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 Posted: Sun Jul 29, 2018 6:47 pm
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«Lokeah»
Captured||Trickster God||Wanna Play?
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Lokeah wasn't in a condition to disagree or rebel at the moment, he would listen and take Anslem's hand when it was offered... but he didn't like it. He didn't liek to be near this man anymore and couldn't identify his true personality.
It was because of this that the sudden shift in demeanor when they left the room would catch the god off guard. Before he knew it, he was being pushed in the direction of a wall, rather then being immediately taken back down to the hallway that he dread to see again.
When his arm was grabbed, the only reaction he could muster was that of instant fear. His gloomy expression turned to wide eye's as he braced himself for further damage... but instead there was an odd kindness to the words that followed. This man wanted to... help him? Was it some ploy to appease his master? To show that he preserved the beauty of a future asset? Maybe.
It was thanks to these thoughts that Lokeah would be distracted enough to only make a squeak quiet enough to be properly muffled by the hand covering his mouth, though he may have accidentally left a bite in that hand.
Lokeah released a sigh of relief when he was released, and simply nod in reaction while he processed Anslem's words. They were wise and he would take them to heart for the future, if only to avoid more unpleasant happenings.
So long as his pride allowed it of course. "R-right..." He said softly and followed closely to the other male as he was lead down below once again. He was obedient for now, but he had no interest in being all the near to the one who hurt him... even if he now seemed to have kinder intentions. There was no trust here.
[EXIT]
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Who are you?: St.Vier, Anselm
Where: Apostolic Vestibule
Mood: scared, exhausted, uncertain
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Posted: Tue Jul 31, 2018 5:18 pm
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••• St. × Vier  St. Vier closed his eyes and lay still for several minutes, waiting for sleep to come. Usually, sleep rushed at him whenever he allowed it to. He slept little enough that at some level, his body always craved it, and it had been up to him to conquer his body in that. At some level, he simply needed less sleep biologically; whatever he was didn’t require it as much. But part of that lack of need was purely psychological; he didn’t want it, so he learned to function without needing it.
When it became obvious that he wasn’t going to sleep now, he pulled himself up, flinging his blankets off. It was true that he and Jean-Claude had made plans to meet. Them and…a third figure, much more of a wild card than either he of Jean-Claude, at least when it came to his personal relations.
But that meeting wasn’t supposed to start for hours. He had accounted for some rest time, had his sacrifice ready for the third party, who he’d had to lure to him with something he was sure to enjoy: flesh, and a currently unbroken spirit.
Still, he found himself rising and pulling off the nightgown in favor of his more practical clothes, turning his face into the silver platter that served as a kind of mirror. He wasn’t a vain man, particularly, but Jean-Claude was strikingly beautiful, and he certainly didn’t want to be second among them.
Thoughts still circled around Lokeah, the failure that had been an attempt to nurture a favorite in the shapeshifter. He hadn’t abandoned that idea, but he could approach the man with a decidedly different strategy when they next met.
Anselm, on the other hand, had been a steady and useful presence. Unease ran through him momentarily at the thought of leaving him and the Kirs effectively in charge of Haven while he was out. Nothing about Anselm’s behavior made him doubt his fallen angel, but--again, there was that random element, that knowledge that Anselm wasn’t entirely broken.
He was only taking one Kir with him as guard, leaving the rest to mindlessly perform his will in several simple imperatives. He wouldn’t go out by himself, not as he was--as he’d told Lokeah, he was well aware that in a fight he would lose to many of his slaves. Luckily, he never let that be the situation in which they met. [EXIT TO GUILTY PLEASURES] |
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Fri Mar 15, 2019 2:00 pm
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••• St. × Vier  Haven was a small building, innocuous except in St. Vier’s estimation. They passed several sensors, ending at what would have been the alter at an actual church, surrounded by stained glass windows he’d painstakingly maintained.
It was dangerous to keep Volithius here for even a moment. Dangerous to keep him anywhere but in the extreme parts of the Below, especially as he was.
”Take him to my room” St. Vier murmured, against what was likely natural wisdom, already starting to droop with exhaustion now that he was—home. Eventually the best thing to do would involve a great deal of effort: evaluating and maintaining a cell for the scientist would be a full time job, nothing he had ready would do.
