Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 24 2009, 00:48:33 UTC
Nero's expression remained, fixed and leering like a mask of gaping stone and metal, like the broken plates of the Narada. Idly he wondered if Kirk could see the Etrevon wires, hear them clicking behind his eyes, beneath his skin. His blood felt cold, his fingers glassy, and Nero leaned back on his heels.
“Ainama afvu...” Nero lifted Kirk's neck, his eyes running down the expanse of the human's throat as his fingers did the same. Neither were very forgiving.
“Thlhe bhai'allh dvaer,” Nero continued, speaking against the light. His voice was wispy, frigid, seeping in the threat of pain. There was a void within his throat, unforgiving as space, and it propelled his words. “Thlom aelhe...d'hannam. Daegnus emael uhfea.Behind him, the jar swirled and Ayel set it to the ground. Casually, Nero lifted the combs above his shoulder. The longs lines of them rattled free, slipped pink and white into Ayel's hand as he took them. It was silent, the one he had left. Penitent. Nero eyed the tool, the dark titanium combing, the binding wire, and his
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 25 2009, 00:24:31 UTC
There was no end. No beginning. Just a pain that ached through every part of him, pins and needles stabbing into meat over and over and over until he curled up into a fetus. Just let out a whimper he couldn't help, bubbling over his lips in guilty poison.
The reek of blood was choking, and the pain at his neck increased. Had to make the fire die so he could think again.
So he concentrated on one thing. ...A pair of dark eyes, framed in brown hair, glaring at him.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 25 2009, 01:38:54 UTC
"No," he breathed, almost shocked, bolting upright, careful not to upset the ink. Then again, louder: "No!"
This was basic Federation business. Divide and conquer. This was how they won, against the Klingons, against the Dominion, and against his own people, though there it was done with whispers and lies and promises, pretty, poisonous Vulcan pipe dreams.
Ayel would not let it happen again. That threat hiding under his skin, the promise of agony, of shared knowing, wasn't enough to stop him. Eivha forced him to relax, prodded him to set their tools aside with care, with such respect as could be managed here. But Eivha didn't want to look, she didn't want to see this. Kirk was 'Fleet, Fed, lloann'na, but still so young, so frightened.
Ayel jammed his left hand in his pocket. Hid Eivha from sight. Closed her eyes, blinked his, and pinned Kirk to the floor with both knees, straddling him. The pain was a low current against the inside of Ayel's skin, red and foreign, spiked with jolts in the hands and feet. Not unlike the klivam with
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 25 2009, 01:57:05 UTC
Kirk's body arched up as the pressure and weight on him made every inch of his body scream. He let out a snarl like an angry cat, one hand coming up and clawing at Ayel's side to get him off. "GEORGE!" He almost screamed for his father, body bucking and trying to throw off the weight on top of his.
His hand came up and slashed for Ayel's face with his fingernails like a feline.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 25 2009, 02:34:54 UTC
There were fingers in his eyes.
Ayel did the only sensible thing there was to do and jerked his head back, snarling to hold in a shriek as he bit at the offending digits.
He shoved down hard with his elbow, blindly, his eyes all water and pain, just going for 'body' underneath him somewhere, to try and hold Kirk down tight.
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 25 2009, 02:45:14 UTC
What he was fighting with, what strength, he didn't know. It was like fighting under pure instinct, whatever let mothers pull cars off children and let people chew their own arm off to get out of a bear trap. The pain of the bite was almost minor, the elbow less so.
Kirk snarled darkly and struck out almost as blindly at the man holding him down. He had to fight. Couldn't give up. Couldn't stop fighting.
Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 25 2009, 04:06:55 UTC
Nero stared at George, transfixed on the hate and pain that bled through his teeth. The snarling slam of flesh and light against his back, twisting in shadow and pain, brought his head around. He craned, pulling his hissing flesh from George's and his eyes narrowed on the flash of yellow and green. Thoughtlessly, Nero moved, snapping around in a smooth arc like a snake. A low hiss erupted from him and he lunged, aiming a solid kick at the hevam's side.
