10-30-2016, 06:37 PM
((Um. Trigger warning. Just a whole lot of trigger warning, okay? This post is pretty fucked up, so...sorry in advance.))
Pain became so much more when the dark god wrapped himself around Quark, dampening her body’s hard-won ability to heal itself. He was a connoisseur of torment, and he wasted no time on niceties. Not after she taunted him so, grim satisfaction on her face as she delivered her last little blow: “She didn’t come back for you.” She watched the words sink in, watched the idle uncaring expression warp to something twisted and malevolent. He stalked toward her, crimson eyes glittering with malice as he stepped closer. Darkness closed around her and agony engulfed her.
By the time she came back to herself, her throat was raw from screaming. It felt like only moments, like hours, like years, an infinity looped in on itself until every second was an eon and geological eras were condensed into the span of heartbeats. Her body was spent, utterly exhausted, numb from an eternity of excruciating pain, and she slumped against the wall of...a cave? A cave, cold and damp and echoing, vast and empty like her world before the dark god dragged her to hell. Oh, but the cold was welcome against her skin, skin she’d thought had been flayed away, but he must have let it regrow. She couldn’t do it herself, not when he held her powers in check, but he seemed to get a sick little thrill from forcing her body to renew itself so he could continue his torment. She drew in a slow, shaky breath as she rested her face against the cool rock, and couldn’t even find the energy to look up when she heard the clip clop, clip clop of approaching hooves.
After all, who else could it be?
She had just enough of herself left that she could feel it as he reached into her mind and rifled around, but there was nothing to find there. No trace of anyone she might have loved because she’d cut them all away. The cold, methodical invasion continued, a dirty, clammy caress to parts of her no one was meant to touch. Fingers invading, probing inside her chest, slicking along the surface of her heart and slipping inside to explore. Hands clutching her soul and holding it down, spreading it open and baring it to the dark that thrust its way in to seek out any trace, anything rooted too deep to be sliced free. She could almost feel his rush of satisfaction as he left traces of his essence inside her and withdrew.
And then lips touched her neck, velvet soft and desperately familiar. Oh, her body remembered, even if her mind could not. She sighed, tilting her head to give her lover better access, moaning as teeth scraped along sensitive skin. Shuddering as hair prickled along the back of her neck and down her spine, a tingle of something not quite right. But a familiar body pressed against hers, and the musky, earthy scent of her lady wrapped itself around her and consumed her. Fire burned in her belly, spreading through her veins, ravenous after so long apart (why had they ever been apart?) and she opened her eyes to meet her lover’s golden gaze. But the eyes looking back at her were dark crimson and full of hate, and a sick, strange light that turned the fire in her blood to ice in an instant. The face was familiar, rich brown sliced through with a scythe-shaped scar about one eye, tarnished silver forelock trailing down to frame features she would know in any lifetime even if the name was gone, even if the memories were erased. But the eyes weren’t those of an almost-forgotten love.
She tried to fight his touch, but he held her frozen by the ice in her veins as he tainted everything she’d ever held sacred. He wore that perfect face and violated what was left of her love as he violated her body. She couldn’t even scream, couldn’t even buck and kick and skewer him with spikes as she’d done once before, to a sick old man who’d stolen her innocence. She could only twist in on herself and cut away the last of her memories, destroying the pain and the horror and the sick feeling twisting her insides the same way she’d severed ties to those she’d loved. By the time he finished, she was nothing but an empty shell, vacant mismatched eyes staring off into the distance. The dark god’s laughter echoed in her head as the world shook and quaked and began to devour itself.
Pyre woke with a gasp, his traitorous body shaking and lathered in sweat. He shuddered violently, his body wrestling with its own inability to vomit even as all trace of the dream vanished, leaving nothing but nausea and a desperate need for a swim. He wanted to wash himself, to bathe in the swift current even if it felt like he’d never be clean again. Just a nightmare, he told himself as he clambered to his feet, shaking himself to try to get rid of the lingering remnants of already-forgotten horror. With a snort, he set out to find a river and wash away the sweat and the scent and the sick feeling in his gut, and the restless need to shift, to change his body to suit who he was instead of this garishly-painted female form he was stuck in. It had never felt more uncomfortable, for some reason...
((I would prefer points rather than a Halloween Surprise, since Q’s already pretty drowning in shinies and could use like eighty-five points yet before she has all her mojo back. The dark god referenced was (probably obviously) Carnage, and all of this is basically flashback nightmares to her torture from juuuuust before the Reckoning. Q woke afterward with no memory of who she was, and named herself Pyre. And also woke male because her body didn’t want to be female after what Carnage did to her, so. Thus the name/pronoun discrepancy.))
