04 . Spam for pre-arranged threads

[godsays]

[ He settles into his own mind with a jarring sense of wrongness, from thoughts that fell in orderly lines to a jumble, mismatched and unsettling. With the ebb of the flood, he has changed, from sanity to the lack of same, and he feels the difference all the more starkly now that he knows for certain what both of them mean.

Heel of his hand rubs at the lump over his breastbone.

He would be sane, if not for the voice. Is that what this meant? Or was it the weakness in his heart that stopped him from being as dangerous as he otherwise would have been? Was the Admiral's goal to take away his teeth, to make him meek? Or was this truly a lesson he should take to heart?

He tries to herd his thoughts, settles into stillness in the corner. Utter stillness, not moving a muscle for hours.

In the meantime: his door is closed. ]

Comments

[patheticvillain]

[That's weird. Cassel can't tell if he's jealous or just pissed enough about everything that he can be angry at Cassel because he's right here.]

[He tilts his chin up, watching him pace.]

Do I matter enough for you to hurt me? Be honest.

[godsays]

[ Zane doesn't know what he's feeling himself. He knows that it is intensifying, that he has a buildup of pressure and nowhere for it to go. No one to kill to relieve it. Usually, the voice was what aggravated it, what made him think he was about to burst with murderous intention. But here...

His response to Cassel's words is quick. He steps over and fists a hand in Cassel's shirt. Lifts him, and throws him at the nearest empty space of wall.

Zane is strong. He doesn't have any pewter, so it isn't supernaturally strong - not strong enough to break spines, crack skulls. But hard enough to hurt.

Does that answer your question, Cassel? ]

[patheticvillain]

[He was half-expecting it, maybe more than half. And it doesn't bother him. This is how he's used to talking, in a way. So when Zane grabs him, he has a brief second to smirk before he's thrown at the wall.]

[His back hits the wall, muscles twist painfully, and he bites his lip on impact hard enough that it splits. It keeps him from yelling, though, so he doesn't care. He spits blood as he slides to the floor again and grins up at Zane.]

Thanks. Feel better?

[godsays]

[ A tight shake of his head. Not enough. But he has himself back under control again, though his whole body is tight, his hands in fists.

One of his sleeves has scrunched back a couple of inches, leaving the beginnings of trailed scars visible by the inside of his wrist. ]

[patheticvillain]

[He sees. Doesn't say anything, but his eyes linger there long enough that it's easy to catch. Then he tilts his head back against the wall.]

So do it again.

[godsays]

[ He holds back. He doesn't know why; isn't this what he wants, an invitation to hurt? He craves it. No risk: if Cassel is killed, he'll come back.

He steps forward, and crouches before Cassel. Reaches out, and brushes his thumb below the corner of Cassel's mouth, collecting a drop of blood. Licks it off of his tongue, savoring the iron tang.

And then he lifts his hand and backhands Cassel, viciously. Grabs him, and this time shoves him towards the chest full of clothes, all hard wooden angles. ]

[patheticvillain]

[The touch is worse. It reminds him of something bad but he's not sure what. Just - he hates it, his eyes narrow, he considers just biting him to get him away because he's spent too much time around Lila.]

[He's not going to bite anybody's bare thumb, though.]

[But then he's slapped (his face stings, he snarls) and thrown (the edge of the chest digs between two ribs, going to leave a bruise, he can tell). He grabs onto the edge, wincing, poking at his lip with his tongue.]

Cover your hands if you're going to touch my face.

[godsays]

Why?

[ A tilt of his head. The pain that Cassel's in - feels good, to him. His frustration working its way out.

He pauses, savors, considers his next move. ]

[patheticvillain]

Because if I'm going to let you do this, you're going to cover your hands, asshole.

[There's not much heat to it. This is decently relaxing for him, too. Reminds him of home.]

Or hit me somewhere else.

[godsays]

[ Strikes Cassel in the ribs, and picks him up and slams him back against the wall, his forearm across Cassel's collarbones.

Considers choking him. Bare-handed. Drags him down to impact his knee with the pit of Cassel's stomach, instead. And steps away, leaving him to fall.

That's good enough. He can breathe easier, now. ]

[patheticvillain]

[He weathers it without much noise, beyond a couple of grunts. In the end he falls on the floor, one arm covering his stomach protectively, one holding him up.]

[His grin's ghastly through the pain and the blood drying on his lips, when he catches his breath enough to shake the hair out of his face and look at Zane.]

Thanks.

[For not touching his face anymore, and for the pain.]