[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෴
At first he can't react to the intrusion of his psyche with anything more than shock, followed by fear, concern, revulsion. What were they doing to her? Was it that demon again? What was he doing to her? Even without her being able to answer the images are enough, sickeningly blending in with her memories of... himself. Them, together, in their closest moments. He desperately reaches back, tries to tell her to hold on, he's coming, that he'll find her and--
She's gone.
Yet he won't give up. So long as he can maintain it, he'll keep trying to keep his mind open to hers, to desperately try to reach her as if even a glimpse of contact might offer him some clue as to where to find her.]
[There is no answer to his attempts at communion for the first few hours. Not the feeling of being shut out, or rejected... but the lack of anyone able to answer. Whether that was via unconsciousness, death, or leaving Kenos... Who knew.
At least she wasn't screaming anymore?
From a certain point, though... the response becomes "rejection", and not "absence". First hazy and confused, just a few minutes where it might seem like they'll connect, but then... A mind shut down so tight no message will get through, no matter who or what it was, with no indication as to why.
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leicesters) wrote2022-12-06 08:26 pm
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.]
no subject
At first he can't react to the intrusion of his psyche with anything more than shock, followed by fear, concern, revulsion. What were they doing to her? Was it that demon again? What was he doing to her? Even without her being able to answer the images are enough, sickeningly blending in with her memories of... himself. Them, together, in their closest moments. He desperately reaches back, tries to tell her to hold on, he's coming, that he'll find her and--
She's gone.
Yet he won't give up. So long as he can maintain it, he'll keep trying to keep his mind open to hers, to desperately try to reach her as if even a glimpse of contact might offer him some clue as to where to find her.]
no subject
At least she wasn't screaming anymore?
From a certain point, though... the response becomes "rejection", and not "absence". First hazy and confused, just a few minutes where it might seem like they'll connect, but then... A mind shut down so tight no message will get through, no matter who or what it was, with no indication as to why.
Until...]