Private Tales Pass the Knife

[Marcia]

They had done it; they had found hell.

It wasn't an infernal realm on another plane of existence where demons and devils played idle games with the souls of the living. Nor was it some endless chasm deep beneath the earth where one lived their worst fears for eternity, bound by chains of anguish. No. Hell was a filthy midden of a training room, a single bucket of soapy water, and two toothbrushes.

Honestly, it was bullshit.

They spent all this time and energy training them to be the spine of Anirian might, educating them on the art of war, sharpening their arcane talents, honing them to kill, and then, in the same breath, reprimanded them for what? Fighting? Was it not the purpose of future Dreadlords?

Okay, perhaps it was 'completely unacceptable' to have devolved into an altercation in the hallway that had started with barbed words and ended with the practical application of magic and violence. However, Marcia still couldn't help but feel like they were being held back. Eat or be eaten. Talk shit, get hit. Nobody was going to pop out of the woodwork in reality and scold them for being underhanded or using their abilities as they were meant to be used.

Proctor Pillock Pilleth had thought himself terribly clever—his preference for the ways of the Revolution prevalent in his creatively harmless form of punishment. Once upon a time, Initiates who fought outside the boundaries of their training would just be taken out into the woods and made to fight until only one was left alive.

A better fucking fate than this.

Marcia glared down at the rune-inscribed manacle fastened around her right wrist, her gaze following the short chain linking it to the other cuff, currently clamped around the left of Vittoria fucking Larrainth.

At least the Academy had gotten so soft that they'd taken the pair to the infirmary before their punishment was due. Just as well for the shorter Initiate, who had come off far worse in the altercation. What can you do against a girl who could dismantle you with nothing more than a thought and the desire to do so? Snapped her clavicle with a sadist's smile, and that was merely warming up. Marcia, or rather her reflection, had responded in kind, her imperceptible mirror image having cracked the blue-blooded arsewipe in the base of the neck with a candlestick snatched from a wall sconce.

They were charged with cleaning the room together, a multitude of dried blood, sweat and tears caking the unforgiving stone floors where violence was actually permitted. Proctor Pilleth demanded a rigorous clean, with the scrutiny of an inspection promised once they had finished if they didn't murder each other first. Presumably, that's why he sat outside the room, awaiting the moment things got violently loud or suspiciously quiet.

"Come on, Larrainth," Marcia huffed, bucket in her free hand as she started marching towards the back of the room, expecting Vittoria to follow. "We should start at the end of the room, make our way back."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Yet another cuff around her wrist, this time a physical chain kept her close enough to classmate she would rather go without. She knew asking for isolation would go unheard, that this time, Vittoria would not intimidate the Proctors into giving her sway.

In a bid for cooperation, she followed closely beside Marcia, not bothering to deign the idea with her acknowledgment. She simply heard and agreed, silently going along with it all.

Getting down to the floor proved awkward, as both tried to find a comfortable spot to begin their work.

The smaller girl deserved what Vittoria had dealt her. It had escalated so quickly, she could not recall what made her unleash her bloodthirst.

Now, Larrainth exercised restraint, giving the other Initiate the chance for quiet as they were to serve their mundane punishment. They had all day to serve it, and Vittoria knew her muscles would ache from these positions for days to come afterwards.

 

[Marcia]

The pair managed to start their task without much fuss, silently navigating the physical awkwardness of being cuffed together so that they could begin the monotonous act of scrubbing the entire floor. It wasn't exactly how one would describe perfect harmony; it was more like the calm before the storm.

After about forty minutes, Proctor Pilleth even poked his useless head inside just to ensure that there hadn't already been a murder.

Despite Marcia's will to just get the punishment over with, she could feel the creep of irritation climb up her back. It was a familiar sensation, telling in how her jaw flexed, obscuring teeth that ground together as if it did anything to soothe her rage.

At least she had a toothbrush for an outlet. She dunked the bristles in the water and scrubbed furiously at long-dried blood and built-up grime in a repetitive motion that completely distorted time, stretching it out into oblivion. The girl could already feel tomorrow's pain cresting on the horizon, from knees that pressed into hard stone, her stooped back, and her free arm, designated for scrubbing.

