elijah christophe wants to fly away~ (subtleseraph) wrote in landvik_logs, @ 2013-04-24 10:09:00 |
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Current mood: | drained |
Current music: | metric |
Entry tags: | !angel, !bogeyman, clover, elijah |
Who:Clover Fitzgerald (inclover) & Elijah Christophe (subtleseraph)
When: Saturday, 04/20
Where: Undisclosed location
What: torturing the angel and bogey
Warnings: violence, Eli's mouth
Rating: PG-13/R
Sitting on the dirty ground of god-knows-where -- there was no light as far as she could tell and the air was chilly around them -- Clover felt fear rise like bile in her throat. She wondered if this was what her -- her victims felt like in the minutes before she devoured them, but then the analogy wasn’t quite fair. What she was fearing wasn’t death, or even pain, really, for she knew she wouldn’t die that night, her survival instincts far too strong to allow that to happen. What she feared most was the only thing she’d ever truly feared in the history of her existence: being found out. The shame of it all, the inevitable disgust on the faces of the people around her, stranger or friend, the guilt that would come with her body’s automatic response -- destroy those who knew. She’d cuddled close to Elijah, not even saying a word, just pressing her face against his shoulder and shaking with the fear of it, what if they come near what if they try to kill me and then I kill them all and then he’ll see and then I’ll have to -- a deep breath. Clover tried to curl in further on herself and take Elijah with her, but her hands were tied behind her back so she could only try to get closer to him even where it was no longer possible. “I’m scared,” she whispered to him, although she didn’t quite know why; Gabriel seemed to be less impressed than ever with her behavior and she wasn’t surprised -- she’d always had the impression that he didn’t consider her worthy of their kind. But this in a sense was her greatest strength, the bogeyman’s incredible ability to hide herself taken to the highest level, because even on the last day on earth who would ever suspect her, with the emotion in her eyes and the upwards twist of her smile, of being a child-eater? At the moment, though, it didn’t seem to be working out for her too well. Suddenly a cold hand was pulling her roughly by the arm, away from Elijah, and she shrieked at that, falling on the floor with a painful noise, the flowy skirt of her spring dress spreading out around her knees -- already spotted with the blood of various people. “Elijah,” she choked out his name, eyes flickering for a moment over to Gabriel before she decided she couldn’t bear to see what look he’d shoot her. But they were taking Elijah too. Clover was dragged first, not allowed to get up as her arm ached from the pressure and her knees left bloody tracks as they were scraped roughly against the rough ground. She tried to keep her breathing under control. She would make it through this, and she wouldn’t let herself be discovered, she wouldn’t. With her eyes closed in the attempt at control, she didn’t notice when they reached a small room, apart from the rest of their group -- Clover cried out as they threw her harshly on the ground in the room, and felt a sudden, aching pain in her shoulder where the bone had been dislocated from its socket. Fuming silently ever since he’d realized what happened -- that somehow, someone had managed to surprise him and the others here and take them -- Elijah had been doing his best to ignore the coldness of the room around him, concentrating on keeping just calm and rational enough to still have his wits about him. A quick glance about the room had confirmed that other than Clover and himself, there were three others with them, but he was only able to recognize Athanasia and knew his fellow angel could take care of herself. That didn’t stop him from worrying, however. The other humans were of no concern to him, but he wouldn’t say that aloud. Forcing himself to smile as he looked down at the cowering form of Clover huddled against him, he swallowed the lump in his throat and attempted to appear brave. Or, at least, braver than her. Unable to use his arms, as his hands were similarly tied, he managed to wriggle himself so that what little warmth his body was still producing might help cease her trembling. She was delicate, practically screaming ‘victim’ with every ounce of her being, and for reasons Elijah couldn’t determine he couldn’t fathom the idea of seeing her hurt. A plan was forming, one that might keep her and Athanasia safe, but he had no idea if he could pull it off. “Don’t be, I promise you I’ll get us out of this,” he responded, voice filled with more confidence than he was actually feeling. Stretching out with his mind to see if he could get a feel for the kidnappers’ mindsets, he waded through the fear and disapproval that seemed to fill the room before catching a snippet of an almost killer intend coming from a mind that he wasn’t familiar with. Before he could give any sort of warning, he felt rather than saw Clover get yanked away from him, and as he opened his mouth to protest a hand roughly jerked him to his feet as well. Unlike Clover, no sounds came from the angel as he glared up at the person manhandling him, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t make out the face of the kidnapper, but even still was trying to commit any identifying features to memory for later. When he heard Clover choke out his name, any hesitance or thoughts of behaving took their leave, a slight smirk curling on his face. “Ah, I see your game now, you’re taking us off in groups of two for food, right?” They weren’t, and he was aware of that, but deep down figured if he kept talking he might be able to anger them enough that they’d forget about Clover and focus on him. “You really need to work on your service, my friends and I would be far more cooperative if we weren’t freezing,” he continued, his words hitching in his throat when they pushed him into the room. “I’ll take an eggs benedict, black coffee, and some orange juice. And the lady will have the same,” he called out, keeping his tone jovial even though he didn’t feel it. “Fine, no food, but can you at least undo the ropes? She’s hurt, and we’re no good to you injured!” Elijah tried, desperate to be able to check on Clover. His only answer was the sound of a door closing in his face. “Damnit... are you hurt badly?” He realized it was a stupid question, but he had to know. “I’m sorry, next time I’ll get them to stop.” “No,” Clover responded after a moment, but her voice was shaky. She did her best to scramble over to him without falling, and at another time she would’ve winced at how pathetic she might’ve looked, but at the moment she wanted the reassurance of proximity. She paused, and when she spoke again it was already a little bit closer to normal -- as much of an obvious pretense that it was. “I think, maybe -- my shoulder hurts. But I’m okay. It’s not your fault. None of this is. I just -- maybe I need to look stronger.” Much easier said than done, but at that moment, with the kidnapper out of the room, the dark presence in Clover’s chest that warned of what she could do had calmed, and her general presence reflected it. She sat back on her heels so that it looked almost like she was kneeling, hands prone behind her back and head slightly bowed down. “When they come back -- “ Clover started, but despite her newly determined tone she stopped as if something had caught in her throat. “When they come back -- Elijah -- “ his name once more flew softly off her tongue, “ -- I’m sorry.” She didn’t really know what she was sorry for, but it seemed clear to her what would happen when they came back. Out of the two of them she was the weak one; that much was clear. The only thing was that she wasn’t sure why they’d brought him there, too -- to humiliate her, perhaps? It was the only reason she could think of. At first, Elijah didn’t respond to Clover’s statement, though the expression on his face indicated that he had heard everything she said. Under usual circumstances, he would have wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer, and done his best to assure her that he had this under control, but now was not the time for lies. “D’you think it’s dislocated, or broken?” he asked, concerned. If it was broken, then there wasn’t much they could do, however with the right pressure applied it was easy -- though still painful -- to fix a dislocated bone. “And don’t be silly, I know this isn’t my fault, but it isn’t yours either. Look, these... whack jobs, for lack of a better word, are the only ones at fault here, but they’ve got no clue what we’re capable of.” Elijah started, wanting to set her mind at ease and explain the plan he’d thought of so far. “When they come back, no matter what they try, we need to stick together.” He smiled softly, nudging her head up with his chin before pressing his forehead to hers. “Now you listen to me, Clover. We both know I’m stronger than you -- no offense intended, it’s a biological fact that men have more muscle mass than women and I’m quite a bit bigger than you size-wise -- so I’m going to get them to go after me. Once I do, and you see that their attention is focused on shutting me up or whatever, you run. Just as hard and as fast as you can. Try to get out of here.” The words ’I will keep you safe’ were implied, but went unsaid. The girl across from him closed her eyes at his first question, letting the pain coming from her shoulder wash over her as she attempted to determine if it was broken. She didn’t have much experience with these