[not arguing, just firm. you have your instructions. are you going to follow them?
she's starting to wake up. she's afraid, trying not to show it, to keep a brave face, but there's something else. she's watching wis'adel's face, obviously some thoughts working in her mind, trying to make sense of something.]
[she's never been particularly reverent to authority, is the thing. that's just ingrained, even if she doesn't remember shit.
wiš'adel spins the knife in her hand as she approaches the woman, looking her over.]
Where to start with you...
[the blade traces her cheek, first. this is just an evaluation, her head tilted as she watches it-- testing its sharpness, estimating how she'll need to wield her chosen tool.]
[she studies the woman's face intently. she sounds worried enough, sure, but--
practice, isn't it. it seems likely this would be a test, if she's practicing. and if she failed before-- was it because she believed too easily in a lie? (how would she know a lie? she doesn't know the truth.)
what she does know: she's being watched. she has orders to carry out. it's not hard to guess what might happen, if she doesn't do that.
even so, she pulls the knife away from theresa's face.]
I'd do anything you needed! Just tell me what these people want!
[she doesn't seem to like that, but she also seems to have absolutely no idea what you're trying to get her to do or say. she's confused, more than anything.
but then the woman's hand is on wis'adel's shoulder, and there's an air of disapproval.]
You aren't doing this correctly.
[which is not very fair. you were not given very specific instructions here, but something about what you're doing still isn't good enough.]
I will have to show you myself.
[wis'adel will feel herself freeze suddenly, as though her body is paralyzed; she can't move or struggle. the woman takes wis'adel's hand and will slam it down on the table with all of the medical instruments, spread out. and then she takes a knife, the metal of it heated hot enough to burn, and drives it directly through her hand.
[so is wiš'adel-- what else would she do? she isn't immune to pain. she can't do anything about this, either, it's not enough it's not enough--
but that sparks something else. it really isn't very fair, is it. she wasn't given much instruction, has no idea what she's supposed to get theresa to say, and who is this woman to tell her she's doing it wrong? who is she to tell her anything, who is she to hurt her for it (really, who are any of them, and for that matter who is wiš'adel?)
she wants nothing more in that moment, paralyzed as she is, than to yank the knife right out of her hand and drive it into the one who put it there. make her regret it. show her what she gets for fucking around with her like this.]
[despite everything, she does feel that the woman is proud of her for her anger, but can't encourage it. it's hard to hear what's going on, but another masked individual is taking over where they left off, with the woman in the chair, who is still screaming. she can't tell what else is being said.
she's being dragged away, back through the temple, where there will be much more pain and punishment waiting for her, where she'll be hurt and then thrown into an isolated cell until hse regrets not obeying.
...she wakes up, gazing at a cloudy purple mirror. she doesn't remember anything. she doesn't even recall a name. only snippets of a dream where she was alone and unable to protect herself, before she was brought someplace safe. and even though she doesn't remember this place or the people, it feels familiar. it feels that she has been here for some time.
she feels as though he hasn't eaten recently, she's weak with exhaustion, and she's in pain. there are bruises and scars on her body from wounds that seem to have been healed with magic but still burn. there's also a black, circle-like wound on the back of her hand.
just as before, the memories are gone, but the feelings remain behind. you said how she was feeling. rage. but she doesn't know who that rage was directed at, who she wanted to hurt. anything else?]
[rage and a sense of vengeance, with a lingering feeling of-- something not being right. not in the sense of being unsettled, but that there's something about the world that needs to be corrected, that she needs to correct, it's just that she has no idea what it is. the violence that's always been a part of her, in her very blood.
right now she is, more than anything, a gun with nothing to aim at. a knife in need of something to cut. in either case: a weapon just as likely to turn on its wielder just for something to do, someone to hurt.]
