![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
47thlight.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: A Song for Legend
Prompt: 318 Appease
Character(s): Reidell and Mason Rogers
Pairing(s): Mason x Reidell
Genre(s): Drama/Tragedy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 949
Summary: She's being tortured to bring him in for a far worse fate - to witness a Legend die.
Notes: Drawing on inspiration from a collection of characters I've had in my mind for the past several years, but never got the chance to use. Fun to work with finally!
A Song for Legend
They told her to be quiet and to stop crying. She had no choice but to comply, the chain around her neck tugging her upwards to look at her oppressors through eyes bleeding tears.
“You’re worthless to us if you give up and die, Miss Rogers,” the domineering presence leering in the shadows said aloud. “Unless you’re alive and screaming, he’ll never find you.”
Her body shuddered when she tried to take in a deep, rejuvenating breath, but instead she coughed and wheezed in pain. Too many bones had been broken for her to even feel relatively soothed by the typically helpful remedy, let alone usher in a wave of hope. For hours they had beaten her and bloodied her, attempting to make her wail loud enough for a building to shatter. Her pain was all they wanted until her knight arrived.
“You can’t kill him…” she uttered before the blow across her cheek came. Her face was covered in blood and bruises, reflecting nothing of her former beauty.
The dark man tapped a finger on his arm rest and the persecution recommenced, as if the sounds of her agony were the lullaby his mother used to sing over his cradle. “All men perish, Miss Rogers. What makes you think your husband can cheat death?”
Seven kicks to the chest had her on her stomach, convulsions wracking her insides as her mouth opened to give voice to words, blood instead gushing out onto the floor. The man lifted his finger and the beating halted. “What’s that, Miss Rogers? You’ll have to speak up.”
Her arms no longer possessed the ability to suspend her body, but still they tried, shaking violently when her head turned to look at that finger that would soon demand more suffering. It was a taunting gesture, the finger the only human-like thing she could see of the man doing this to her. Faceless and demonic…
“His men that have served with him through the years have made him more than just a man. He’s a legend, and legends can’t die. So go on – torture me to the point that I don’t even know myself anymore. It may even be enough to lure him here, but if that’s the case, you’re all going to be silenced before you can regret what you’ve done.”
An unauthorized blow connected with her jaw, but the dark man’s finger still stood in the shadows, a spark igniting from the tip and instantly zapping the life out of the one who’d struck her. He never left his seat, however, and acted as collected as he was previously.
“You misunderstand me, Miss Rogers,” he said coolly, his men waiting for the signal to pummel their victim again. “I don’t have any regrets, only the desires to make men die. In your husband’s case – I want to see a legend destroy himself.”
He then waved his hand, the men stepping aside and leaving the crumbling woman to their master’s mercy. Eyes blurred with redness, she noticed him stand to his full height and steadily make his way towards her out of the shadows. Nothing clanked, rang or gave any sound of abnormality. Instead, standing in front of her was a man dressed so commonly, she’d originally thought him her own kin.
Something flashed across his eyes – a spark – and suddenly she felt a jolt of agony permeate her airways. She began to lacerate frantically on the floor, as if a deadly scourge was attacking her internal organs, cutting off the air she desperately needed to keep a clear mind.
The pain stopped for just a moment as her eyes met his in a contest of depleting hope versus placid arrogance. “And die he shall, Miss Rogers… he’ll die if it gives him the assurance that his beloved wife will stop screaming.”
A series of pulses that would have appeared as musical notes on a piece of paper then forced themselves into her body, causing rhythmic surges of excruciating abusive torture upon her nervous system. What he received in return was the melodic harmonies of her screams echoing along the walls and nearby corridors, satisfying him into giving a pleased smile.
“Yes my dear, that’s better. Terrorize his soul with the song of your peril. He’ll have no choice but to give into my demands for his own death.”
He directed his hand like a composer’s baton over her body that thrashed to and fro, mapping out a path for his demonic fire to continue following, as if it was flowing in the river of her bloodstream. Another chorus of cries came, pitches bouncing off the lasting echoes to create blood-curdling harmonies. The monster inside her was acting as if it was eating away her ability to block out pain, but it was doing far more damage than that.
“Sing for him, Miss Rogers. Sing for his death!”
An arrow shot through the stained glass window and barely nicked his shoulder, temporarily halting the devious ceremony to bid welcome to its honored guest. All eyes turned when the knight broke through what remained of the window, bow in his left hand and sword in his right.
“Reidell!” He shouted, hoping she was conscious to hear him. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m going to get you out of this place. Just hang on a little while longer.”
Her voice was gone, stolen by the screaming and by the pain swelling within her. It was like an invisible bulge, gathering together to wait for the moment it would be allowed to escape, and a host of tears poured from her eyes. So long as she was at this demon’s disposal, her husband couldn’t save her – or himself.
