Ben Lockwood | OC | no smut | 4 | verse?werewolf_hackerFebruary 2 2012, 03:42:24 UTC
[Ben has no idea how long he's been here. Days? Weeks? Months? A... year? The room is windowless and dark, the only light coming in when They open the door to take him out of the too-small cage to subject him to more abuse and torture. They feed him at odd hours, intermittently, and badly.
He started off with panic attacks from the cage and the cuffs and the needle, of course. He has his buttons, after all, and those are three biggies. But it's not long before the cage and cuffs become shelter and refuge -- the only time They aren't hurting him, he's in the cage and wearing the cuffs, and the needle makes the pain stop. He's started to embrace the objects of his captivity rather than fighting them...]
[It's safer in the dark. When it's dark, no one's hurting him, no one's strapping him to a table or coming at him with silver or aconite or rowan, no one's clinically dictating his reactions into a recorder.
And, considering the fact that not a single person has done anything he's asked, threatened, begged them to do, since he got here, the fact that someone just did is huge. He relaxes, microscopically.] Oh, God. OhGodohGodohGod... is it over?
It's over, I'm here, I'm sorry . . . [Hot tears well up and spill over, and Guriel's surprised by them, because he stopped crying months ago, around the third or fourth time he came home spattered in blood to find Rachmiel waiting, wordless, hurting, helpless as Guri himself.
He stretches out a hand, desperately wanting to shoot back the bolts holding the cage closed, to tear the shackles loose. But scared to, because of what Ben was begging him to do, leave him in the cage . . .]
[Ben blinks, slowly, several times. There's a sliver of light coming in around the door where it's not shut all the way. Wings. The figure in front of him has wings. And no one has officiously come in demanding to know what's going on here.
It's me. It's really me. I'm here, it's over, I'm sorry . . . [That hand creeps forward like a glacier, agonizingly slow, until it's close enough for Ben to touch if he stretches out his fingers.] Ben. Ben, please . . .
[It's probably asking too much, part of him knows that, in a distant and numb and heartbroken way. But Ben is right there, so close Guriel can practically touch him, and right now that's all he wants is just to touch.]
[And Ben flinches away, because being touched means being hurt, being touched brings nothing but pain, being touched is something he doesn't get to have anymo--
But it's Guriel. It's really, truly him. Ben can smell that now, his nose coming back online as the aconite in his system finally wears off, even if he is covered in blood that's not his, that's him underneath it. And Guriel would never, ever hurt him.
Almost of their own accord, his fingers twitch outward and barely brush the backs of Guriel's knuckles, before they skitter away like frightened mice and go back to protecting the cuffs.] Guriel.
[And Guriel very nearly loses it right then and there, only a titanic act of will unlike anything he thought he was still capable of keeps him from just melting down.
He can't melt down. He has to hold it together, he has to get Ben out of here. Even if there's nothing left to take him back to; the quiet nearly-normal life they had is nothing but a distant memory. He has to hold it together for Ben.]
It's me. I came, I'm sorry, I'm sorry it took me so long, I looked, I tried, I'm sorry . . .
No, no, you can, I came to get you, I came to take you home. [To a house gone dark and silent and dead inside, just a hollow shell of what it used to be with only Guriel rattling around inside . . .]
[The thought of all that space and light is terrifying and gives him an atavistic response he really has no control over. Shivering, he hunches back into himself and makes that noise down in his throat again.] I can't-- [He shakes his head.]
It's a cage. [He curses himself as soon as he says it, the words come out raw and desperate and horrified, and the last thing Ben needs is to hear that kind of distress from him.
Even if he is so very, very, very distressed, horrified beyond measure, because after all his promises, this is still where his Pack ended up. In a cage.]
[And Ben flinches. Because he knows, deep down where it counts, that wanting the cage is all sorts of sick and wrong, but he can't help himself.] It's the only place I feel safe.
He started off with panic attacks from the cage and the cuffs and the needle, of course. He has his buttons, after all, and those are three biggies. But it's not long before the cage and cuffs become shelter and refuge -- the only time They aren't hurting him, he's in the cage and wearing the cuffs, and the needle makes the pain stop. He's started to embrace the objects of his captivity rather than fighting them...]
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And, considering the fact that not a single person has done anything he's asked, threatened, begged them to do, since he got here, the fact that someone just did is huge. He relaxes, microscopically.] Oh, God. OhGodohGodohGod... is it over?
Please.
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He stretches out a hand, desperately wanting to shoot back the bolts holding the cage closed, to tear the shackles loose. But scared to, because of what Ben was begging him to do, leave him in the cage . . .]
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That means...
He's not sure what that means.] Guriel?
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[It's probably asking too much, part of him knows that, in a distant and numb and heartbroken way. But Ben is right there, so close Guriel can practically touch him, and right now that's all he wants is just to touch.]
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But it's Guriel. It's really, truly him. Ben can smell that now, his nose coming back online as the aconite in his system finally wears off, even if he is covered in blood that's not his, that's him underneath it. And Guriel would never, ever hurt him.
Almost of their own accord, his fingers twitch outward and barely brush the backs of Guriel's knuckles, before they skitter away like frightened mice and go back to protecting the cuffs.] Guriel.
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He can't melt down. He has to hold it together, he has to get Ben out of here. Even if there's nothing left to take him back to; the quiet nearly-normal life they had is nothing but a distant memory. He has to hold it together for Ben.]
It's me. I came, I'm sorry, I'm sorry it took me so long, I looked, I tried, I'm sorry . . .
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[And then he whimpers.] I'm not sure I can.
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I came to find you. I promised.
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I'm scared.
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I won't hurt you. I never would. I won't let anything else hurt you either, not again, I'll take care of you, I won't make you do anything . . .
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No. He can't.]
Can we bring the cage. Is that a thing.
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But if the alternative is leaving Ben here . . . that's no alternative at all.]
. . . yes. I can bring the cage with us.
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Even if he is so very, very, very distressed, horrified beyond measure, because after all his promises, this is still where his Pack ended up. In a cage.]
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Please...
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