[Action, forward dated to after the shadow event]

[sternefacade]

[He was in trouble. He knew it. There was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't run, he couldn't hide, and he could never disobey.

So he waited for her. He waited for her to call, and he waited for her to punish him.]




((OOC: This is for Grace and Brera only. WARNING. This will be... oh god I don't even know. It's going to be intense, there's going to be physical and psychological torture involved, and it's not going to be pretty.))

Comments

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

I should hope so.

[She just continues to press against his back.]

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[It's still not the worst pain he's ever felt, but it's enough to illicit an involuntary groan, just loud enough to hear.

He's starting to have some trouble keeping himself up. His arms are shaking a bit.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She lifts her foot off his back, just for a second, before slamming it back.

It wasn't like it would do serious injury, nothing that couldn't be repaired.] What hurts more, this or the fact that Ranka doesn't trust? That she probably hates you?

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He jerks downward when the foot comes back down, but manages to stay upright.

The answer... would be the latter, definitely, but his teeth are too tightly clenched together to really respond except with another grunt.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

I didn't hear you.

[She puts all her weight on that foot, as she leans forward.]

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[Augh damn. His eyes squeeze shut and he manages to growl out a single word.]

Ranka.

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[Even though he can't see her, Grace smirks and only says one sentence,]

Collapse, Brera.

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[His arms give way and his chest and the side of his head hit the floor as he lets out a grunt.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She moves her foot off him, moving away--looking for something in the room.]

Stay down there. You look better that way.

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He doesn't move, he just lays there and catches his breath.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She looked through the numerous instruments, looking for something that would heighten the pain...]

Bang your head against the floor.

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He lifts his head up and releases it, landing with a thud on the floor.

He does it again

And again.

And again.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She smiles to herself as she finds what she's looking for, a scalpel. With this in hand she walks towards him again.]

You may stop. Turn over onto your back.

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[With a bit of effort he manages to roll over so that he faces upward, his back to the floor. He watches her warily, blood trickling down from his quickly bruising temple.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She lifted the scalpel, letting the light flash off it.]

Are you ready?

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He eyes the scalpel before making a quick nod. Ready or not, it would happen either way. Might as well get everything over with.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

Be still.

[She got on her knees (ah, if it had been a proper setting she would have been worried about her skirt; what would the point be now?) next to him. She placed the scalpel on his shoulder, lightly pressing on the blade (not enough to slice deep but enough to inflict a shallow cut).]

I had to create an elaborate history for myself and you to keep our plans a secret. I don't think you realize how many loose ends you left me...

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He was ready for it, so he manages not to flinch at that first cut. He'll have to concentrate to keep still like she ordered.

He'd respond to what she says, but it's past the time for apologies, and excuses are irrelevant.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

I would prefer not to do this, you know.

[She speaks in a conversational tone, not really sounding excited. It's light, even as she moves the blade of the scalpel down his shoulder; slicing his clothes and skin with ease.] I don't think those idiots would realize that those goddamn bugs can't do this kind of delicate work, but, ah, what can you do?

[When she speaks of the Vajra, her tone changes slightly. Not much but...it's flatter. As if she's trying to use emotion that had long ago left her.]

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He shuts his eyes and lets out a soft hiss as the scalpel moves. He's only half listening to what she's saying, concentrating more on not moving and not letting the pain overcome him too much.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

Eyes open, now.

[She removed the scalpel from where it was slicing into his arm. She moved it to just above his nose; the fresh blood hadn't yet begun clotting.]

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He opens his eyes and goes a bit crosseyed as he watches it hover above his face. Every instinct in him is screaming at him to run, but her command roots him in place, keeping him still.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[She smiles as he opens his eyes; she moves the scalpel away from his face.]

Sit up. Take the scalpel, press it to the back of your other arm. [Brief pause.] With every cut, just think of Ranka. How she hates you, how much you want-need her; the pain doesn't matter. Think of that.

[sternefacade.livejournal.com]

[He lifts himself up, still managing the pain enough not to wince or cry out. When he takes the scalpel, though, he wants to hesitate. He wants to keep himself from doing it. But Grace's commands are immutable law. He cannot disobey.

So as soon as he takes the scalpel he puts it to his arm and presses down, sharply inhaling at the pain, but more at the thought of Ranka.

Ranka.

He is so worthless, such a failure, so pathetic as to not even do his simple duty and gain her trust. Instead he failed miserably and gained her hatred instead.

He is so pathetic that even though she clearly hates him, he can't possibly live without her.

Every time he cuts, he cuts even deeper, so ashamed at himself for his vile inadequacy.]

[implantsgrace.livejournal.com]

[While she could care less about his feelings, the way he goes at it is...slightly problematic. Too deep and he'd die, or at least cause enough issues that he would almost.

That-that, would be problematic.]

Stop.