things, but when she opened them again she said, “Dislocated. I’m fairly sure,” with a good amount of certainty. But their hands were tied, literally and figuratively, and her shoulder would have to wait. She waited quietly as he spoke, but took immense comfort from his touch -- her emotions felt so strong that she wondered that they weren’t spilling out from her body and reaching out to him. The place where their skin touched was warm, and seemed to clear her thoughts. While he spoke she said nothing and remained completely still, but it was clear she was listening. A moment or two of silence between them as she thought, and then Clover moved the slightest bit to meet his gaze, and their foreheads were no longer touching but their noses brushed; another day the spark that the motion would’ve sent down to her heart would’ve made her blush, but today she just tried to smile. “It’s not sticking together if I run away,” she murmured. “And -- there’s no way I’d make it out. I don’t even know where ‘out’ is.” What point she was trying to make, she wasn’t sure. The angel experienced a rare surge of rage at the brief jolt of pain that came to Clovers’ face when she closed her eyes, but inwardly he noted that she was obviously stronger than she looked if she was in that much pain and not screaming. It took a lot for her to be able to keep from crying, and it made him think that he had been underestimating her. “That’s better than the alternative. Maybe we can get them to fix it,” he posited, unlikely as it was. He could sense that their proximity was helping her, and that renewed his commitment to doing whatever he could to see her get through this. He allowed his thoughts to wander to the others, hoping Athanasia was all right but certain that he didn’t need to worry for her. Concentrating on the predicament he and Clover were in took precedence. His smile faded into a more contemplative mien as Elijah pondered her words, nodding in such a way that he was giving her a sort-of accidental eskimo kiss what with the way his nose lightly rubbed against hers. “You’re right, and I don’t know what I was thinking. I just don’t think you should be hurt anymore, but I didn’t stop to consider that it doesn’t make sense to run when we have no idea where we are. I’m sorry, that was a dumb suggestion on my part.” He sighed softly. “Right then, when they’re concentrating on me you keep quiet.” That was a much better plan. Clover let out a shaky exhale, and wished more than anything that her hands were free. “It wasn’t a dumb suggestion. I wish -- “ but she shook her head, unsure what she wished. A lot of things, at that moment, on top of the things that she normally wished for. Instead she slowed her breathing and looked at him. “Alright,” she said in response to his last plan, but still looked nervous, not liking the implications of what he was saying. It was then that the door flew open, and Clover’s head turned so quickly towards the entering man that it made her dizzy. The two of them were immediately shoved apart, Clover turning back attempting to hold on to his gaze as long as she could -- which was until the kidnapper slapped her hard across the face. She fell over from the force of it, tasting blood in her mouth and her shoulder throbbing in pain from the impact, but other than an initial shudder, made no move. The man above her, in his turn, looked at Elijah. Elijah was pleased when, even though it seemed like she’d argue, Clover agreed with his idea. “No matter what happens, we’re going to get through this, alright? You just have to trust me.” And he would trust in God, despite how well that had worked out in the past. He would never admit that his faith might be wavering, but he was starting to question Fathers’ motives a bit more often than he liked. He was about to say more the door opened, making him shut up. The moment the man pushed them apart Elijah’s mouth was in motion, words tumbling forth but not fast enough to stop the sound of a hand hitting Clovers’ face so hard that Elijah could feel his own teeth rattle. “Oh, wow, you can beat up a girl. Should we be scared? Takes a big man to make a little girl bleed...” he drawled sarcastically, trying hard to keep his anger out of his voice. Meeting his eyes, Elijah sat up as best he could. “Issat how you get your kicks, brutalizing those who can’t fight back?” The words had barely left his mouth when he felt a foot make contact with his midsection, his eyes widening as he bit back a gasp. “That all you got?” It took all his strength not to wheeze, but he had to keep up his antics to keep Clover safe. I trust you. She hadn't gotten the chance to say the words back before things had been spun into motion once again, but they remained right there on the tip of her tongue and written all over her face as she looked at him from the ground. We