by StarWolf
8/28/2005
Title: Deidov
Author: StarWolf (elendraug at yahoo dot com)
Fandom: Galerians
Rating: R
Genre: Horror, I think.
Pairing: Parano x Rion ish.
Warnings: Kinda slashy, A/Uish, gore, violence...the usual. X3;
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Distribution: No archiving, please.
Summary: The picture fades, the light recedes; the sound is lost in whispers.
Author's Notes: For spankjar and the galeriansslash LJ challenge -- "stockholm syndrome." Inspired by VNV Nation's "Homeward," which is quoted in the summary.
"Get the fuck off me!"
Yellow walls and dirty tiles fade to a forever-blankness that makes Rion's eyes ache. With two knives pressed to his throat, he's no option but to cooperate. Parano's taken him to the manifestation of a delete key, and Rion feels like his ribcage is about to collapse upon itself. Struggling, kicking, elbowing -- useless. In an instant, his back is aflame with the slicing agony of angry blades. With an amused smirk, the lieutenant lets him crumple to the supposed-floor in a pile of cloth and clotting.
.:.
On the third day, Rion tried to walk away.
From afar, it must've looked like a talentless mime injuring himself with his own trick; in every direction, an seemingly nonexistent wall of denial, each attempt another harsh blow to his forehead. He quickly tired of agitating his everpresent headache, and resigned himself to sitting and waiting.
Parano cut him up anyway.
.:.
He lifts his gaze to the empty space above him -- it's pretending to be a ceiling. Just before he sleeps and dreams of having nightmares, he watches his artificial memories play out on the impromptu projector: a swingset, kitchen sink, a magicless 8 ball.
"Metamorphosis."
Fetal position is suitable enough; tattered shirtsleeves can't keep him warm.
.:.
The visits were few and nothing new.
Each time Parano checked on him, he'd steal an article of clothing. First went his shirt, though it hadn't been helpful, anyway. Its material had been embedded into the healing layers of Rion's skin, however, and its removal tore out scabs, leaving him waiting and bleeding.
His pants hurt more, but not directly; it'd been too difficult to get him to hold still, so Parano drove a knife through the webbing between his thumb and index finger. From that point, he couldn't pick anything up.
This made it tough to re-tie his shoes, but he didn't keep them for much longer, either. Socks (feet raw from blisters), bracelets (yanked off his wrists), thumbring (nearly dislocated his knuckle), earring (shredded his lobe to pieces). Parano's boots stomped loudly as he strode off.
Rion listened to the clack click noises and wondered why he hadn't starved yet.
.:.
Even now, Rion still has the leather (redxfromxbloodxnotxpigment) collar.
.:.
He'd lost count of revolutions-per-minute by the time Lilia found him again. Interspersed with static, her voice wavered while it reached his mind.
"Rion! Oh, thank god, you're still--"
"Lilia."
"Yes, Rion? It won't take much time at all, I can have you here within a minute or two--"
"I'm not going back."
"What! What are you talking about, Rion? You can't possibly stay there, you'll be killed! It's not safe at all, what on earth--"
She kept begging him for hours before he stopped paying attention.
.:.
Rion's naked and cold when Parano wanders by again. Sneering cruelly, he walks circles around the invisible cage for what seems like an eternity.
The only friends Rion's made are an infinity of white and the flickerpictures hiding behind his eyelids; he tries to talk with the occasional shadow, but Parano's looms just out of reach.
.:.
He started biting his nails within the first few moments of his confinement.
After a while, he ran out of suitable fingers to gnaw on.
.:.
The next time it happens, he's not willing to lose his chance. He's previously risked worse than severe pain; this cause is worth its effects. With his remaining strength, he sends a wave of desperation crashing through the forcefield and runs on unstable bare feet towards his captor. It's impossible to catch him off-guard; the first time Rion tries to touch him, a jolt of power flings him into a trembling heap of tangled broken limbs and unnaturally twisted spine.
try try again
Another lunge; he's braced himself for it this time, but it doesn't make the electrocution hurt less. Twitching involuntarily, he shakily presses his cheek to Parano's chest, curls his arms around his waist, and thinks, alone no longer.
The air smells like burning meat.
Despite the constant anguish of metal sinking into his flesh ( again again again squelch blood ), he draws ragged breath and holds on tighter. Existence dwindling, he chokes out his first words in weeks, the sentence stuttering with shocks.
"D-don't let m-me g-g-go--"