Prompt: 318 Appease
Character(s): Reidell and Mason Rogers
Pairing(s): Mason x Reidell
Genre(s): Drama/Tragedy
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 949
Summary: She's being tortured to bring him in for a far worse fate - to witness a Legend die.
Notes: Drawing on inspiration from a collection of characters I've had in my mind for the past several years, but never got the chance to use. Fun to work with finally!
They told her to be quiet and to stop crying. She had no choice but to comply, the chain around her neck tugging her upwards to look at her oppressors through eyes bleeding tears.
“You’re worthless to us if you give up and die, Miss Rogers,” the domineering presence leering in the shadows said aloud. “Unless you’re alive and screaming, he’ll never find you.”
Her body shuddered when she tried to take in a deep, rejuvenating breath, but instead she coughed and wheezed in pain. Too many bones had been broken for her to even feel relatively soothed by the typically helpful remedy, let alone usher in a wave of hope. For hours they had beaten her and bloodied her, attempting to make her wail loud enough for a building to shatter. Her pain was all they wanted until her knight arrived.
“You can’t kill him…” she uttered before the blow across her cheek came. Her face was covered in blood and bruises, reflecting nothing of her former beauty.
The dark man tapped a finger on his arm rest and the persecution recommenced, as if the sounds of her agony were the lullaby his mother used to sing over his cradle. “All men perish, Miss Rogers. What makes you think your husband can cheat death?”
Seven kicks to the chest had her on her stomach, convulsions wracking her insides as her mouth opened to give voice to words, blood instead gushing out onto the floor. The man lifted his finger and the beating halted. “What’s that, Miss Rogers? You’ll have to speak up.”
Her arms no longer possessed the ability to suspend her body, but still they tried, shaking violently when her head turned to look at that finger that would soon demand more suffering. It was a taunting gesture, the finger the only human-like thing she could see of the man doing this to her. Faceless and demonic…
“His men that have served with him through the years have made him more than just a man. He’s a legend, and legends can’t die. So go on – torture me to the point that I don’t even know myself anymore. It may even be enough to lure him here, but if that’s the case, you’re all going to be silenced before you can regret what you’ve done.”
An unauthorized blow connected with her jaw, but the dark man’s finger still stood in the shadows, a spark igniting from the tip and instantly zapping the life out of the one who’d struck her. He never left his seat, however, and acted as collected as he was previously.
“You misunderstand me, Miss Rogers,” he said coolly, his men waiting for the signal to pummel their victim again. “I don’t have any regrets, only the desires to make men die. In your husband’s case – I want to see a legend destroy himself.”
He then waved his hand, the men stepping aside and leaving the crumbling woman to their master’s mercy. Eyes blurred with redness, she noticed him stand to his full height and steadily make his way towards her out of the shadows. Nothing clanked, rang or gave any sound of abnormality. Instead, standing in front of her was a man dressed so commonly, she’d originally thought him her own kin.
Something flashed across his eyes – a spark – and suddenly she felt a jolt of agony permeate her airways. She began to lacerate frantically on the floor, as if a deadly scourge was attacking her internal organs, cutting off the air she desperately needed to keep a clear mind.
The pain stopped for just a moment as her eyes met his in a contest of depleting hope versus placid arrogance. “And die he shall, Miss Rogers… he’ll die if it gives him the assurance that his beloved wife will stop screaming.”
A series of pulses that would have appeared as musical notes on a piece of paper then forced themselves into her body, causing rhythmic surges of excruciating abusive torture upon her nervous system. What he received in return was the melodic harmonies of her screams echoing along the walls and nearby corridors, satisfying him into giving a pleased smile.
“Yes my dear, that’s better. Terrorize his soul with the song of your peril. He’ll have no choice but to give into my demands for his own death.”
He directed his hand like a composer’s baton over her body that thrashed to and fro, mapping out a path for his demonic fire to continue following, as if it was flowing in the river of her bloodstream. Another chorus of cries came, pitches bouncing off the lasting echoes to create blood-curdling harmonies. The monster inside her was acting as if it was eating away her ability to block out pain, but it was doing far more damage than that.
“Sing for him, Miss Rogers. Sing for his death!”
An arrow shot through the stained glass window and barely nicked his shoulder, temporarily halting the devious ceremony to bid welcome to its honored guest. All eyes turned when the knight broke through what remained of the window, bow in his left hand and sword in his right.
“Reidell!” He shouted, hoping she was conscious to hear him. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m going to get you out of this place. Just hang on a little while longer.”
Her voice was gone, stolen by the screaming and by the pain swelling within her. It was like an invisible bulge, gathering together to wait for the moment it would be allowed to escape, and a host of tears poured from her eyes. So long as she was at this demon’s disposal, her husband couldn’t save her – or himself.