Right now, though, he could make up for much of that effort. If nearly the entirety of Haven’s security was focused on him, there was little he could do to act without being neutralized.
And so, St. Vier relaxed into his own bed, in his own room. The rooms, covered with old technology, with rare religious pieces and bits of rare creatures, weren’t clearly secured. Someone just looking around, someone who knew nothing about him, might have thought he was unsecured against someone like Volithius, even if the creature were unconscious.
As it was, St. Vier sighed in relief into his own bed, one hand coming down to watch the lax-looking actions on the other side of the room.
There was nothing very fancy, or threatening. One Kir closed a metal collar around Volithius’s limp form; another did the same for each limb, pulling him taught against a corner of St. Vier’s room. They all remained on guard in the room, providing the real security.
Only one went away, retrieving thread, pain relievers, bandagers, everything needed to try to recover St. Vier’s sight in at least one eye. It was true that the deep cut that had cut the man’s sight off was much deeper in one eye than the other.
Another lingered over Volithius, pulling his eye patch off as if measuring the inability there.
And so there Volithius would hang, in the corner of St. Vier’s room, where the slaver dozed in a healing sleep. |
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Posted: Thu Mar 21, 2019 1:40 pm
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Sat Apr 06, 2019 6:36 pm
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••• St. × Vier
Within his rooms, St. Vier surrendered himself to some measure of care, much as it pulled against his inclinations to desire anything at all outside of himself.
He didn’t call for, or require, any particularly gifted healers. The single creature his Kirs brought before him had been a healer, but something more similar to a hedgewitch than a proper doctor. But this was what was available in Haven at the moment; this particular figure was only half-broken, far too dangerous and superfluous to ever be taken to St. Vier under normal circumstances.
St. Vier was familiar enough with what would feel like negotiation between equals to coax the slave to attend to his eyes, to trick the woman into thinking she would be given preferential treatment. He ended with one eye stitched entirely shut, a line of imperfect black lines all along the eyelid placed to keep him from trying to open the lid and damage himself further. The final stitch in, St. Vier was aware of the coincidental similarity the slave’s healing had wrought between him and the unconscious Volithius.
Responding to his irritation, he had Volithius’s active eye stitched shut to mirror his own. A simple procedure, it succeeded in renewing his overall interest in the moment.
His other eye was more lightly slashed; cleaning ointment as well as a shot of energy (of the kind Honey had an unfortunate affinity for) brought him back to something like working order.
He couldn’t see well, and the eye was an angry, veiny red, but he could see.
With a gesture he sent the healer away, back to her cell, ignoring her righteous anger as a Kir dragged her off.
A glance toward Volithius and his small retinue turned toward him, yanking the scientist’s eyepatch back into place, with the stitches invisible underneath it.
He pushed off of his bed, bridging the short distance between them. The man appeared, still, to be unconscious, and St. Vier admired him like the prize he was: patting his cheek, playing with his hair, all things that would be extremely dangerous if the man were awake. He had a Kir undress him, turning away as if he were concerned with Volithius’s dignity. It was--complicated for him to look at Volithius naked. There was no need for this to be complicated, certainly right now. Any poor or dangerous effects that the scientist had hidden his clothing would be wrought on the Kir: any actual physical damage would land, but anything involving poison, venom, or that depended on a substance working on the Kir rather than actively cutting at him would appear not to effect the creature at all.
St. Vier moved to one cabinet of his many curios, pulling down two black gloves, of a material that looked like nitrile but was in fact some cheap waste product sold in bulk at the market. A long-sold slave had been an engineer of some skill before his mind had been emptied, and he’d created the design for the gloves--tight and adhering to the hands to allow for dextrous movement, strong, very easily washed. By the time he’d pulled the gloves on and turned back, Volithius would have been casually dressed in one of the loose, gender-neutral outfits Haven stored by the dozens for in-training slaves. There were no buttons or zips or anything that could be used to harm oneself by choking or otherwise, the fabric a dull blue.
His movement back toward Volithius would be somewhat jerky: Energy was keeping him awake, but he’d taken nothing for pain or attended to any injuries beyond his eyes. It didn’t matter though, the pain. It would restrict his movement, but his focus was strong enough to (mostly) send it to the back of his mind.
