| [Jun. 14th, 2009|07:04 pm] |
Tsume winced in pain of her own as he started to shift. She'd been cradled against him, and at his motion every lash across her back tried to open, and every muscle that had frozen into place was forced to move.
She didn't make a noise. How many times had they whipped him? She'd lost count, could only remember a hazy sort of cracking. Rolling away to give him space, she stared up at the grate for a moment. Then she brought her knees to her chest and rocked upward.
It broke every scab that had formed, leaving smears of blood on the floor and trickling down her back, leaving her in momentary agony. The scabs would have to be broken sooner or later; she'd rather it happen when she was expecting it. It took two long breaths before she was sure she could speak.
"Fancy, huh?" She sat carefully with her legs crossed, her back to Asuma. If she didn't move, there wouldn't be another wave of fire. If she didn't look at him, he didn't have to try and act like he wasn't hurting. "That mean I have to wear a dress?" She tipped her head just a little, keeping him in her peripheral vision in case he needed help. Most likely, the only help she could give was distraction, but if there was anything else she could do... |
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