are going to get through this, she told herself, repeating Elijah's words, and I will go back to the academy and I will still be a human in everyone's eyes, but then her attacker kicked her roughly on her back and she slid jaggedly across the ground, cheek cold against the floor, chest pounding and urging and aching for the chance to be freed, show them who you are, show them what you are, make them pay. But Elijah's words couldn't be ignored by the kidnapper for long enough, and Clover did her best to sit up once she heard the sound of a boot against his body, but the pressure on her shoulder only made her gasp quietly and hit the ground on her back. Still she craned her neck, needing to see him. She bit her lip until it bled, remembering the instruction to be quiet, but despite herself the tears began to roll down her cheeks. Clover had not always been able to cry, but she'd always wanted to, feeling a connection to the idea of a strong emotion having a physical, human reaction. She'd trained herself to do it, had taken weeks in front of a mirror pulling her eyelids down, buying onions, but now those tears that once seemed so precious were coming unbidden. Not trusting himself to hold it together if he looked over at Clover, Elijah directed all of his attention to staring down their captor. Despite the bruises already forming on his cherubic face, the hatred in his gaze was still strong. Not intense enough to stop the zealot from continuing his onslaught, but certainly not the kind of reaction he might’ve been expecting. “What’s this all about, anyway?” he asked, not expecting an answer but saying whatever he could think of in the moment. The response he got -- a stiff fist to the face and a hand grasping his curls to pull him to his feet -- did not disappoint. This was what he wanted, potential broken bones aside, to force the torturer to expend his energy on him so he’d have to leave Clover be. “You have to know that whatever it is you’re hoping to do, all you are doing is making people angry. People with powers, some of whom won’t have any issues with fighting back,” Elijah murmured, pausing to spit out a wad of blood that seemed too red to his eyes. “Does it feel good, being a terrorist? Just ‘cause we’re diff...” His words were cut off by another punch. He could taste his own blood, the coppery tang unfamiliar but stoking the primal survival instinct that Elijah didn’t even realize he possessed. Deciding to take a chance, he kicked out at the man with one leg, solidly connecting with a shin and causing the grip on his hair to lessen. With his head free, he lunged forward and slammed his forehead into the nose of their assailant, his momentary feeling of victory dulled as the man retaliated by shoving the angel into the nearest wall. As his face collided with the concrete, the vision in Elijah's left eye went hazy as blood began to filter in and obscure his sight. He was certain something had broken, but that paled in comparison to the dizziness that washed over him. He struggled to stay conscious, mumbling incoherently. “Hey... hey... you’re a twat, you know that? When I get free I’ma kick you so hard you’ll be tasting my shoe leather for months...” The threats continued in that vein, mostly nonsensical, but laced with vehement intent. Elijah taken care of at least for the moment, their assailant turned back to Clover where she was backed up in the corner, still sobbing as quietly as she could, eyes flickering between him and the angel. Maybe if she pressed into this corner hard enough she would disappear, fall right through it. But then she’d be leaving Elijah behind, and that seemed unacceptable. She wished desperately for Rasui. The man across from her was still breathing hard, jaw clenched and fists twitching. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to continue on beating the smaller man for his words, and turned to him as if to do it, but the door opened again and all eyes in the room were immediately on it. Someone else came in. A woman. She had a certain presence to her that the man didn’t, a stern face and a harsh cut of the jaw. Ignoring the two of them completely, she approached the man and handed him a coil of rope, and a long stick. “Make him watch,” the woman said, and quickly left, without a backward glance. Clover looked down at the rod in his hand. It was a brand, of the like, she noted instantly, used on horses and cattle and such -- and it was red hot. He took a step towards her and she just looked at him, wide-eyed, the stress of the days getting to her, hardly able to believe what was going on. “We’re not evil,” the man said roughly, his first words since coming in. “The supernaturals, that’s evil. If we were evil there’d be much worse we would do to you. Especially to you, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?” The