|Patrick Clark | Patroclus (borrowed_armor) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2016-10-16 23:23:00
|Entry tags:||hybris, jesse delacroix, patroclus|
WHO: Patroclus, Jesse Delacroix then Hybris. Maybe Moros. Maybe other DiNocti, I dunno!
WHAT: Just boys being sad and also tortured
WHEN: Sunday morning
WHERE: The...place Moros has them!
WARNINGS: Torture and the effects of such
The hunger wasn't a problem.
To Patroclus, hunger was a well-known companion, even if not a friend. He remembered war marches, trudging and weary, his stomach aching as he ignored it and put one foot in front of the other. He never knew where his next meal was coming from during those marches, and he never once complained. Even since reappearing when belief made it possible, he had known hunger on and off when circumstances dictated. He could ignore the clawing of his belly, and he could even ignore the dull ache of the wounds Hybris and her siblings had inflicted on him for the past few days.
There was something though, that Patroclus hated more than anything, and he couldn't ignore it no matter how hard he tried.
It was the thirst. It was always the thirst.
He ran his tongue around in his mouth, trying to sum up any kind of moisture. His tongue felt sticky and too large, and there was a pain behind his eyes, though whether that was from dehydration or the head injuries remained to be seen. His throat burned and his gums dried out and he hated every single second of it.
"Jesse," Patroclus croaked, trying to distract himself. They were still hanging from the ceiling, facing each other but too far to touch. "Jesse, you still with me, man?"