The Knight Captain was not a happy creature.

Was that because she was being whipped for her failure to capture her quarry? Not particularly.

The pain wasn't that interesting. One could even call it boring, so much so that she'd lost track of how many days they'd chained her down there, whipping her for hours on end. Sure, having her back flensed to ribbons wasn't fun, but they could've at least forced her to wear something, having the wounds dry and stick to the cloth would make for sublime anguish when torn off. But no, they seemed perfectly happy leaving her naked in the dungeon.

Perhaps her displeasure came from the fact she'd failed— no, she wasn't mad about that. On the contrary, she was elated. Seeing them escape, and by the skin of their teeth as well… it was absolutely grand! Such drama!Even she hadn't expected them to just fall through that unstable gate. She thought constantly of their expressions in that final fraction of a moment, the sheer terror, the gut-dropping hopelessness, the magnitude of lost will as she appeared within murdering distance— gods was it satisfying. And with their escape, it meant she would be able to see them again! Only this time, the events would unfurl to their greatest crescendo: a symphony of cries, notes tuned by the strangle of her fingers around their necks. She drank of that image; it was finer than any wine.

So why wasshe unhappy? If it wasn't the whipping, or the imprisonment, or the failure itself, what could it possibly be?

Jacques. It was Jacques.

Pyrrha hated Jacques, which she found odd. The Knight Captain generally didn't hate anybody— her desire to indiscriminately rend flesh and drink marrow wasn't a matter of hatred— she just regarded humanity (and the shim, of course) in the same way one would consider a lame horse. Or perhaps a particularly supple pig, because apparently others found it disturbing when she ate their broken steeds.

But Jacques? Ohoho, no. Jacques was no horse, he was no pig— not in the respectable sense, at least, but he certainly leered at her like one, especially now as he watched her whipping session. Jacques was a worm. A slug. A rat, a snake, a cockroach— all the worst creatures this realm could conjure— stuffed into the leathery skin of a sour-faced cunt, and with even less honor than its counterparts.

And here he was, 'overseeing' her torture yet again, ogling her vessel's chest like his own pregnant wife simply didn't exist. She hoped he would try to cop a handful, just so she could bite his fucking hand off— fuck the contract, she was a fucking god— but he seemed to realize that, too, and merely watched from the room's corner like a cuckold.

"Please let me go to the Shimmer," she requested, tone formal so he wouldn't get the impression that she was affected by the torture. Even as the whip slipped through her skin, she maintained a passive expression. "Regardless of my failure, that group is powerful and volatile; I am the only one who can defeat them."

Jacques sneered. "Is that so? Why didn't you, then?"

"Their shim gated them away."

Jacques raised one brow, unimpressed. "And why did you let it?"

Pyrrha scowled. The whip made strips of her flesh. "They disrespected you, milord. I was trying to assert your authority when your daughter froze me— they had drawn on the Emerald Forest's latent energies, and the Huntsman you hired betrayed me."

Jacques scoffed. "He's a Branwen, did you expect any different?"

"He's her uncle."

The whip faltered, its wielder stuttering in his swing and smacking it ineffectually against her eviscerated spine. Shame, she was beginning to appreciate its tempo.

"Who?" Jacques asked after a long while, his features twisted tightly.

"Qrow Branwen, he's the little girl's uncle."

"What little girl?"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly went blind. "The one that fucked your daughter, milord."

Jacques stomped over to the torturer, yanked the weapon out of his hands, and marched back around to the Knight Captain's front. He lashed Pyrrha across her face, cutting a sickening line from chin to brow and slicing directly across her left eye. That did actually hurt, but she bit her lip to keep the yelp in. She had plenty more eyes to spare.

"Disrespectful sow," Jacques grumbled, throwing the whip back at her torturer so he could continue flaying her spine. "That is a lad, you stupid whore."

"I'm afraid not, milord. Her name is Ruby."

"Do you need me to whip you again?"

"Mayhaps, milord," she stared at him with one good eye, "I am yet blind to the truth."

Jacques did not whip her again, rather, he moved to strike her with an open hand before something stopped him. Whether it was some benevolent epiphany or the realization that she would feast on his fingers, she couldn't tell.

He stared her down, his stupid mustache twitching. "You said… Ruby?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Yes, milord. Her mother's name was Summer, and her sister is a Huntress by the name of Yang."

Neither of those names struck with Jacques, either that or he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to listen. "Ruby… I swear, I've heard that name before."

Pyrrha cocked her head, casting off a long drip of blood and tears as she did. If he already knew her name, why would he—

"Oh, aye! I've 'eard Penny talkin' about 'er! Everyone 'as!" The torturer— just a guard given a whip, actually, and not even one Pyrrha recognized— blurted, before realizing he was out of turn. "Er… apologies, milord."

Jacques waved him off. "You said it was Penny who spoke of her? Lady Polendina?"

"Ser Polendina, milord," came the automatic correction from both the guard and Pyrrha.

Jacques growled, one finger shooting out to freeze Pyrrha's lips together. "Do you know Lady Polendina well, boy?"

Pyrrha's correction was muffled behind her own frozen mouth, and the guard didn't have the balls to make another one aloud. "N-no, milord," he stuttered, looking warily at the woman he'd had a large part in torturing. "I don' leave the grounds much, I only over'eard it when she visi'ed a few weeks ago. She was spoutin' up and down about 'er incredible sword, talkin' up that Ruby lass, 'parently she's the smith 'at forged 'er blade. 'At's all I 'eard, though."

Jacques scowled, then dismissively flapped his hand at the guard. "You're useless, leave us."

And he did, as quickly as his legs could carry him. His boots gradually grew distant, and the distant echo of a heavy door heralded his exit from the dungeons.

Jacques sighed deeply, waving one hand at Pyrrha to dispel her icy muzzle. "I imagine you know Lady Penny quite well, being her superior?"

She certainly didn't, but if she could get what she wanted by lying to him, she'd do it with a smile. As such, she buried her corrections and bowed her head. "Of course, milord."

"Then you'll interrogate her. Find the girl— the boy, or his family," Jacques commanded, his voice suddenly tired, "I'm sure you can figure out what to do from there."

Pyrrha dipped her head, mainly to hide her grin. Her mind flitted deviously to their contract. "Yes, milord."

"I'll send someone to unshackle you; I'm headed to the Shimmer."

Pyrrha actually felt her chest sink. "You're going to search for her? Er, him?"

Jacques turned to her, brow furrowed and lips thinned like she was an idiot. "Of course not; I suspect the Taurus is on the verge of a conniption, and I don't intend to miss it."

Pyrrha blinked. That was a name she'd heard more and more frequently as of late, but she didn't want to push her luck at the moment. "Understood, milord. Watcher keep you."

Jacques rolled his eyes and stepped out of the room, not bothering to return the courtesy as the heavy door closed behind him.

Pyrrha breathed deep, and laughed. She was locked back into what should be abject darkness, if not for the heliotrope glow that climbed off her skin and crawled over the walls, painting the room a writhing purple. The bones of her hands and wrists collapsed, slipping her arms from their restraints before she restored them, then wrapped around her metal collar to smoothly rip it from her neck. She stretched, unfurling all six wings from her soul and filling the room with an eye-watering indigo.

When the guard returned, he opened the door to find himself greeted by the stifling folds of her membranous wings. Soon, a new pair of eyes would adorn them.

A/N: wooo pyrrha! and cuck!jacques! everybodys fav characters! sorry this ones kinda short, but the next one will be a bit short too. such is the nature of interlude chapters ig, this is the first of 3 btw. next one is downright pathetic lol. as always, thanks for reading, see ya next time!