Cinnamon Swirl #24, Blueberry Yoghurt #16, Mocha #13
Author: Fynn
Challenge: Cinnamon Swirl #24 - face to face, Blueberry Yoghurt #16 - the upper hand, Mocha #13 - when I get my hands on you
Story: Saranados
Rating: PG-13 for torture and swearing
Wordcount: 400
Summary: Avebury holds his ground. His captors wish he'd hold his tongue.
Notes:
“Filthy demonspawned whoreson bastard!”
Sabbat laughed. “That meant t’be an insult?”
“Gutter-dwelling son of a Skraeling bitch!”
“Liked th’other one better.”
“Godsdamn you! I swear, I’ll-“
“Kill me?” He jerked his captive’s head back, pushing the razor-blade flat against his throat. “Tried that already. Din’t work.”
“Only because that abomination you call a friend-“ Avebury’s voice choked off as the blade twisted, pressing deeper into his skin, drawing blood.
“Y’talk too fuckin’ much. Shut it.”
Surprisingly, he did. For all of a minute.
------
“Why...are you doing this, halfbreed?”
Sabbat crouched down, glaring into the bruised and battered face of his enemy. “Why d’y’think?”
Avebury rolled his open eye, and sighed. “I..haven’t the faintest...idea. Why don’t you...ah.. explain?” He smirked, somehow still managing to keep that air of condescending amusement. “Or would that tax...your brain...too much?”
The older man snarled and grabbed him by the throat, smashing his head back against the wall. “Y’tortured me. Y’tried t’fuckin’ kill me. Y’killed Archer-“
“Temporarily.....So...revenge? And here...I was...thinking the Order...was above all that.”
“I ain’t th’Order. An’ ‘t ain’t revenge.”
“Oh?”
He grinned lopsidedly, leaning in closer. “’s fun.”
-----
“Did you get anything?”
Sabbat shook his head, wiping the blade of his razor on his sleeve. “Fuckin’ bastard. Ain’t got ‘nythin’ t’say ‘xcept insults an’ threats.”
“Threats?” Archer raised an eyebrow. “Does he seriously think he’s in a position to be threatening us?”
He nodded. “Looks like ‘t.”
The vampire sighed. “As much as I dislike this idea, I had hoped it would get us some information.”
“’t ain’t. ‘s useless.” The assassin paused, then grinned. “Should just kill him an’ have done with’t.”
“And risk the inevitable reaction against us when the body’s discovered?”
“Ain’t goin’ t’be discovered, an’ why’d they suspect us?”
“It would be ridiculous if they didn’t.”
Sabbat scowled.
“And besides, he’s more useful to us alive.”
“An’ more dangerous.”
“....True. But we can’t just kill him.”
“Why?”
“Because-.“ Archer stopped, tilting his head to one side. “Did you hear that?”
“No. ‘ll trust t’your ears, though.”
He stood up. “I’d say it was nothing, but...”
Sabbat was already heading for the door, pulling a throwing knife left-handed from his belt. He turned, and gave Archer a rather worrying grin. “’f they try an’ break him out...’s a lot of things can happen in fights.”
“True.”
It was almost, but not quite, permission.
‘s good ‘nough for me.
Challenge: Cinnamon Swirl #24 - face to face, Blueberry Yoghurt #16 - the upper hand, Mocha #13 - when I get my hands on you
Story: Saranados
Rating: PG-13 for torture and swearing
Wordcount: 400
Summary: Avebury holds his ground. His captors wish he'd hold his tongue.
Notes:
“Filthy demonspawned whoreson bastard!”
Sabbat laughed. “That meant t’be an insult?”
“Gutter-dwelling son of a Skraeling bitch!”
“Liked th’other one better.”
“Godsdamn you! I swear, I’ll-“
“Kill me?” He jerked his captive’s head back, pushing the razor-blade flat against his throat. “Tried that already. Din’t work.”
“Only because that abomination you call a friend-“ Avebury’s voice choked off as the blade twisted, pressing deeper into his skin, drawing blood.
“Y’talk too fuckin’ much. Shut it.”
Surprisingly, he did. For all of a minute.
------
“Why...are you doing this, halfbreed?”
Sabbat crouched down, glaring into the bruised and battered face of his enemy. “Why d’y’think?”
Avebury rolled his open eye, and sighed. “I..haven’t the faintest...idea. Why don’t you...ah.. explain?” He smirked, somehow still managing to keep that air of condescending amusement. “Or would that tax...your brain...too much?”
The older man snarled and grabbed him by the throat, smashing his head back against the wall. “Y’tortured me. Y’tried t’fuckin’ kill me. Y’killed Archer-“
“Temporarily.....So...revenge? And here...I was...thinking the Order...was above all that.”
“I ain’t th’Order. An’ ‘t ain’t revenge.”
“Oh?”
He grinned lopsidedly, leaning in closer. “’s fun.”
-----
“Did you get anything?”
Sabbat shook his head, wiping the blade of his razor on his sleeve. “Fuckin’ bastard. Ain’t got ‘nythin’ t’say ‘xcept insults an’ threats.”
“Threats?” Archer raised an eyebrow. “Does he seriously think he’s in a position to be threatening us?”
He nodded. “Looks like ‘t.”
The vampire sighed. “As much as I dislike this idea, I had hoped it would get us some information.”
“’t ain’t. ‘s useless.” The assassin paused, then grinned. “Should just kill him an’ have done with’t.”
“And risk the inevitable reaction against us when the body’s discovered?”
“Ain’t goin’ t’be discovered, an’ why’d they suspect us?”
“It would be ridiculous if they didn’t.”
Sabbat scowled.
“And besides, he’s more useful to us alive.”
“An’ more dangerous.”
“....True. But we can’t just kill him.”
“Why?”
“Because-.“ Archer stopped, tilting his head to one side. “Did you hear that?”
“No. ‘ll trust t’your ears, though.”
He stood up. “I’d say it was nothing, but...”
Sabbat was already heading for the door, pulling a throwing knife left-handed from his belt. He turned, and gave Archer a rather worrying grin. “’f they try an’ break him out...’s a lot of things can happen in fights.”
“True.”
It was almost, but not quite, permission.
‘s good ‘nough for me.