bogeyman closed her eyes and slowly forced the tears to a stop, but said nothing. Although he was in no state to react as quickly as he would like, Elijah was still coherent enough to both see and hear Clover and their tormenter. Forcing his body to move, he began to crawl toward the man, already running through his options. He couldn’t stand, but there were still ways that he could cause a delay that might give her a chance to make a move. If he were able to concentrate this wouldn’t be an issue. The brief interruption from the woman caught his attention just as it had the other occupants of the room, but in Elijah’s case it had him pausing in his efforts and praying that the scant distance he’d moved wasn’t noticeable. Holding his breath until she was gone, he struggled to keep quiet lest he accidentally give himself away. Realizing what the man now had in his possession and what that could possibly do to poor Clover gave Elijah a small burst of strength and he reached out, catching the mans’ foot with one hand as he went to step closer to Clover. The action wasn’t enough to fully stop him, but it did trip him up slightly. Elijah looked over at Clover, silently willing her to somehow defend herself. He wasn’t sure how, but he assumed she could be inventive if the need arose. If he was lucky, the man would be too annoyed by his continued insistence on fighting back and would attack Elijah again instead. Just in case, he began to flail his arm in a wide arc, attempting to hit their enemy a few more times. Anything to buy Clover a few more seconds to think. And to his credit, being frustrating was something the angel was incredibly skilled at. His prize, for winning this particular round, was a jolt through his system that finally succeeded in rendering him unconscious. Elijah's attempts weren't entirely successful, although they did slow the man down -- nonetheless he appeared to be coming towards her in slow motion, the rod held out in front of him. Clover tried to scoot away but there was nowhere to scoot; she was backed up into the corner. Her heart beat faster. She glanced at Elijah, who looked to be passed out, and her heart caught in her throat for the boy who had gotten hurt so badly in an attempt to protect her, her, the girl or the monster who could have protected both of them were she not so afraid of the potential consequences. In that moment of distraction, the man pressed the iron to her naked calf, and Clover screamed, pulling away but too late, burning flesh that still sizzled in a shape she couldn't recognize at the moment, and pain and humiliation and the most fury at injustice she was capable of producing. Her heart beat even faster. When she opened her eyes again to look up at her tormenter, they were clear. Elijah was unconscious, and every bit of self-preservation she'd ever had -- and that was a large, large amount -- was clawing at her from the inside. She let it out. It was different than the quick shifting into a shadow behind an Academy building with Rasui's arms around her, different than the sudden fear that had caused her to devour the first love of her life. Bogeyman instincts took over, to make the prey fear, fear more than any other time in their life, and so Clover's transformation into her true form was slow. Her body seemed to melt away as if she were a wax doll, slowly, disgustingly, her head last of all, and she saw the expression on the man's face change and felt his fear enter her heart. It added to the hunger she'd already been nursing for a few weeks now, even while an idle part of her wished he were a child. The process of feeding. It was so much better when they were afraid, as much as she hated it (except when she didn't). He tried to make a run for the door but Clover was faster; her injuries were in her human form but like this she was good as new and her shadow quickly slid across the ground until she rose up again between the man and the door, stopping him in his tracks. The form her shadow took changed, into a grotesque form of a human being. She gave herself wings, beautiful, dark wings that protruded slowly from her back and extended to the ceiling; the man's terror increased -- hatred of supernaturals, yes, but hatred combined with incredible fear -- and there appeared on her a mouth, small, lipless, but with sharp teeth, that resided not on her face but over her heart. Then she descended upon him. When Elijah came back to himself, Clover would be crying, although she wouldn't say why. She'd say the man had left, and attempt to hide the burnt, painful skin on her leg. Blood stains would mark the floor and Clover's cheek, and she'd hope he'd assume they were from previous people tortured in this room. Eventually they would be brought back to join the others, but there remained still days before they would be found. |