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 25 2009, 04:26:17 UTC
FUCK!
Kirk let out a scream of sound as rib cracked under the kick and he twisted, Ayel partly spilling off him. He had to fight, couldn't give up. He couldn't breathe. A deep coughing jerked his entire body and his eyes closed as he tried to start to get up, putting no weight on his broken hand.
Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 25 2009, 04:41:00 UTC
Nero circled, moving against a line of black and red around Kirk, staying out of the human's shadow and his foot snapped out, knocking sharp against the human's back. As the man clattered down, Nero slipped his boot across Kirk's neck, smooth and snug as a ladder rung, and leaned against him.
"Ayel," Nero snapped, "Hmnhe thlhem raivusi, thlhem daegi. Cutaes!" The command was broken, disjointed beneath the heavy light and the sudden movement, and it seethed out of his lungs like shards of glass.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 25 2009, 07:57:37 UTC
Nero gave the word and Ayel was across the floor, after the cable he'd spooled there. He'd thought they would need more. Humans were slippery things and these two were perhaps understandably hell-bent on escape. Kirk in particular was like a hnoiyika in a trap and half-rabid, striking without warning. Could turn on them at any moment. Kept proving he needed to be tied down.
From the elbows, this time. Ayel had had quite enough of messing about with hands and fingers. He planted his foot solidly on Kirk's upper arm to keep him there, uncoiled facedown. Ayel slipped the cable into the grate, pulling it up on the other side and cinching down hard, overhanded, twisting the knots until the skin beneath went white enough for his liking.
He pressed his knee hard against the hinge of Kirk's leg and fastened his thigh flat the same way, ignoring the small, sharp noises Kirk made, bitten down howls of protest.
It didn't matter. He wasn't getting away again.
(Hnoiyika - a vicious predator, weasel-like but wolf-sized, with a nasty temper.)
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 25 2009, 11:44:30 UTC
He couldn't breathe, and his ribs cracked further with the sudden connection with the fucking floor. His hand screamed in pain and he echoed it somehow. Oh fuck, fuck, he had to keep from blacking out. Had to. His mind wanted to so the pain would stop. His teeth showed and he closed his eyes. His fingers clenched on grating on the floor. He tilted his head and forced his eyes open, glaring at nothing at all.
The grating was painful accommodation. It dug cruelly into limbs that had regained feeling, still twitching in aching tiny motions. The wire bit into his skin and made it seethe, boil, then die all over again.
Bones, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish I had told you.
Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 26 2009, 09:18:40 UTC
"No, James," Nero called kindly, his voice swinging like a pendulum as he stepped across the human's torso. "You can't sleep yet."
He waited as the Narada gradually swallowed the echoes of Kirk's struggle, the vehemence of George's cries, and his eyes drifted over the pale, bruised line of the human's back. When all was silence again, calm and deathly under the colored lights, Nero leaned in.
"Ayel," he started low, "ketaen." The room was still and he craned his head to meet his First Officer's eyes. The Romulan was staring at him as though he'd become confused in the last few seconds. Had he? He didn't think so. No...no he could see it in the shifting light, feel it in his ribs.
"Just enough to keep him here," Nero added and his eyes drifted back along Kirk's legs and the span of his side before his head turned to match. Behind him, Ayel shuffled, and Nero rocked back onto his heels, crouched over Kirk. His hand slipped out and ran across the hevam's back, over the mottled pattern of white, heaving pink, and slow darkened reds
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.kirktasticSeptember 26 2009, 12:06:53 UTC
Kirk's eyes closed again as the pain started again, this time trailing around his back, curling its fingers around his spine and squeezing. It was terrifying, how little he could fight. His arms and legs were not responding - or they were, but could move so frighteningly little as the wire bit into flesh. He wondered if he would have scars there, too, criss-crossing his arms and legs and hands and feet in erratic patterns. If they did scar, they would tell their own story.