[she is led back to the same room as before. the same woman is still in there. the situation is a little more permanent now; she has an altar, a round, flat, stone disc, that she's been chained to with chains made with magic. and she's been through it, beaten, hurt, tortured. by someone other than you. (or maybe it was you, and you don't remember? how would you know?) otherwise, same situation, same tools. same person in a hood and mask.
...not that wis'adel knows, because she doesn't remember that, either. she also does not know this person. there is not a flicker of recognition.]
You're still learning. But you need to make her scream. You need to hurt her.
[ah, the altar. a different wiš'adel, one who remembered, would be sickened and enraged by seeing it-- qalid'čoa impassively describing what happened. "the present of sarkaz needed her to die. the future of sarkaz needed her to live. she was a sacrifice to the myriad souls, to kazdel, to all the past and future sarkaz."
but she doesn't, now. she doesn't know her. she doesn't care. make her scream-- yeah, she'd like that. it won't sate her, but maybe it'll help take the edge off.
maybe it's something stuck under the surface that makes her choose this, something she remembers only subconsciously that leads her to sink the blade right into one of theresa's hands.]
but, and it's just so unfair, but as soon as she does, the wound on wis'adel's hand also flares with pain. the feeling of a knife going into theresa's hand triggers the same feeling in her.]
[she hisses in pain as she feels that stab, yanking the knife back out. the woman is screaming. that's what she was supposed to do, right? so why is she being hurt for this?
anger flares in her, and she drives the knife back in. again. try it again.]
[good, huh... well. at least it's something. it's somewhere to aim the blade that she is.
she doesn't have anything to grieve, without knowing anything about herself-- but she can make this woman regret whatever she's done to get here.
i'm just gonna tell you now that this will continue, regardless of any pain feedback she might get. she's good at this, at harming someone without letting them die.]
[good. we don't have to roleplay it all out, then. the woman will scream, try to remind wis'adel who she is, ask her to stop. but after she finishes her work, she will be led back to a barracks.
she was so enthusiastic that she's not locked in. and there is a guy waiting in there as well.]
Wow. It's one thing to comply, no one likes a beating, but you really do take it to another level.
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holyspirits) wrote2025-02-23 02:30 pm
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[not arguing, just firm. you have your instructions. are you going to follow them?
she's starting to wake up. she's afraid, trying not to show it, to keep a brave face, but there's something else. she's watching wis'adel's face, obviously some thoughts working in her mind, trying to make sense of something.]
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[she's never been particularly reverent to authority, is the thing. that's just ingrained, even if she doesn't remember shit.
wiš'adel spins the knife in her hand as she approaches the woman, looking her over.]
Where to start with you...
[the blade traces her cheek, first. this is just an evaluation, her head tilted as she watches it-- testing its sharpness, estimating how she'll need to wield her chosen tool.]
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Wis'adel? What's happening? Who are these people?
[she seems to know you. even though you absolutely do not know who she is.]
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[she lets that knife dig deeper, brow furrowing. how-- she doesn't know this woman, so why does she know her name?]
If that's what you want, then I've got one. Who're you?
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You don't recognize me, do you? What have they done to you?
[her tone is worried, but somehow it's clear she's worried for your sake.]
Theresa. Please, try to remember.
1/2
practice, isn't it. it seems likely this would be a test, if she's practicing. and if she failed before-- was it because she believed too easily in a lie? (how would she know a lie? she doesn't know the truth.)
what she does know: she's being watched. she has orders to carry out. it's not hard to guess what might happen, if she doesn't do that.
even so, she pulls the knife away from theresa's face.]
cw threats of self harm
[she can test people too, you know? wiš'adel doesn't need any memories for that.
theresa says she knows her, and she doesn't know if it's a bluff, and so she thinks: all right. i'll call.
the knife comes to rest on her own arm, blade digging just deep enough for blood to trickle down.]
I wonder just what you'd do for me, Theresa.
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[she doesn't seem to like that, but she also seems to have absolutely no idea what you're trying to get her to do or say. she's confused, more than anything.
but then the woman's hand is on wis'adel's shoulder, and there's an air of disapproval.]
