• Closed • Fixation

[Inali]

The breaks passed by slowly, and Inali felt her muscles stiffen in the cold. Her fingertips had stopped twitching halfway through nine breaks. In between the images, the ecstasy, and the brief glimpses of the void, Inali wondered about the reason she had been chosen. The idea kept floating away and her musings recursed until she was left with little more than the initial question. She recalled the citizens of Ne’haer speaking on Rhakros. Images of a shrugging merchant, a wide eyed chef, and a scorning priestess filled her mind. Even the passionate chef had little to say on the city. They had all heard of the city, but only the priestess had visited. Bitterness echoed through her skull and rippled down her arms. Spikes of pain stabbed into her wrists as more of the dark images flashed on the insides of her eyelids. The eidisi gritted her teeth in frustration and small sheets of the dried blood on her mouth cracked and fell onto the dais. It was becoming more difficult to focus on the dwindling pleasure that the antidote provided her. Pain had filled in the cracks and flourished within her body, sprouting in her stomach, the area behind her right eye, and in her shins. Instinctively, she pulled at the straps that held her wrists down. Her right arm stayed pinned to the stone while her left arm simply floated. Damn antidote. Not falling for that again. As her arm fell back onto the dais, Inali opened her eyes wide at the sensation. She was free.

Her void white eyes widened at the athame that was held loosely in her grasp. It had nearly fallen in her struggle and she gripped it tightly now, with the understanding that it was her lifeline. She had pushed the truth of the situation to the back of her mind for the last three breaks. The knowledge that the antidote was slowly killing her was not something she intended to spend her last few thoughts on. With the appearance of the dagger, it was acceptable to focus on the future once more. The path was clear. She would free the bindings around her waist first, then her other arm. From there, she could hack away at the one securing her head.

Inali shook her head lightly to stop the pain in her shin. It was a cheap trick, and the pain was not so easily banished. Her leg throbbed and twitched as she sawed at the leather strap just below her floating ribs. It took her two bits to get through the first layer of hide. The strap underneath was more taut and the tension helped the blade cut through the leather in half the time. A breath escaped her lips at the sudden freedom and her sore left wrist trembled uncontrollably. She allowed herself another five bits for her muscles to acclimate to the sensation of moving those precious few inches. Holding in a breath, Inali twisted at her waist and shifted slightly, forcing her ride side to dig into the dais. She was held by the strap at her head and her neck protested the twisting movement with additional sunbursts of pain and flashing images of teeth. She moved by instinct, sawing at the second set of straps until both of her hands were free. The head strap took only a few bits more, and the thigh and ankle straps quickly followed.

She was free, but the pain had increased noticeably since she had sat up. The sensations that had been confined to her extremities needled at her torso, promising imminent and debilitating pain within a break or less. She struggled to clear her mind and mumbled something underneath her breath in the ancient tongue. “Fight or flight.” How many times had she heard the phrase in her classes? How many times had she scoffed at the phrase, believing herself too good for such scenarios? Her heartbeat quickened within her chest as her eyes scanned the desolate chamber. The dais and a single doorway were the only notable features, and she was troubled by the knowledge that her captors had not simply repurposed a space for her torture. This was all carefully planned, just as the appearance of the dagger had been. Somewhere beyond the door, they were waiting on her. They thought that she would die on the slab, drug addled, atrophying, and alone.

Her stiff muscles protested as she moved her legs to the edge of the dais. She pushed her hands against the stone, stood, and frowned at her trembling knees. The act of standing was a herculean feat, and she didn’t imagine walking would be any easier. Inali placed the athame on the dais and took careful, tiny steps towards the door. She was too weak to fight, even if she had known how to properly wield the damned blade. No. She knew that her only option was to run. The blood circulated within her slowly, pumping a small reserve of energy through her veins. Deadly chemicals moved within her as well, but she forced herself to focus only on the outline of the door. As her hand touched the cool metal of the handle, she repeated the mantra over and over. Run, survive. Just run, then survive. Her wrist twisted, pulling at the doorknob until the gap was open wide enough to see the world beyond. The eidisi floated through it, smiling lightly. Run, survive. Die off the dais if you must, but you won’t die alone. You promised that to Etzekax.

