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Glass Mithril

Started by Anonymous, March 06, 2006, 06:04:15 PM

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Anonymous

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Atambrean groaned, lifted his head from his knees and gave both of them a dirty look. The black-haired man who wasn't a man, and his partner with the pontytail that looked like a fox's tail. Damn them both to the darkest, bitterest, coldest abyss.

Foxy was all grins, both hands tucked in the pockets of his long grey coat. "So this how 'ol Scales' taste in progency runs." He snorted, unamusedly. "Talk about taking the punishment without savoring the sin."

Blacky's, no Atambrean was certain the bastard's name was Koo-shoon or something like that, multi colored eyes narrowed, his lip curling. "You're not paid to think," he growled.

Foxy laughed. "I'm afraid you're confusing me with you again. While I can see why, I'm not flattered in the slightest."

Koo-shoon fumed and Atambrean bit his tongue, before his sense of humor ran away with him and belched out a laugh or some other amused little sound. These two were with that scaley demon, they weren't anyone he planned on knowing anytime soon.

Foxy, still grinning like the world was joke only he understood, strode towards him and knelt looking him in the eyes. "I know I'm not that old, but you seem to be missing a couple dozen pounds, a nice crusty coat of scales, and a few other pointy bits. How'd you con 'ol Scaley into thinking you were a dragon?"

Atambrean just glared at him. He had a plan going, if he was as stubborn and unyeilding as he could be, then maybe that big black bastard would realize he wasn't worth it and give him up for an easier victim. At least... that had been the plan. It didn't seem to be working much.

Foxy shot a curious look back at Koo-shoon, who watched apathetically, and then directed the look to Atambrean. "Open your mouth."

Atambrean just kept glaring. That simple request had to be the carrot in a trap, get him to do simple little things and he'd eventually tug the cord and set the box slamming down around himself. There was no way in hell he was goi-

Fuck Atambrean thought as a blast of light burst in front of his eyes from Foxy taking a handful of his hair and slamming his head into the wall. His vision blurred and he felt something drip from the back of his head.

"Tell him then," Foxy sneered, hopefully to Koo-shoon, who had that angry look on his face again. "I don't work like our dear Dez, I like things now." His eyes trailed back to Atambrean as the sentence finished. "Open your trap, you don't have to wory, I won't be insulted if your mouth smells like a flooded graveyard."

Atambrean kept his mouth shut, and found out that Foxy wasn't kidding when he mentioned liking things now.

As the days passed, Atambrean found himself hating Foxy the most. The old dragon would try taunting him and his little not-man servant would follow obidiently along, but this man. Atambrean couldn't figure him out, he would ask for simple things, and if he didn't comply would casually smash his skull into the wall or dislocate his shoulder and pop it back in. The ability to fight back would have been nice... if only that were possible. He'd been given nothing but water, sometimes a little broth since he got there and now spent most of his time sleeping to conserve any energy he could. Fighting was out of the question.

There had to be an end to this madness. But, that option seemed to be dancing to the tune his captor was providing. Abandon this folly, embrace your true soul and join me. Ugh. How could he embrace a true soul that he'd never been true to?

In the starved daze his waking moments were becoming he was starting to imagine himself as vainly trying to resist falling into an endless black pit. Like his will was a statue of glass mithral that still thought itself invincible even as it cracked and shattered. There was a way out of it. Had to be.

The obvious was out. There was no way he could do that to Nall. He was still responsible for her. And those were the extent of the options they seemed to set before him. Dance or Die.

Dance or Die.

Atambrean, half lucid, lay sprawled on the floor of his cell. Mouth too parched to let him sleep, eyelids too weak to lift so he could look around, so he looked asleep but wasn't. The hollowness of his stomach was constant now... except when he got too thirsty and chugged down the entire jar of water they set out for him per day. Then his stomach, full of water, wouldn't even realize that it was being cheated out of the meal it wanted so badly.

Wait.

Atambrean, weak and half-lucid, dragged his eyes open and smiled, his lips cracking and little beads of blood sprouting like the sudden flux of thoughts racing through his head.