You aren't doing this correctly.
[which is not very fair. you were not given very specific instructions here, but something about what you're doing still isn't good enough.]
I will have to show you myself.
[wis'adel will feel herself freeze suddenly, as though her body is paralyzed; she can't move or struggle. the woman takes wis'adel's hand and will slam it down on the table with all of the medical instruments, spread out. and then she takes a knife, the metal of it heated hot enough to burn, and drives it directly through her hand.
theresa is screaming now.]
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but that sparks something else. it really isn't very fair, is it. she wasn't given much instruction, has no idea what she's supposed to get theresa to say, and who is this woman to tell her she's doing it wrong? who is she to tell her anything, who is she to hurt her for it (really, who are any of them, and for that matter who is wiš'adel?)
she wants nothing more in that moment, paralyzed as she is, than to yank the knife right out of her hand and drive it into the one who put it there. make her regret it. show her what she gets for fucking around with her like this.]
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she's being dragged away, back through the temple, where there will be much more pain and punishment waiting for her, where she'll be hurt and then thrown into an isolated cell until hse regrets not obeying.
...she wakes up, gazing at a cloudy purple mirror. she doesn't remember anything. she doesn't even recall a name. only snippets of a dream where she was alone and unable to protect herself, before she was brought someplace safe. and even though she doesn't remember this place or the people, it feels familiar. it feels that she has been here for some time.
she feels as though he hasn't eaten recently, she's weak with exhaustion, and she's in pain. there are bruises and scars on her body from wounds that seem to have been healed with magic but still burn. there's also a black, circle-like wound on the back of her hand.
just as before, the memories are gone, but the feelings remain behind. you said how she was feeling. rage. but she doesn't know who that rage was directed at, who she wanted to hurt. anything else?]
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right now she is, more than anything, a gun with nothing to aim at. a knife in need of something to cut. in either case: a weapon just as likely to turn on its wielder just for something to do, someone to hurt.]
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...not that wis'adel knows, because she doesn't remember that, either. she also does not know this person. there is not a flicker of recognition.]
You're still learning. But you need to make her scream. You need to hurt her.
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but she doesn't, now. she doesn't know her. she doesn't care. make her scream-- yeah, she'd like that. it won't sate her, but maybe it'll help take the edge off.
maybe it's something stuck under the surface that makes her choose this, something she remembers only subconsciously that leads her to sink the blade right into one of theresa's hands.]
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but, and it's just so unfair, but as soon as she does, the wound on wis'adel's hand also flares with pain. the feeling of a knife going into theresa's hand triggers the same feeling in her.]
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[she hisses in pain as she feels that stab, yanking the knife back out. the woman is screaming. that's what she was supposed to do, right? so why is she being hurt for this?
anger flares in her, and she drives the knife back in. again. try it again.]
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Well done. You can endure.
[approval! keep going, then?]
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wiš'adel twists the blade, this time, before pulling it free; she hilts it in theresa's shoulder next.]
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she doesn't have anything to grieve, without knowing anything about herself-- but she can make this woman regret whatever she's done to get here.
i'm just gonna tell you now that this will continue, regardless of any pain feedback she might get. she's good at this, at harming someone without letting them die.]
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she was so enthusiastic that she's not locked in. and there is a guy waiting in there as well.]
Wow. It's one thing to comply, no one likes a beating, but you really do take it to another level.
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[does she know this guy? even if she doesn't, she's finding somewhere to sit and kick her feet up. her hands still have blood on them.]
If you wanna be next, I can arrange that.
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No thanks. I always enjoy you the least on the first day after they erase your memories.
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Why do you give a shit, anyway.
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They do it to you a lot more than the rest of us. No idea why, since I cause trouble and you're always so happy to do what you're told.
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[but what else is she supposed to do? (if he's not full of shit, if they are friends of some sort, has she ever asked that question?)
her tail lashes, annoyed.]
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