rogueinladysclothing | [Duplicity] IC Inbox

[Chris glances to her and shakes his head as he concentrates on pulling the energy to him he needs.]

Just the one, I think, tonight. He took a sick joy in hurting Jon, Jacob Prince. I don't want it done quick either. Matron forgive me, I want him to linger in knowing his end is coming and there's nothing he can do but weather it.

[Just as he'd done to Chris and his partner for the better part of an hour. Just as he'd done for far too long to Jon even after the other one had taken Chris away to humiliate him and degrade him. Chris had felt every cruelty done to his Archivist in that time. The whippings, the branding, the waxing, when they'd cruely shoved something into him without an ounce of preparation. He hadn't felt the shaving he'd done of Jon's pretty hair, but it had seemed to linger with his love longer than any of the rapidly healed hurts. And Chris wanted to make the man responsible know all of that and more.]

I want his blood and suffering.

[He casts Locate Person with the man's cruel sneer in mind. Chris had front row view of his face, held across from him the whole time, and it serves him now as his spell pings some 200 feet away.]

North by Northeast, a couple hundred feet. You're welcome to do anything you feel like.

She nods as she listens, taking in every detail and listening to all of Chris' wants without judgment. The want to torture the man is understandable, and Amelia's got several on her own list that will require such attention when it's her turn to choose a target.

But tonight? Tonight is for anything and everything the cleric desires. She'll make sure of it.

Her lips are pressed into a thin line as she considers what to visit upon the vile creature they're after tonight, but there's a visible darkness and delight in her eyes. "I want to make him doubt his own mind before we get too close. Make others tell him he's crazy or that he's seeing things in the shadows. If we push him into a crowd for a few minutes, I can really dig into him before we draw him someplace more quiet."

Whispers from all around him, mocking him and calling out his misdeeds. A flash of a knife and blood and the face of what will be his death staring him down as the crowd around him begins to whisper that he's lost his mind. A few grabs at his person, a clip across his ear or face with a well aimed rock, and he'll be an anxious mess by the time she's ready to release him to more physical pains.

Looking up at Chris, the corner of her lips pull up into a smirk. "What say you? Are you willing for a little show as part of all this? I'd gladly take your help if you can touch his mind while I work."

Chris' grin turns sharp with that feral note of his already settling in it.

"Oh...happily. As we go, my lady." He leads them on towards their target, the gentle pulse of his spell guiding them through to the market square he's visiting. He looks so small now, out of his element and comfortable with his own safety. It makes Chris want to destroy him all the more.

"Some tricks, then....to start." He mutters a word quiet enough for only them that roughly translates out to 'bells' and the dolorous clang of Toll the Dead begins in his target's head with mounting urgency. A necrotic, haunting, headache that only he could hear. He doesn't need to glance her way to know Amelia was already off to see her talents in play and Chris kept a vigilant eye on the crowd for any signs.

She doesn't need him to tell her who the target is before she makes her way into the crowd. She hears the cleric speak, and the sudden doubling over of one Jacob Prince is all she needs to see.

It's time to start her work.

Her weaves through the crowd are flawless, easily missed by untrained eyes. Each pass in one direction includes a touch to their prey's body - his shoulder, his waist, his hair, his hand - before Amelia gives him any peace. He's already beginning to spin in circles as he asks who's doing that and if others are hearing the bells. He gets pity and confusion from those around him, and that's when she begins a true strike.

A soft voice carries on the wind. "That's him. That's the man."

Jacob turns sharply to look over his left shoulder. Stopping in the middle of the crowd to spy who's talking about him. Or to him? It's not clear what's going on.

A low, gruff voice continues. "He's got a heavy hand. Did you see the state of them when they left Realignment?"

He's trembling now, hands searching out something to defend himself with from his pockets. To his surprise, the pocket knife he usually carries is gone. So is his device.

Another voice speaks, and finally tells him his crime. "I heard he tortured The Archivist for hours after he went catatonic."

Enraged and wanting to prove his own dominance, Jacob turns to the tall man walking beside him and shouts of his innocence, about how that damn Archivist should have just done as he was told. How everything would've been different if he'd been a real Dom to his Sub.

The crowd around him retreats, save for one figure who passes behind him, unknowable and just out of sight.