[Djinn]

"Seriously? You left the dagger?" The voice carried to her, simultaneously bored and incredulous. As she pushed through the stone door, she came to a large antechamber, a semi-circle of stone with three doors, aligned along the crescent. The fourth door, the one she came through, closed silently behind her. Positioned directly in front of the center door out of the complex, a young-looking man with brown hair and a pointed goatee sat in a chair, obviously out of place. At his feet, prostrated, a fiery-haired woman lied on the ground. Neither looked like they belonged, but they seemed so comfortable.

"I must say, I wasn't expecting that. I mean, honestly... Who gets freed from their captors and leaves their only means of defense in a sealed stone room?" The man couldn't fathom her reasons, whatever they were, but a sly grin pulled at the edges of his lips until they finally curled. He watched her, eyes staring into the crevices created in her psyche by the Mar Vuu beetle. From his feet, as if on instinct, the red-headed woman raised her eyes, hatred burning from the orbs. There was a flash of pity, shorter lived than Inali's freedom, before the baleful gaze melted her security.

"Shh, my pet. Lay your head." And she did. Mastes stood from the chair and shuffled free from Kata's grasp, stepping over pale hands that reached for his touch. A booted heel came down and crushed the fingers of her left hand, eliciting a whimper from Kata, but no more. Mastes, at his full height, stood as tall as the blue-skinned Eidisi, and as he drew close, he smelled of burning paper. His eyes gleamed in the dim light of the flickering candles. He reached out and, from thin air, pulled the athame.

"Don't you want to... Escape? To live? Do you have nothing to live for?" He smirked. "Or perhaps something is drawing you. Something more primal and innocent than escape. Vengeance? Survival? Desire?" He reached his empty hand out and brushed her cheek.

And her world warped. Her knees gave out and she was on the floor, swimming in the stone. Kata's face drew closer to hers, and her breath smelled metallic and sour. Tendrils of pleasure danced on Inali's skin, a smile drawn to her face instinctively. From above, the growing smile of Mastes radiated in her bliss, unlike any she'd felt. The drug she'd been given before paled in comparison, and this was her new meaning for existence. To remain in this state, that became her primary objective.

But then it was gone. The feeling, the happiness... The coldness of her world returned, and she knew that Mastes knew it. She could see it in his smug face. But she wasn't angry... She couldn't be. Instead, she craved him, she needed to touch him... To come in contact with his flesh once more. She would be released.

And he stepped away, offering her the athame from his hand. He gripped it by the blade, holding it to her hilt-first. "Just a small cut, and I'll help you get away from here. I'll help you survive... And importantly... I'll give you more." He didn't need to specify. The words were layered with honey, and Kata's gaze was drawn to him at the idea of 'more'. There Mastes held, frozen with a grin on his face. The Trickster Tyrant offered her the choice. And Kata hated her for it.

[Inali]

Inali grimaced as she pulled herself forward by her fingertips and elbows, bruising the tender flesh that housed a deadly toxin. Sharper pain came in waves, sawing at the tendons around her ribs before moving to her calves. The pattern of agony was seemingly random, and though the Eidisi felt no fear, her breaths came in short gasps that filled the blessed spaces between the pain. Her progress was infuriatingly slow, but the pain had yet to ground her. Inali banished thoughts of the dying and focused on the door that stood between her and the city of Rhakros. A violent cough shook her entire torso as her fingertips hooked around the bottom threshold of the door. The spasming in her lungs ended abruptly and she managed to catch most of the incredulous remark that filtered in through the door. Whoever awaited her in the next room spoke comfortably in the tongue of the Immortals and Inali grimaced at this. The noble concept of fight or flight fell rather flat when your adversaries found you as consequential as a fly on their boot. This thought was far more difficult to shake, and Inali bit down hard on her lip to chase the despair away.