His gaze lifted back to Volithius’s face, checking to see if he’d come back to consciousness (between the stitching, the manhandling, the dressing, he would be--unless the scientist was deep in unconsciousness healing, or something to that effect).
He smiled lightly in greeting, back to the beatific priest Lokeah would have been familiar with--an overall pleasant-looking, kindly persona. Not that Volithius would be fooled, it was just--satisfying to be in a position where there was no need at all to spit venom, to be particularly on guard. With so many of his Kirs close at hand, he didn’t feel particularly vulnerable. ((Rewritten from scratch. Also I learned some cool stuff about treating eye injuries. )) |
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Posted: Wed Apr 10, 2019 10:53 am
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Mon Apr 15, 2019 12:55 pm
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••• St. × Vier His Kirs stepped respectfully back, good at being still enough to be basically invisible in spite of their bulk and frightening appearance, once Volithius came back to obvious consciousness. The Kir who had undressed and redressed the scientist looks down at its hands as it moved to stand in front of the door, watching the skin turn a rotting green, an inflamed and sickly red, to a cracked grey, and then back to its usual color, only setting the hands down once the cycle had finished. No particular emotion crossed its face, but if one had been watching throughout they might have gotten the feeling that the creature was amused, though it would be entirely unclear how one would have come to that conclusion.
Whatever reaction St. Vier might have wanted from Volithius, it wasn’t the small smirk and quip the man gave him, and St. Vier’s smile flickered, the edges of his mouth turning down before the expression re-established itself.
At the man’s second phrase, the phrase he’d just thought moments before, when he’d turned away from Volithius’s nudity, came back to him: ‘there was no need for this to be complicated.’ The only reason the attempt at manipulation had had any chance of landing at all was St. Vier’s memory of the beginning of the meeting with Jean-Claude. He had enjoyed the idea that he and Volithius could meet on equal terms. He would of course never admit it, but the idea had been exciting, opening a new vista of possibilities. A future where he could enjoy interacting with the man—still on guard of course, but without that being his only focus. Nothing like what they’d once had, but—something else. Something interesting.
A naïve idea, in hindsight. This was the only way they could interact, now. With one of them in chains, fighting not to bend to the other’s will.
That was right. No matter what Volithius was saying, it was clear who was in control here. The priestly smile became more convincing again.
”How little you must think of me to say something so foolish” St. Vier chided, moving slightly closer. With the gloves, it would likely be safe to touch Volithius’s skin. …if not, St. Vier wanted to know right away. He ran his gloved hand along the scientist’s right forearm, compressing the muscle as he moved along the limb as if testing the musculature, assessing his worth the way he regularly did for incoming slaves. His heart rate quickened as he waited for the glove to—melt, or catch on fire, or in any way react in a way that would let him know he couldn’t just touch the scientist.
He needn’t touch him at all, of course. There were so many other options. But—he wanted to. Would prefer to. |
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Posted: Tue May 14, 2019 2:06 pm
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2019 12:41 pm
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••• St. × Vier Muscle flexed under his fingers, and St. Vier pressed down, compressing his fingers until they were a sharp line up the man’s biceps to his shoulder. The material underneath was scratchy, nearly breaking under even this mild assault. He didn’t intend to damage with it; rather, he was emboldened because it was possible.
Fascinated, enthralled, it wasn’t until something shrieked in his mind that he was pulled back to remembering who Volithius, particularly was, apart from the pleasant lines of his musculature.
St. Vier had never met anyone like Volithius; had never encountered anything like the impossible, frustrating link that connected them mind to mind no matter how St. Vier disliked it.
But he had met a figure who had threatened to enslave St. Vier’s mind in a similar way, before St. Vier had broken him. Before he’d surrendered to the beautiful nothingness St. Vier insisted on, he’d done--something--to Haven, at St. Vier’s request.
He didn’t understand the specifics. He didn’t personally see the results. But he would have been pleased to know the specifics of Volithius’s failure to spread his mind beyond Haven’s walls. It was what he’d been promised--but it was hard to trust the promises of a creature who had, hours later, offered itself as a living toilet (what the client wanted wanted the man trained for).
