1 Lechery and Superbia [Maikeru/Private] Sat Jul 28, 2018 2:34 am
Kyorinrin
D-rank
"I left the House of Wolves-- for this?"
Heat rained down on them like the breath of hell. The scorched sand shimmered in the intense white rays of the sun.Their hats cocooned their heads in warm sweat, the arid heat burnt at their lungs. Nothing and no-one moved in this penetrating heat unless they were desperate, and they were.
Just like hell, there was no escape from this inferno.
Bound and gagged with a dirty cloth, Kyorinrin struggled over the broad shoulder of her captor, his posse's upside grins en tout. With every coarse step of sand, the dust they kicked up almost always made it's way into her eyes. The hallmark of this hell hole were the towers of glass warbling in the distance, and the harsh smell of linoleum from cheap, burning tarps. They were approaching what looked like a large, encampment of dusty tents and disheveled men. Though she could not speak, she struggled against the man's shoulder. Grunting through the fabric as it sucked the moisture out of her mouth and chafed her teeth.
All around the camp, the men watched non-chalantly as he dropped her petite frame, picked her up, and carried on his merry way. Were they not going to help her? Was this the way of this lawless land?
The muggy heat pressed in on them, even sweating was no good. It trickled down their necks and backs like warm soup. Kyorinrin's hair clung to her head like a thermal blanket, locking in the heat, frying her brains. the sand was hot enough to fry an egg. It was high noon and the sun beat down with unrestrained brutality, a few withering cacti cast patches of pathetic shade onto the baked earth.
They brought to a structure who's integrity seemed more structurely sound. It served as, what looked like, the citadel of the camp. So much so, that she was relieved to feel the air-conditioning hit her. They carried her into the basement. She was on her feet now, and they dragged against every step it took to get to the ground floor. They sat her in a sitting position and chained her to the wall. The other men had left her and captor to themselves; he stared at her for a moment and smiled. The dim light made your fair skin sparkle and glow.
"I'm glad I have you forever now."
She finally spit the cloth out, gasping for clean air. "H-how dare you, you obsessed son of a bitch!"
"I wouldn't call it obsessed, I'd call it destiny."
Hands bound and at rock bottom, she sucked in her breathe and spit at the man. "Oh sweetheart, you're such a card." He sang as Rin stared silently, glaring at him, bound in her chains at his feet. "Do you know what happens when my pets act out of line?--" he paused, giving Rin a knowing look. She exhaled through her nose in frustration. He stared at her silently, as if debating whether to seriously maim her or not.
He slowly trailed away, out of site in a room to her far left. She looked around. Other than the noise of the generator, the room was a silent concrete box. Rin craned her neck for a window, there were none. If she didn't know better she'd think she was deep underground, in some random room in a isolated prison or in someone's personal cell. Above the only source of light was an old fashioned bulb on a bare white wire and its switch was nowhere to be seen. There was something amateurish about the way the concrete walls had been set. The angles weren't quite right and there was a roughness to the texture. Her money was on this being someone's personal homemade jail cell and that could either be far preferable or very, very bad.
Then there was scream. It was primal. It had a raw intensity to it that told of urgency, of desperate need. The scream was pain put into the air, writ large for anyone who cared to help end it. Out came another woman, dragged by blonde locks and thrown besides Rin. She cried, but all she got was a slap as a reward. Sending her mind into a spasm of desperation until the inevitable shut down response. Rin looked closer. She was missing toes. Or rather, they'd been cut off. When Rin at the man, her heart was in her mouth, all the warmth her body had seemed to flee. She felt like her breath had been taken away. In his hand was the cold-blade responsible for the severance, swathed in freshly-drawn blood.
And that when she started struggling against her chains, if she could just form a handsign.
"--Ahem, this is what happens." She started to scream. Scream with all her might. Her cries went unanswered, and she knew it wasn't because she was out of earshot. She was alone. Perhaps this was atonement for what she'd done.
"Fate is so ironic."
860/860