Greek (Inked, cont.): Harm warning, because Cesar is going to mess Gino up a little. Mim blood, skin, yeah.

All the good things belong to MonolithSoft, and doesn't Gino just wish Cesar had taken him to Yardley instead.

Gino watched as Cesar worked. He had stopped screaming a while back, not that it had disturbed her. It hadn't really disturbed him. He'd screamed plenty these past years, from explosions or grief, but it was a new thing, hearing his screams from the outside. He was pleased to note that his cries were throaty and much deeper than he would have guessed. From inside his head, they always sounded whiny.

But then something tore in his throat and only rasping was left, and Gino ignored that. He could now hear what Cesar was muttering under her breath. Something like "swoop loop cross overloop", which would have made no sense except Gino could match it with the marks she was painting on his legs. His skin absorbed the ink immediately, leaving the shadow of organic patterns that reminded him of Nopon decorations, leaves and ferns and snail shells. She was careful not to let the fat brush drip as she connected one wide line to another. She coated his legs from ankle to mid thigh. That last part should have tickled, just like she'd warned him, but he couldn't feel it.

He couldn't feel anything, and he shouldn't have been able to see what she was doing. His face was pressed into the tarp, after all. But here he was, hovering a few meters over her shoulder. When the first blast of pain cut through his skin, he'd naturally tried to get up off the floor and stop the process, but something that was not gravity was drawing him down. It wasn't sleep, although he realized the bitter stuff she'd fed him must have dulled his mind. That wasn't it. Something was helping her hold his body still, but it didn't have a grip on his self, and so his self had sensibly removed itself from his body and was watching at a safe distance.

Cesar set aside the larger brush and picked up a metal stylus, tipped with a metal needle, gently bent. She paused to activate her comm device and a recording of her voice played in the room. A string of words, nonsense that Gino guessed was Greek or possibly a sleepy kind of Spanish, spoken slowly and repeated after a pause. She nodded after the first set and dug into Gino's leg with the tool. A few beads of blue mimeosome fluid showed against the black ink paths. She was writing those words, definitely Greek letters but not exclusively, into his skin, sometimes along the ink marks, sometimes across them.

"You promised no needles," Gino thought calmly. Any anger must still be stuck in his body, which was twitching in reaction. He was calm and beyond the physical self, but he still felt irritated. He'd do something to bug her, ruin her experiment. He looked at the tip of the stylus, wet with what should belong only to him. He pushed at it without hands, without arms, extending his repulsion to the metal.

The stylus skidded across the back of his leg, crossing out the bulk of what she'd written. She froze for a long moment, until a groan of horror escaped her gritted teeth. "God dammit, it's ... ugh!"

Gino's body was whimpering, but Gino's soul was very pleased.

a/n: Probably need to bump this up to T. Gino will be fine!

Next up: This story is going to go on for a bit. Pause, which I can cheese. Not sure about Day 10, Pony.