"You'll pay for your crimes," she whispers. "Death comes for you."

Jacob panics, breathing heavily as onlookers begin to question his mental well-being as he backs into them and swings about wildly, looking for his assailant.

Just as she wanted. She hopes Chris approves.

Chris watches, gaze passive as the man suffers. Good. It wasn't nearly all he deserved, but it was a good step. The look of confusion and desperation mixed with the pain as Chris reapplied the bells no one could hear. He wants more.

The man's frantic gaze falls on Chris, stone still in the throng of those around them and recognition rattles through him. "Hey! You! Submissive! Whatever the fuck you're doing, I command you to stop! I'll...I'll have you arrested!" There's a vein in his neck Chris can see a little more clearly now as it bulges lightly from his skin.

The cleric smiles serenely and turns to head down an alleyway with every expectation he'd likely be followed with arrogance and threats.

The crowd's starting to get restless around Jacob, murmuring becoming the occasional shout of "Are you sure you're okay? and "Take it home, buddy!" Incensed, he stomps his way out of the crowd, shoving people out of the way when they try to stop him.

A familiar voice whispers next to his ear, appearing as if out of thin air. "Do it. I dare you to try. I want to see you fail."

The man screams in frustration, pushing his way past the last few people to make for the alley Chris disappeared into. Amelia's already waiting for him in a shadowed corner, feet silent until he's a few yards in. By then, it's too late, and he realizes it when he turns around and finds the rogue blocking off any possible escape.

"Arrogance gets you nowhere," she chides, tone sickly sweet and dark. Her grin is wicked in all the right ways. "Except to the top of my list." She huffs a laugh. "Our list."

Her eyes flick behind their prey, lips parted it utter delight. There's no blood in the air yet, but this man is so close to it. He'll realize the truth of that soon enough. A low, dark laugh builds in her, spilling out into a cackle of delight at the end.

"Run, you piece of shit. At least make this interesting for us."

Chris is there when Amelia nods to him and the man turns. He's pulled the shadows of the alley closer and made his eyes black as voids as his wings stretch out to fill the alley wall to wall. The smile he offers is sharp and feral as Chris takes his hands from his pockets.

"Run...or beg, you worthless filth. Beg for a mercy you don't deserve and we'll see who's the better man."

There's a flash of hatred in Jacob's eyes and Chris can see how he seems to gather himself up and storm towards Chris even as the cleric doesn't move. "I don't beg to uppity subs, especially monster-fuckers like you. I bet you jerk it to him being a fucking little freak. He deserved it."

Chris' smile seems to flicker wider, unnaturally so and he cocks his head to the side. A single hand reaches slowly out towards the guard and there's a flicker of uncertain fear in the man's eyes Chris cherishes. Jacob's hand makes for the power nullifier under his jacket and at his hip and Chris doesn't pause in his movement, confident his accomplice would make short work of the man's pathetic comforts.

"Wrong answer."

Jacob moves, and it's not fast enough. Amelia's blades are at the ready, one across the top of his wrist and another across his cheek as she darts around him and then back again. All the man can do is howl in pain and hunch over, hands gripping at the cuts she's left behind. It leaves him open for the rogue to disarm and rob him, his depowering device and phone on the ground in front of him before he can blink.

"You won't be needing those anymore."

She forces him forward a step, down onto his device with a short jab with the tip of a knife between his ribs. He cries out again, trying to whirl around to see her, his feet finding only his weapon against people like Chris and Jon and Wolfe to destroy it. Unable to call for help, to prevent magic from being used against him, he tries to grab for Amelia. She laughs at the attempt, letting him brush a hand across her arm before spinning out of his reach, bringing an arm across his shoulder blades, and dropping him to his knees with a cut of her knives across the back of them.

He's made his last mistake, and the terror in his eyes as he looks up at the encroaching cleric says he realizes that. Amelia grins, grabbing Jacob's hair and yanking back hard enough to make him cry out once more.

"The only thing deserved in this place, is the pain we have for you. Only this time, you won't live long enough to enjoy it." She digs her nails into his scalp, drawing blood before she tosses his head forward and looks up to meet her cleric's eyes.

"Jon deserves better than what this place gives him. We're going to even that a little today."

