the third punishment

[faceofjustice]

An hour past dark, any door Tsia, Anders or Logan try to open will lead to the same blackened corridor. Inside, the Headsman waits, ever-sharp axe slung over his shoulder as he beckons them forward. Any attempt to fight or flee will be quickly silenced by the Headsman and the blunt side of his axe

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[3wayforjustice]

He could fight it. But what would be the point? They won't take his magic. They won't take his mind. They won't make him Tranquil. And that's the important part.

No one ever said the mage had his priorities in line.

He doesn't anticipate anyone barging in to save him. Nor does he particularly want it. He deserves this. This is justice, after all. He simply walks, his head high and his back straight. It isn't that he has any illusions this punishment will be easy, or painless. This is going to hurt like nothing before. And he may very well keel over during his captivity. But it isn't, in his opinion, the worst that could happen.

He just walks. And waits.

[faceofjustice]

When all else is ready, the Headsman stands by the second pair of stocks. In moment's they're open and waiting.

He nods toward Anders and then toward the wooden frame, his message clear.

[3wayforjustice]

He shuts his eyes for a moment, before he moves to take his coat off. Everything else on him is replaceable. But not the coat.

Once that's finished, he moves forward, stopping beside the frame, as indicated, looking to the Headsman.

[faceofjustice]

The Headsman says nothing - thought that shouldn't be a surprise to anyone - as he moves to secure Anders in place and lock the stocks.

Should the man submit, he'll deftly slice the shirt from his back with a spin and a flick of his axe.

[3wayforjustice]

He doesn't fight. He knows full well he deserves this. Although, when the shirt falls away, he's privately glad he removed his coat. At least one thing is going to come out of this unscathed.

Even Justice is quiet, for once. It's as if the spirit recognizes, on some strange level, that this is what needs to happen.

Still, Anders really isn't looking forward to this. He ends up shutting his eyes, out of reflex, going tense in the locked position.

[faceofjustice]

The Headsman takes up the pot of pine tar. It is hot - it needs to be - but not scaldingly so. He removes a brush from within the pot and begins to paint.

Up and down Anders's back, his sides, his arms, his neck, even two stripes across his cheeks. The Headsman piles the tar on thick, and as it begins to dry, it gets sticky.

[3wayforjustice]

That's... somewhat better than expected. For the moment, anyway. He'd thought the stuff would be boiling. Instead, it's only uncomfortable.

He curls his fingers into fists, waiting for the discomfort to turn painful. It has to. Sooner or later, it has to.

[faceofjustice]

It doesn't.

Oh it could have, had the Headsman used boiling tar, had Justice taken things one step further. Maybe anyone watching would realize this. Maybe they wouldn't.

To the Headsman, it did not matter. He had his orders. Those orders did not involve scalding and burns - at least not in Anders's case - just uncomfortably warm pine tar and feathers.

No, not feathers.

Fur.

Finished slathering on the thick liquid, the Headsman opened one of the sacks and unceremoniously upended it over Anders's back. Soft downy fur in half a hundred colours cascaded out and anyone with cat allergies in the vicinity would soon find themselves sneezing horribly.

It was not feathers that the Headsman intended to dress Anders in. It was kitten fur.

[3wayforjustice]

That... was also unexpected. Fur? Wasn't the punishment supposed to be involving feathers? Which would have been incredibly ironic, honestly. And where had this thing gotten so much of it?

He tried to move his hands to feel it -- to figure out exactly what it was he was being covered in. But to no avail. He'd have to wait.

The more pressing problem now, after all, was trying to figure out how to survive the next thirty-six hours. That, and getting this tar off his skin. A diversion, at least, from thinking about anything else.

[faceofjustice]

Once every inch of tarry skin was covered - including Anders' cheeks - the Headsman stepped back. One might almost be forgiven for thinking he was admiring his work. Then, without fanfare, the tarring supplies were collected together. The hooded figure vanished.

Anders had a little less than thirty-six hours to wait. That was, of course, if someone came to release him on time.