Watching Volithius’s face closely, St. Vier did notice the scientist’s sharp pain reaction, and one gloved hand moved up Volithius’s face in response, a long, clever finger pressing under the man’s eyepatch, flicking under it with a boldness he wouldn’t have allowed himself in usual circumstances. Rather than revealing the dangerous weapon that had ruined his life more than once, the top of his fingernail met the bottom of one rough stitch, and, emboldened, St. Vier swiped one finger across the tied-down expanse of it.
There was a false demand in Volithius’s words, demanding information St. Vier had no real reason to give him.
He pointedly didn’t mention the future, didn’t mention what he might want to do with Volithius in the future. There was a real concern about how he would, safely, contain the man.
Volithius didn’t need to be audience to it.
”Ssh” St. VIer urged, rather than answer, pulling his body close to the held scientist. Fingernail harsh against the man’s eyelid, as if he might scoop the eye out rather than allow it to remain stitched shut, he met Volithius’s mouth with his own.
Did he intend, simply, to rape Volithius? Would that help him feel more in control?
St. Vier wasn’t thinking that far ahead. The thought of kissing the man, of lips meeting, without worrying overmuch about some chemical substance entering his bloodstream through the thin skin there--it was enough to thrill him.
It was still possible for Volithius to inject something into him, of course. St. Vier was counting on the idea that nothing would (though, really, if he’d expected nothing but a kiss, would he have been as interested in actually meeting his mouth?), due to the man’s weakness.
There was much more he might have done to the man--earlier than now, even, if he could ever have controlled the reaction his skin would have to the other man’s. There was no knowing when the most innocuous brush would lead to extensive vomiting, to total body weakness--
A kiss, simple as it was, would be thrilling without any of the chemical complications Volithius could provide.
Absent anything else designed to alter his state, he’d grip the stitched hollow of Volithius’s eye, using it as an anchor to keep Volithius against him, deepening their kiss.
Nothing new here. Any thrust of tongue, shift of mouth, would come from Volithius’s new inability to influence the angle, to change the activity itself.
Perhaps twenty seconds more, and St. Vier pulled back.
What would he do with Volithius?
He smiled his beatific smile. How many minds had he emptied, despite their complexity, despite their rigor and strength?
”I have a client.” |
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Posted: Wed May 15, 2019 2:42 pm
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Gold_Star_For_Robot_Boy Crew
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Posted: Tue May 21, 2019 2:38 pm
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••• St. × Vier There was no client, of course.
There might have been. There were always clients seeking his services, always someone he could bump off of a wait list to come in for a consultation. But there were none that he would have been comfortable seeing--as he was now. Weak, barely coasting by on the treatment he’d allowed from the slave he’d since sent back Below.
But it was--too much, to kiss Volithius like that.
Without further commentary, St. Vier straightened, waving at one of the Kirs to keep him in place as a guard. The creature didn’t acknowledge the command but, of course, stayed behind, as the other moved to keep pace behind him.
Smooth-faced, he made it outside of his room, closing the door behind him. He didn’t bother to lock it. There was no lock. The Kir he’d left inside was the lock.
He settled against it, heartbeat racing, body dumping all of its remaining stores of adrenaline into his system. He lifted one still-gloved hand to his lips, red, barely-seeing eye closing with difficulty as he struggled to control his breathing.
He had done it. With no ill effects, as far as he could tell.
The possibilities.
His skin prickled with energy, but he could tell he was reaching some natural limit to his body’s stores as well.
Besides, he couldn’t very well go back in there now. He had a…’client.’ St. Vier grimaced. From his vantage point on the other side of the door the lie sounded pathetic, childish almost, to his own internal ear, whether or not Volithius believed him. St. Vier didn’t need to explain himself to Volithius. He could simply--leave. Indeed, he had just been considering how little heneeded to explain or respond to any of the man’s ‘commands’ or desires.
No matter, he decided, finding his body inclined to start shaking, the exhilaration already starting to leave him weaker. It was a good opportunity to see what Volithius would do--to see if he was capable of causing any trouble in his current state. St. Vier could keep him weakened, if that was necessary at this stage of breaking. If this was an insufficient level of weakness, better to know sooner rather than later.
((Pt. 1 of 2; Move to: Entrance and Nave)) |
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Posted: Wed Jun 19, 2019 3:36 pm
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