

"Come on and move, you son of a bitch!" the guard snarled, pivoting on heel at the cell door to glare at the unmoving man.

Who was, he saw, looking at him - HIM-! - with a particular… smile… on his weathered face.

The guard felt a quick moment of unease before raising a hand to point and- "You…"

"This son of a bitch," Kanzas said distinctly, "spits on your ancestor's grave."

Hadrek lunged, fists leading to wipe that smirk from Kanzas' face. With a pained sigh, Kanzas just collapsed backward before the other's rush, falling to his back - grasping the guard's wrists lightly while kicking a foot into the pit of his stomach. The human rolled, kicking hard - and the Wingly slammed into the packed dirt.

Kanzas threw his weight backward and came to his knees, straddled atop the gasping Wingly. "You died," he bent down and whispered in the Wingly's ear, "because I killed you."

"Get… OFF-!"

"HADREK-!"

Kanzas snarled, grabbing a fistful of platinum hair in one hand and the other driving knuckles deep into the soft throat and listening for that rattled whine, watching crimson eyes fade to washed out blood, wishing he had a blade and wishing there was blood staining his hands. He tossed the first aside, spinning as he rose to face the second, who was suddenly-

-not there.

"Shit-!"

But right behind him…

The snap/crackle of magic was the only warning Kanzas had to dive, hit the ground and flail to his feet.

"Bastard." The remaining Wingly flashed out a hand, strikes in thin air that razored across Kanzas' starved form in animal strokes. Kanzas howled, curled in upon himself on the ground, and felt his mind wracked with night terrors that fucking froze him cold…

"Not… yet…" he ground out, gritting teeth. Falling. Reaching. Darkness rose in his vision.

"This one-" The voice above was hateful and raging. "You're going to Faust."

Fade.

…..