Her anxiety melted away as she took in the contents of the room for the first time. Options were laid out before her and it was imperative that she considered each in turn. The cold logic of her kin prevailed over the pain as her eyes moved across the room, taking note of the three doors and the single chair that blocked her escape path. The man who had mocked her sat comfortably, watching her progress as he addressed her.

Inali didn’t hesitate to reply. She would only have a single break left with which to leave her mark on this world. If her journey from Viden had taught her anything at all, Inali had learned to speak her mind. Her opinions were not to be hidden away in the pages of a journal any longer. Her voice cracked slightly as another surge of pain caused her toes to curl,

“If we were to switch places, I’d hazard a guess that you’d see the futility in carrying a weapon as well.”

Perhaps not. Those who were inclined to fight held their weapons as if they could ward of any event with a masterful strike. In her arrogance, Inali doubted that any of them had felt such pain.

The man brushed off her comment with a smile that would have terrified her many arcs ago. Now, in place of her skin crawling, she was left with the feeling of being utterly trapped. Beneath him, the fiery haired woman at his feet stared too. Where the man was entertained, she was wholly consumed by rage. The eidisi flinched at this, suddenly understanding the wisdom in having any form of protection. A few trills later, the scene shifted again and Inali was only a few feet away from the duo. The scent of burning parchment filled the air and gooseflesh covered her arms, highlighting the anxiety and apprehension that had been building since she entered the room. The anthame appeared again in his hand and Inali shuddered once more, trying to push her palms in the ground to move backwards. Her efforts mattered little, as she gained only a few inches before the man spoke once more.

He taunted her with meaningless questions. Of course she wanted to live. It would be foolish to assume that anyone across Idalos wanted anything less. Then, the questioning became more nuanced. He spoke in grandiose terms, asking about vengeance and desire – demanding answers to questions she hadn’t contemplated – until now.

Inali tried to reply, but her voice died on her tongue as his hand brushed across her cheek. The eidisi crumpled into the cold stone only to find that the sensation of the stone across her burning skin was the panacea to all that ailed her. The sudden appearance of the woman did not cause Inali to hesitate this time. Instead, she reached out, almost close enough to touch the woman’s red hair… until the next sensation swept her away. The tidal wave of stimuli was all-encompassing. Her pride and happiness at all her achievements paled in comparison to the ecstasy that undulated across the length of her body. She was jubilant. Her entire body became a receptacle for light and pleasure and joy and nothing would ever feel better than this. Even in her blissful state, Inali knew the pain of loss. Nothing could ever compare.

Knowing the truth of her situation would have ripped her apart had the pleasure not been so intense. The sensations demanded fealty – and Inali let them have all of her, careless of anything and everything else.

And then, as quickly as it all began, Inali felt the loss that she had known would come. The stone floor dug into her knees as he regarded her with a look of superiority. He knew. He was the cause of all of this. The rage building within her was quenched by the knowledge that she could have the sensation once more… if she could only touch him. Inali reached out and felt the leather wrapped hilt of the blade fall into her hand.

The ask was simple. Conversely, the promise was layered in nuance, promising everything and nothing, all at once. The pain clouded her mind until there was nothing left to do but accept. For a quarter bit, Inali tried to resist. Her sluggish mind scrambled to think of a reason to say no. Even if it was a trap, she knew that the pain was progressing too quickly. The odds of her dying in this room were too great. She needed this. She needed him.

With her hand shaking, Inali rested the blade against her upper thigh and breathed in deeply. It took so little pressure to tear the fabric of her dress and slice open the skin below. Blood welled and spilled out of the wound staining her dress before more flowed onto the stone floor below. Had she cut too deep?

No. It didn’t matter. Inali dropped the dagger and looked up at the man, praying in a singular word that his promise had been genuine.

“Please.”