[Weeks after the Exalt Oracle had been claimed, in the middle of a perfect, lovely day, one in which it might seem nothing could go wrong at all... Hayame is screaming.
With no warning, no build, the equivalent of a sudden desperate, panicked pounding at the door, an attempt at Communion comes slamming into Claude's psyche. There are no words, no plea for help in anything but a jumbled, inarticulate, weak longing for it, (she can't, she can't, he'll die), but stronger is the vicious shame, the fear, the rage, rage brighter than a blazing sun ready to flare.
There's a scalpel glinting in the light, a pain deep in the skull spreading, spreading, something that should never be touched flayed raw and pulled out, on fire at every ending. An eye, sickly green, dangles between gloved fingers, but then it is a stormy grey eye, dangling by the slick and severed optic nerve between bloody fingers in the rubble of a city under siege with a beast in the sky. Claude's face, so close, his smile soft, his thumb tracing gently over her cheek below the hole where an eye used to be. There are sharp teeth smiling sadistically, the shadowy silhouette blurred by something hot and wet and a backing of bright lighting. She bites, iron flooding her mouth and pouring down her throat, but before she can choke on her own blood fingers grab her tongue, something hard and thick is forced into her mouth. Her dun flanks rise and fall slowly, Claude curled against her and moving ever so slightly along with her breathing. Ropes, straps, no matter how much she struggles she can't move, she can't fight, no, no, no, she doesn't want it, she doesn't want it and it doesn't matter, it hurts, it hurts, she wants to go home෴
mid-Iqnu (cw: torture, eye things)
With no warning, no build, the equivalent of a sudden desperate, panicked pounding at the door, an attempt at Communion comes slamming into Claude's psyche. There are no words, no plea for help in anything but a jumbled, inarticulate, weak longing for it, (she can't, she can't, he'll die), but stronger is the vicious shame, the fear, the rage, rage brighter than a blazing sun ready to flare.
There's a scalpel glinting in the light, a pain deep in the skull spreading, spreading, something that should never be touched flayed raw and pulled out, on fire at every ending. An eye, sickly green, dangles between gloved fingers, but then it is a stormy grey eye, dangling by the slick and severed optic nerve between bloody fingers in the rubble of a city under siege with a beast in the sky. Claude's face, so close, his smile soft, his thumb tracing gently over her cheek below the hole where an eye used to be. There are sharp teeth smiling sadistically, the shadowy silhouette blurred by something hot and wet and a backing of bright lighting. She bites, iron flooding her mouth and pouring down her throat, but before she can choke on her own blood fingers grab her tongue, something hard and thick is forced into her mouth. Her dun flanks rise and fall slowly, Claude curled against her and moving ever so slightly along with her breathing. Ropes, straps, no matter how much she struggles she can't move, she can't fight, no, no, no, she doesn't want it, she doesn't want it and it doesn't matter, it hurts, it hurts, she wants to go home෴
And then there's nothing.]