Nero was telling him more of the story. The story of his dead crew that had followed him into this battle, that had agreed to ignore logic and take their revenge. He didn't want to hear the story, wanted the lines and swirls and pools of ink to mean nothing except torture. Didn't want them mean peopleNero wanted him to wear those tattoos so the grief would never stop. They would tear apart his skin for the rest of his life. He would carry on that grief
( ... )
Re: Shifting colors.mirror_brightlySeptember 26 2009, 17:07:11 UTC
Mnhei'sahe.
Nero pulled his hands back, away from the spirals moving up the lines of Kirk's back, whorling black grief, and his eyes narrowed on the human. He was compelled by every fiber of his being to grant Kirk's request, but it turned his stomach, brought his teeth together hard and ground them with a glassy pull.
Lhaerrh twisted up the human's spine, Man'dukar was beside him, as was their wont in life. Nero's hand swept the blood from them, bore them clear to the light. He scowled and bent to bring himself close to Kirk. He folded, near in half, and his throat twisted as he did, holding in his air and his voice.
Re: Shifting colors.loyalty_everSeptember 27 2009, 02:06:36 UTC
He'd tapped the air from the needle--tricky going, with such a small amount, exactly a sixteenth, half of an eighth-dose.
Kirk had to stay awake. This would keep him that way, lessen the pressure on his ribs and ease his breathing, keep him listening.
Ayel had folded himself down near Kirk's shoulder, angling for a spot of white amid the jagged curl of Bhaon's name on his throat. Ayel's way of touching without touching, tracking with the needle and the sign around it. But he never got that far.
Kirk opened his eyes, pressed words across his tongue, and every one of them was like a needle of its own, tapping sharp on Ayel's skin.
His own dead.
The syringe knew its work, hissed and clicked and smoothed the edges from Kirk's suffering almost by itself.
Ayel pushed the thing aside and did not stand.
He waited opposite his captain, keeping their honor by keeping silent.
There were new dead in the room. He had to listen for their names.
“Ainama afvu...” Nero lifted Kirk's neck, his eyes running down the expanse of the human's throat as his fingers did the same. Neither were very forgiving.
“Thlhe bhai'allh dvaer,” Nero continued, speaking against the light. His voice was wispy, frigid, seeping in the threat of pain. There was a void within his throat, unforgiving as space, and it propelled his words. “Thlom aelhe...d'hannam. Daegnus emael uhfea.Behind him, the jar swirled and Ayel set it to the ground. Casually, Nero lifted the combs above his shoulder. The longs lines of them rattled free, slipped pink and white into Ayel's hand as he took them. It was silent, the one he had left. Penitent. Nero eyed the tool, the dark titanium combing, the binding wire, and his ( ... )
Reply
Reply
The reek of blood was choking, and the pain at his neck increased. Had to make the fire die so he could think again.
So he concentrated on one thing. ...A pair of dark eyes, framed in brown hair, glaring at him.
Reply
This was basic Federation business. Divide and conquer. This was how they won, against the Klingons, against the Dominion, and against his own people, though there it was done with whispers and lies and promises, pretty, poisonous Vulcan pipe dreams.
Ayel would not let it happen again. That threat hiding under his skin, the promise of agony, of shared knowing, wasn't enough to stop him. Eivha forced him to relax, prodded him to set their tools aside with care, with such respect as could be managed here. But Eivha didn't want to look, she didn't want to see this. Kirk was 'Fleet, Fed, lloann'na, but still so young, so frightened.
Ayel jammed his left hand in his pocket. Hid Eivha from sight. Closed her eyes, blinked his, and pinned Kirk to the floor with both knees, straddling him. The pain was a low current against the inside of Ayel's skin, red and foreign, spiked with jolts in the hands and feet. Not unlike the klivam with ( ... )
Reply
His hand came up and slashed for Ayel's face with his fingernails like a feline.
Reply
Ayel did the only sensible thing there was to do and jerked his head back, snarling to hold in a shriek as he bit at the offending digits.
He shoved down hard with his elbow, blindly, his eyes all water and pain, just going for 'body' underneath him somewhere, to try and hold Kirk down tight.
Can't hit him in the face. Can't let go.
Reply
Kirk snarled darkly and struck out almost as blindly at the man holding him down. He had to fight. Couldn't give up. Couldn't stop fighting.