Pain became so much more when the dark god wrapped himself around Quark, dampening her body’s hard-won ability to heal itself. He was a connoisseur of torment, and he wasted no time on niceties. Not after she taunted him so, grim satisfaction on her face as she delivered her last little blow: “She didn’t come back for you.” She watched the words sink in, watched the idle uncaring expression warp to something twisted and malevolent. He stalked toward her, crimson eyes glittering with malice as he stepped closer. Darkness closed around her and agony engulfed her.
By the time she came back to herself, her throat was raw from screaming. It felt like only moments, like hours, like years, an infinity looped in on itself until every second was an eon and geological eras were condensed into the span of heartbeats. Her body was spent, utterly exhausted, numb from an eternity of excruciating pain, and she slumped against the wall of...a cave? A cave, cold and damp and echoing, vast and empty like her world before the dark god dragged her to hell. Oh, but the cold was welcome against her skin, skin she’d thought had been flayed away, but he must have let it regrow. She couldn’t do it herself, not when he held her powers in check, but he seemed to get a sick little thrill from forcing her body to renew itself so he could continue his torment. She drew in a slow, shaky breath as she rested her face against the cool rock, and couldn’t even find the energy to look up when she heard the clip clop, clip clop of approaching hooves.
After all, who else could it be?
She had just enough of herself left that she could feel it as he reached into her mind and rifled around, but there was nothing to find there. No trace of anyone she might have loved because she’d cut them all away. The cold, methodical invasion continued, a dirty, clammy caress to parts of her no one was meant to touch. Fingers invading, probing inside her chest, slicking along the surface of her heart and slipping inside to explore. Hands clutching her soul and holding it down, spreading it open and baring it to the dark that thrust its way in to seek out any trace, anything rooted too deep to be sliced free. She could almost feel his rush of satisfaction as he left traces of his essence inside her and withdrew.
And then lips touched her neck, velvet soft and desperately familiar. Oh, her body remembered, even if her mind could not. She sighed, tilting her head to give her lover better access, moaning as teeth scraped along sensitive skin. Shuddering as hair prickled along the back of her neck and down her spine, a tingle of something not quite right. But a familiar body pressed against hers, and the musky, earthy scent of her lady wrapped itself around her and consumed her. Fire burned in her belly, spreading through her veins, ravenous after so long apart (why had they ever been apart?) and she opened her eyes to meet her lover’s golden gaze. But the eyes looking back at her were dark crimson and full of hate, and a sick, strange light that turned the fire in her blood to ice in an instant. The face was familiar, rich brown sliced through with a scythe-shaped scar about one eye, tarnished silver forelock trailing down to frame features she would know in any lifetime even if the name was gone, even if the memories were erased. But the eyes weren’t those of an almost-forgotten love.
She tried to fight his touch, but he held her frozen by the ice in her veins as he tainted everything she’d ever held sacred. He wore that perfect face and violated what was left of her love as he violated her body. She couldn’t even scream, couldn’t even buck and kick and skewer him with spikes as she’d done once before, to a sick old man who’d stolen her innocence. She could only twist in on herself and cut away the last of her memories, destroying the pain and the horror and the sick feeling twisting her insides the same way she’d severed ties to those she’d loved. By the time he finished, she was nothing but an empty shell, vacant mismatched eyes staring off into the distance. The dark god’s laughter echoed in her head as the world shook and quaked and began to devour itself.
Pyre woke with a gasp, his traitorous body shaking and lathered in sweat. He shuddered violently, his body wrestling with its own inability to vomit even as all trace of the dream vanished, leaving nothing but nausea and a desperate need for a swim. He wanted to wash himself, to bathe in the swift current even if it felt like he’d never be clean again. Just a nightmare, he told himself as he clambered to his feet, shaking himself to try to get rid of the lingering remnants of already-forgotten horror. With a snort, he set out to find a river and wash away the sweat and the scent and the sick feeling in his gut, and the restless need to shift, to change his body to suit who he was instead of this garishly-painted female form he was stuck in. It had never felt more uncomfortable, for some reason...
((I would prefer points rather than a Halloween Surprise, since Q’s already pretty drowning in shinies and could use like eighty-five points yet before she has all her mojo back. The dark god referenced was (probably obviously) Carnage, and all of this is basically flashback nightmares to her torture from juuuuust before the Reckoning. Q woke afterward with no memory of who she was, and named herself Pyre. And also woke male because her body didn’t want to be female after what Carnage did to her, so. Thus the name/pronoun discrepancy.))