Warnings for this chapter: Mild mentions of torture, nothing explicit. Cussing.
Also, kinda Loviatar centered chapter.
"Fuck you"
She had laughed, full and loud even as she plunged the kinfe into him once more. She had heard those words a thousand times, and while they ceased to hurt her feelings they caused her mind to stray to other places... She bit her lip and grinned down at her little Ukko.
"Not until the honeymoon!" She had tutted gently as she poked her finger into one of his wounds and twisted.
He let out a cry of pain and her heart skipped a beat. Oh how she loved the little sounds they made, whether it was a little groan or a scream of anguish she took full pleasure in every sound they made.
yet she could not fully lose herself in the dance of cutting and twisting as she had before. There was a heavy weight in her mind, one of deep betrayal... Tamalia had come down to see him before it was time, and what was worse was the absence of documentation of this. She had checked over all the tapes, and not one had her going down and speaking to him. This worried her. Tamalia had become more and more rebellious, even daring to refuse to name a man a god. Loviatar had put her in her place swiftly, bit it seems that it was not enough.
Loviatar had come to terms with the fact that if Tamalia became a liability, she would do what was best and kill her. She had done that to Brie Adams, the previous teller. She had shown doubt, and had threatened to go to the cops. So she had poisoned her food and burned her body, as per tradition. She would rather not go through all the trouble of finding another teller, but it seemed necessary.
Absently she made another cut, plunging it a little deeper than she intended.
She would kill her tonight, after she had come back from her little outing. SHe had begged and pleaded for a moment to go outside and live. Loviatar had agreed reluctantly, and given her $10 so she could go to the mall, but she had her heavily guarded with the strongest and most capable men of the tribe. Tamalia would not get away easily, that was sure.
SHe glanced down at the body on the table, he had finally given into unconsciousness. Too bad, she would have liked to actually start this thing. His tank top was gone, exposing his bloodied slashed up mess of a chest. A long diagonal cut, the deepest of them all, ran from his left shoulder-blade to his lower ribs. Smaller, shallower cuts that bled almost as much. She had gone a little wild, and would definitely need to patch him up herself or he would bleed to death. Running upstairs she grabbed gauze and a hair tie, before going back down.
She cleaned him up to the best of her ability and wrapped his wounds tightly, before dragging him over to the bed. She wiped down the table she had him strapped to and folded it up and putting it away. She left gauze by his bed and made her way upstairs to ready her daughters funeral.
it's too bad, she thought, she was useful.
sorry this is so short, been a little sick lately.