Head of DoMLE, Alecto Black (carrowblack) wrote in linia, @ 2011-10-25 02:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, black alecto carrow, weasley fred |
Who: Fred and Alecto
What: mind torture
When: Friday
Where: Ministry holding cells.
Rating: high, for violence
By Friday, Fred was a mess. His skin was covered in welts and bruises and blood from where whatever devious device Alecto came up with found its way to his cut into skin. His clothes were tattered and his head and neck ached from the weight of the iron mask. He couldn’t lift his head at all in the mask, and since Monday he couldn’t move the rest of his body as he was forced into a spread eagle position on the floor by use of charms and heated shakels.
She hadn’t said anything more than “Count” all week and while Fred knew he was pushing her to extremes by his refusal to count, it was getting harder and harder to withstand the immense torture and pain that his body was in. His mind had begun playing tricks on him, or so he thought, in the form of hallucinations and it scared him.
His resolve not to scream had been broken, early on, like day one, but he still had enough strength to refuse to count for her. Yes, it was making it worse on him, but he could not bring himself to give her the satisfaction. He was in terrible pain, perhaps even a broken arm, he couldn’t be sure, and there were blisters on top of scalded skin where the shackles on his wrists and ankles still remained, and still remained quite hot.
He heard the wards adjust and the cell door open as Alecto Black entered his cell - again - and all Fred could do was lay there, try to listen as she prepared for a new day. He inhaled slowly, cringing as the crunching sound in his chest indicated he’d at least cracked a rib.
Alecto had brought a guest with her, a little mind torture for Fred.
"Is this the specimen to be Marked?" the gentleman with her said, and Alecto nodded, smirking at him. A flick of her wand and Fred was pulled extra taut; he could scream bloody murder all he wanted, but since she'd shattered his jaw the visit beforehand, not much could be understood. It didn't matter to her anymore if he counted; he could count to a million and she'd just find a reason to keep whipping.
The gentleman made his way to Fred's left forearm, pressing his wand tightly to it. It wasn't the actual Mark of course, that still needed to be a choice, but Fred, with his iron mask, couldn't tell the difference. When the man had finished burning whatever nonsensical design he wanted into Fred's arm, he looked at Alecto, "It's done, ma'am."
It was indeed. Only a flesh burn, it would heal easily enough. But the psychological torture was all she was after; she waited for the man to leave the cell, then crashed the whip over Fred's body.
"Count."
While Fred couldn’t see he could still hear even though it was muffled due to the iron mask. His jaw ached from Alecto’s visit the day before where she somehow fractured his jaw from within the iron mask. Fred was quite sure it was his animated foul vocabulary that incited it, along with Fred’s continued refusal to count. Nevertheless, Fred found himself still in the iron mask with a pain in his jaw which left him now unable to speak without searing pain. But he could still scream. Oh, lucky Fred.
He heard movement as the wards lifted and Alecto entered his cell, though today, not simply just Alecto. He heard a man’s voice and when he heard the man ask if he was the one to be Marked, Fred let out a blood curdling scream and yanked and pulled on his restraints with as much effort and defiance as he could, though Alecto quickly charmed him still, his limbs burning under the heated shackles. Sceonds later he felt a white-hot searing pain on his left forearm, in exactly the place where the Supreme Lords Mark would go. The pain was unmeasurable and he screamed and fought and writhed in pain as the man burned it into his flesh.
He tried to scream “No, not the mark!” but his words were indistinguishable because he could barely speak and his breath was panicked and shallow. But the pain, the pain in his arm was nearly unbearable and Fred let out his loudest, most defiant screams yet, and as the pain of the Marking continued, Fred finally let the tears flow from within the mask. He’d been marked. Merlin’s balls, Fred Weasley had been given the Mark. At least that’s what he thought had been done. He was unaware that upon his arm was nothing more than some scalded nonsensical lines that meant nothing other than he’d have the scar there for probably quite some time.
But Fred didn’t know that and though a flash of a thought left Fred nearly as quickly as it came - he knew he hadn’t chosen to be Marked, and somehow that had to make a difference, right? But Fred could not withstand the pain or thought of it and as the whip cracked down on his flesh again Fred let out another scream in pain as his body arched as much as it could in the restraints. His mind reeled and the pain was so intense that Fred didn’t even hear Alecto ordering him to count, again.
After she'd beat him to near unconsciousness - it was taking less and less time each time - she walked over to his arm and placed a very gentle hand on the fresh burn. "Welcome," she said softly.
Then, it was back to business, again, cracking the whip as his near-limp body jerked with the contact. She watched him, listened to the screams, and finally whispered, "Crucio" until she was certain the taut form was good and well unconscious. Without bothering to loose up the restraints, she left. Tomorrow was another day.