driftfleet | 'cause it's better than nothing

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(last updated: 1/25/19)

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[Well then.

Exit the door he does, and then looks around the room again.

And because he's an absolute dumbass and books are important to him....he'll wander over to flip through the journal.

Nothing bad ever happened from reading a book, right.........?]

[The black journal flutters open, stopping on a few pages where only some entries seem to be legible. They are short, but the emotion contained between the lines, in the tight writing, is unmistakable.]

Winter 1848 - for a while he walked with a limp but would not tell me why.

There is talk of a theater trip on the morrow. He will not be permitted to attend, of that I am convinced. Yet we both pretended he would accompany me and that we should laugh together at the follies of society.

The bruises are on his face now and so deep sometimes I wonder if they will ever heal, even with all his supernatural abilities.

June 23, 1850
It is full moon tonight. He is not going to come. Tonight all his wounds will be self-inflicted. Time was once, he would spend such nights with me. Now there is no surety left for any of them except in his presence. He is holding his whole world together by merely enduring. He has asked me to wait. Yet I do not have the patience of an immortal, and I will do anything to stop his suffering. Anything. In the end, it comes to one thing. I hunt. It is what I am best at. I am better at hunting than I am at loving.

[Then, the scene around you darkens. When your eyes get used to it, you will see you are in a stone dungeon. It’s is lit up only by a few candles and by their flickering light you can see someone there.

Lyall is on his knees, naked. Both of his wrists are chained, the chains tied to hooks in the vaulted ceiling, pulling his arms and shoulders up uncomfortably. He is covered in bruises and lacerations, the skin of his back pretty much torn to shreds. It is trying to knot back together, but every time it does, a strike of a whip comes from a darker corner. The leather cords reopen the wounds, the blades embedded in them making blood splash.

From that dark corner a huge man, bearded and bushy haired, emerges, snapping the whip a few times. An unpleasant smile is on his face and he circles slowly around Lyall. Lyall looks back at him, his face completely blank. He also doesn’t make a sound any time the whip hits.

Lord Vulkasin Woolsey stops in front of Lyall and grabs his chin, sneering at him. And in that moment, a feeling submerges you. Lyall’s feeling. Pure hatred. Undisguised and raw. He hates this man, this wolf, with every fiber of his being. And yet underneath it all, there is something else. Pity. It gets drowned out, mostly, but it is still there.

Lord Vulkasin stares at Lyall some more, then licks the blood on the side of his face and for the first time Lyall recoils a little, which only makes Vulkasin smile more. You wish he wouldn’t smile, though. It looks like he might tear your throat out.
Suddenly, Vulkasin huge hand is around Lyall’s throat and he squeezes. Lyall struggles feebly against it on reflex. He is choking, his vision darkening…]

‘You always get so much tighter when I do this… Did your Italian whore get you used to this?’

[There’s a surge of hatred from Lyall again, but he can’t answer. Vulkasin lets go and Lyall takes a few raspy, gasping breaths. The other werewolf is walking around him and stops behind him, undoing his belt buckle and his trousers and then pulling him up by his hair.

… and then there’s a tap on your shoulder and here’s the Lyall you saw earlier in the office. His face is carefully neutral, but he urging you to turn away from the scene.]

The exit is that way.

Edited 2019-02-20 20:24 (UTC)

[Gods. Gods....

Felix stands in mute horror as the scene plays out, so shocked that he doesn't even think to turn away. He's personally been through some fucked up stuff, but this is--

The feelings are pretty bad too, but at least they're something different from the shock he's feeling himself. The anger feels purer too.

Finally, there's the tap on his shoulder, and Felix turns on his heel almost defensively. But when it's revealed to be...a different version of the man about to be sexually assaulted, he lets out a shuddering breath.]

....Okay.

[Without much protest, he makes his way to the indicated exit. Once he's back in the office, he just stands there, scrubbing his hands against his face.]

Shit....

[The Lyall in the office does not seemed fazed by the scene itself, or the fact that someone witnessed it. He goes to the teapot, pours one cup, and then comes to offer it to Felix, because, well, he is British and tea is the universal cure to all ailments, any British person knows that.

And then he'll go back to sit behind his desk.]

I am sorry, that was probably a bit more than your 'fair share'.

[He sounds remarkably unperturbed given what has transpired about what has happened to him.]

[...Okay, sure, tea.

When he hears Lyall approach, Felix lifts his head and...takes the tea. He guesses. And sips it because...well, it's a distraction, at least.]

No, I...

I'm sorry...that that happened to you.

There is no need for you to be. I knew this was likely to happen and chose not to walk away.

[he is now ordering the stacks on the desk again.]

Besides, it was more than fifty years ago. It's long past.

[Felix has very serious doubts about it being less....anything, just because it was 50 years ago. Well. Maybe. He doesn't know. But he also imagines that kind of thing doesn't go away easily.]

...Why was it likely to happen?

[He's treading carefully, the question almost soft. Which might be a little silly. This isn't...well. He doesn't think this is the real Lyall. Though he's not entirely sure either.]

If you don't mind talking about it.

Alpha werewolves are not mean to live forever. They go bad after a while. Funny. In the head.

[Lyall is saying all this matter-of-factly, leaning back into his chair and steepling his fingers together.]

One could say eternal life makes everyone go a bit funny in the head of course. But for some reason, it is worse for werevolves than for vampires. This is why we have challenges for dominance. When an Alpha goes bad, he is eliminated by a younger one who will take his place and lead the pack.

I have bene the beta of this pack for hundreds of years. I felt him go bad first. But there wasn't anyone around who could fight him and win. I had to... create the opportunity. And int he meantime, I had to keep the pack together and protect it. Even from him, if need be. Because this is what a Beta does.

'cause it's better than nothing

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CW : torture, violence, sexual assault

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