Comments | croquetgrounds: Closed;

population_ctrl in croquetgrounds

Closed;

May 19, 2010 12:09

[ Characters ] Mireille Duroc (unreadability) and Jean Louis Duroc (population_ctrl).
[ Location ] Their house in Childreams.
[ Date/Time ] 18.04, morning.
[ Warning ] Mentions of gore and violence.
[ Content ] What is this, really, if not the morning after?

( Sadly, we have run out of poetry, Madame... )

Comments 4

unreadability May 19 2010, 10:42:07 UTC

She is lying on her right side, her left wrist cradled to her chest, fingers forming a loose fist. The insistent pounding has subdued; become a scorching heat as the joint has swelled to twice its usual size. Mireille doesn’t mind too much anymore. It’s easy to disregard, in comparison to the sharp pain in her face where her lip has continued to spring up all through the night, from the slightest of movements. Not to mention… She tries to pretend that her body ends above her navel ( ... )

population_ctrl May 19 2010, 11:20:03 UTC

He doesn't wonder at her lack of reaction, unable to imagine how she's supposed to react to him now and, more importantly, unable to care. If he could throw her out of the house, make her walk that path she was so desperate for last night, he would. He thinks. On the other hand...

On the other hand, her gaze is so emptyChin clenching, the movement slightly painful, the skin on the left side of his face still blue and sore, he stops next to her. For a moment, he doesn't look at her, staring right ahead, the morning sun leaving traces of shadows on the walls on the other side of the room. It's not that he can't look at her - though he hasn't, for hours and hours. But he feels like doing anything with her requires some sort of investment. Something he's run out of ( ... )

unreadability May 20 2010, 06:36:53 UTC

His hand on her shoulder… Mireille’s instinctual reaction is to shy away, but she has no energy for it, not physically and not mentally either, so she simply allows the touch. Her eyes stay firmly shut, the darkness on the backside of her eyelids soft and brown. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to, and at this point, she isn’t sure she does. In the state she is in now, who knows what she would be dreaming of?

Then he speaks, and everything in her stops. His voice is hard, and all she can see in her mind is the ceiling above her rocking in time with his thrusts. Her entire body tenses up, the pain from her aching abdominal muscles raking through her and making her lips tremble. Slightly. Though visibly. She knows.

He is going to bore another hole in her. It’s the only conclusion she can draw, slowly rolling onto her back, wincing at the stinging pain in the skin stretching over her spine. He is going to destroy even more of the nothingness in her, claiming it to be his as he conquers her, bit by bit. It’s how it has to be, she ( ... )

population_ctrl May 20 2010, 07:49:19 UTC

She rolls over and parts her legs and he pulls his hand away, every nerve in his body flaring with ice, his eyes widening despite himself. For a moment, a surge of nausea threatens to double him over and he has to fight not to take a step back, another and another, and leave her to this, to whatever is left inside of her. Scenes are flashing through his mind with increasing speed, thoughts stumbling over each other. No clarity. He still doesn't remember everything that happened ( ... )