Had to get them to stop focusing on his father.
Reply
Reply
Kirk let out a scream of sound as rib cracked under the kick and he twisted, Ayel partly spilling off him. He had to fight, couldn't give up. He couldn't breathe. A deep coughing jerked his entire body and his eyes closed as he tried to start to get up, putting no weight on his broken hand.
Reply
"Ayel," Nero snapped, "Hmnhe thlhem raivusi, thlhem daegi. Cutaes!" The command was broken, disjointed beneath the heavy light and the sudden movement, and it seethed out of his lungs like shards of glass.
Reply
From the elbows, this time. Ayel had had quite enough of messing about with hands and fingers. He planted his foot solidly on Kirk's upper arm to keep him there, uncoiled facedown. Ayel slipped the cable into the grate, pulling it up on the other side and cinching down hard, overhanded, twisting the knots until the skin beneath went white enough for his liking.
He pressed his knee hard against the hinge of Kirk's leg and fastened his thigh flat the same way, ignoring the small, sharp noises Kirk made, bitten down howls of protest.
It didn't matter. He wasn't getting away again.
(Hnoiyika - a vicious predator, weasel-like but wolf-sized, with a nasty temper.)
Reply
The grating was painful accommodation. It dug cruelly into limbs that had regained feeling, still twitching in aching tiny motions. The wire bit into his skin and made it seethe, boil, then die all over again.
Bones, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish I had told you.
Reply
He waited as the Narada gradually swallowed the echoes of Kirk's struggle, the vehemence of George's cries, and his eyes drifted over the pale, bruised line of the human's back. When all was silence again, calm and deathly under the colored lights, Nero leaned in.
"Ayel," he started low, "ketaen." The room was still and he craned his head to meet his First Officer's eyes. The Romulan was staring at him as though he'd become confused in the last few seconds. Had he? He didn't think so. No...no he could see it in the shifting light, feel it in his ribs.
"Just enough to keep him here," Nero added and his eyes drifted back along Kirk's legs and the span of his side before his head turned to match. Behind him, Ayel shuffled, and Nero rocked back onto his heels, crouched over Kirk. His hand slipped out and ran across the hevam's back, over the mottled pattern of white, heaving pink, and slow darkened reds ( ... )
Reply
Nero was telling him more of the story. The story of his dead crew that had followed him into this battle, that had agreed to ignore logic and take their revenge. He didn't want to hear the story, wanted the lines and swirls and pools of ink to mean nothing except torture. Didn't want them mean peopleNero wanted him to wear those tattoos so the grief would never stop. They would tear apart his skin for the rest of his life. He would carry on that grief ( ... )
Reply
Nero pulled his hands back, away from the spirals moving up the lines of Kirk's back, whorling black grief, and his eyes narrowed on the human. He was compelled by every fiber of his being to grant Kirk's request, but it turned his stomach, brought his teeth together hard and ground them with a glassy pull.
Lhaerrh twisted up the human's spine, Man'dukar was beside him, as was their wont in life. Nero's hand swept the blood from them, bore them clear to the light. He scowled and bent to bring himself close to Kirk. He folded, near in half, and his throat twisted as he did, holding in his air and his voice.
"Who?" Nero prompted, low and sickened.
Reply
Kirk had to stay awake. This would keep him that way, lessen the pressure on his ribs and ease his breathing, keep him listening.
Ayel had folded himself down near Kirk's shoulder, angling for a spot of white amid the jagged curl of Bhaon's name on his throat. Ayel's way of touching without touching, tracking with the needle and the sign around it. But he never got that far.
Kirk opened his eyes, pressed words across his tongue, and every one of them was like a needle of its own, tapping sharp on Ayel's skin.
His own dead.
The syringe knew its work, hissed and clicked and smoothed the edges from Kirk's suffering almost by itself.
Ayel pushed the thing aside and did not stand.
He waited opposite his captain, keeping their honor by keeping silent.
There were new dead in the room. He had to listen for their names.
Reply
Leave a comment