Chris watches her dance with the appreciation and marvel it deserves. It is one of death and in its way it calls to him for its beauty. She jerks their prey's head back and Chris continues his approach, his attention still on her. She deserved it more.

"Even just a little is something...more than any filth of wasted life like you grant another." His eyes flick back down to the lump of flesh, panting and scared and doomed on his knees. He reaches out, hands calm and gentle as they cup the guard's face. Chris' smile is cruel and so satisfied in that breath of space.

"How terrible you only die once." It's another blink before the sickly black spreads through the man's veins, searing his blood inside his own body and pushing out. Wounds visibly spread and deepen across the man's skin and bleed him slowly. It runs over Chris' hands and their victim screams until he very sharply can't and falls to the ground. It's not a quick death, the cleric makes sure of that...but he kneels down by the man to watch every moment of it. When his final breath leaves him, Chris watches and cherishes it.

"There now...may your soul scatter as useless as dead leaves and no one else know the foulness of your touch but the barren soil you turn to. I'll be sure to tell my love you'll haunt him no longer."

Edited 2023-06-18 10:04 (UTC)

It is a pity that they can only kill this man once, but there are more where he came from. Another Chris has even mentioned to her by name. They'll find that one someday soon and end him the same as they did this one, perhaps with even more pain when they're clearer headed. Assuming he doesn't die of terror on his own first.

Amelia drops the dead man in her grasp after she's certain he'll take no more breaths, dusting her hands before noticing the blood on them. Something else to take care of, because she's not about to let this piece of filth stain her. She takes a black handkerchief from her pouch and offers it to Chris, using it or a second to start cleaning her hands of the last remnants of a life now gone.

"Have you a plan for where we should leave this example for the city?" she asks, calm and utterly without concern for how out in the open they still are in this alley. Given how dark it's become, she doubts anyone will be unwise enough to follow them in here. She finishes cleaning her hands and then begins to wipe her blades, glancing down at their prey with a thoughtful expression.

"I don't think he's worth making a statement out of, but I'll leave that decision to you. Whatever your choice, I have your back and support you." Even if all they do is stuff him in a trash bin or set the body ablaze, the rogue is ready to be fully rid of this asshole.

He holds up a hand to let her keep her handkerchief for herself. For his part, he lets magic do its thing and a gentle purple glow quickly sees the red on his skin gone without a trace.

"I've no care for the body of anything dead, he's simply a pile of meat and bone. I'm just as pleased to let carrion have him as I am to dump him in a dumpster." That said, he does take a quiet moment to offer a prayer of apology to the Matron. He was meant to offer a merciful death, even to those who'd wronged him or his...but he wasn't so good a person as that.

"Let's tuck him behind a dumpster. Lets living things eat of him as they like afore anyone's likely to notice the stain he leaves. It's all he's worth now." He pauses a moment as he turns to the body to consider where best to take it...and looks back to Amelia. "Thank you, darling. I hope that healed some small bit of you as much as it did me."

"You never need to thank me for this, Chris. My blades are ever at your disposal." The same way they are for all of her people. The corner of her mouth turns up in a smirk. "I always welcome the chance to rid this city of more filth, too."

They hardly present the kind of challenge she'd prefer, but dreams does it feel good to truly give back to this city what it deserves.

She's quiet as takes up the body and carries it to the first dumpster they can find, dropping it again without a single care for what disrespect this may be in the eyes of others. If the man didn't want to end up dead in an alley, he shouldn't have taken up the post he did with the city. In her eyes, it's that simple, and everyone else in the city's employ would do well to note the same.

Once the dumpster's been pushed into place and stopped with rocks in its wheels, the rogue cleans her hands once more as they turn their back to their work and make their way back down the way they came from. Before they step back out onto the street, she pauses them, a serious but fond smile on her face.

"May you sleep well tonight, my cleric. You deserve as much and more." She traces the air beside his face with a hand for a few seconds before withdrawing, still turned to him as she backs into the crowd on the street and disappears into them. "Call for me when you need me. I'm always here for you."

[Duplicity] IC Inbox

cw: reference to brutality, torture, non-consensual insertion

(switching to prose) cw: depictions of psychological torture

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cw: noncon touching, psychological torture

cw: psychological torture

cw: ongoing psychological torture

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cw: violence, torture, death

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