Leaning back on her knees for a break, the girl cast an idle glance at their bucket. The suds had already faded, leaving behind dirt-tainted water, which cast back a murky reflection. Upon catching sight of it, her magic unconsciously reached out to connect with the mirror image.

The runes on the manacle began to glow in a brilliant blue light.

"Fuck!"

A sharp, splitting pain suddenly drilled into the back of her skull, reverberating through her back teeth and forcing her eyes to close, immediately ending the sensation. However, Marcia wasn't the only one who felt the retaliation of the magical suppression; unbeknownst to her, Vittoria experienced the exact same sensation.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria gritted her teeth, her arm crumbing under the sharp pain that echoed into her. It was ruthless, something that seemed to leave remnants within them after it had passed, but her eyes turned to Marcia.

They were murderous.

"Can you not read runes?" She seethed, pointing to a specific arrangement that was visible on the chain. "This links us. And this..." With the toothbrush, she stained with droplets the rune that created the effect of feeding energy back into them. "Deters us from using magic."

It was the type of cuff they normally kept on her. One for dulling her magic, the other to deter her exactly like they just experienced. Although Vittoria was a glutton for pressing on her bruises, for it to come out of nowhere in a setting that did not call for it, it left her in rather a grumpy mood. "Besides, seeing your face this close, I am glad not to see your reflection." She grumbled.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia practically snarled at the notion that she couldn't read runes; the idea that she was anything less, that there was something she couldn't do that others could, was quick to get under her skin. "I fucking know, Larrainth," she hissed, shoving the bucket further away, causing the dirty water to slosh and spill onto the floor, likely getting the other girl's knees wet. "It doesn't just turn off."

It was the inconvenient truth that her ability was always on; every reflection she gazed upon was a conduit for her soul. The act of manipulating her mirror image was the conscious part.

"If you don't like it, shut your eyes," Marcia continued, leaning closer to the floor to violently scrub at a particularly well-aged, dark, and sticky patch. "Do us both a favour and shut your mouth while you're at it."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Marcia was a thorn embedded into your side, that careful brush that could not evade the reaches of the rose she had merely wished to leave. An environment of loveliness and beauty, the thorn latched onto someone to inflict her barbed anger and bitterness upon. No matter how one could try to be rid of her, Vittoria had learned to live with wounds and pain.

She also liked the odds Marcia brought as a rival, the challenge that kept Vittoria dedicated to bettering herself to perfection.

"How can one forget how barbaric you are." She scoffed, pretending the spilled bucket had not happened and continued in their activity of cleaning the stone with their given toothbrushes.

 

[Marcia]

"Oh, that's rich," Marcia snapped back in retort, only doubling down on her efforts to scrub away the stains and apparently the very stone itself. "I'm barbaric?"

Rising up from the floor, she pointed the business end of an accusatory toothbrush at Larrainth and sneered, teeth bared and brow furrowed in all the loathing the girl could muster. Just looking at Vittoria stirred an insidious storm of emotions within her, none of them entirely pleasant. Hatred, envy, disgust, and even a measure of fear, although the latter was often overshadowed by the rest.

"You're only capable of destruction, now that's fucking barbaric," Marcia hissed through her teeth, pulling at the manacles so that the other Initiate would be forced to look at her. "At least I have some redeemable fucking qualities."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"What I wield is power." Vittoria's retort grated against her bared teeth. She scrubbing efforts increased, forcing the bristles to split under the weight and began to lift up dirt from the porous stone.

 

[Marcia]

"From where I'm at, looks like you're on your knees wielding a toothbrush," Marcia was quick to reply, her eyes rolling in a withering display.

The shorter Initiate dunked her toothbrush in the water before scuttling back to start on a new spot and vanquish the next blood stain. This one could be described as rusty, its stickiness suggesting that it had been spilt by one of its more recent occupants.

"Very powerful," she seethed under her breath, words caustic with sarcasm.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Suddenly, she wished she had a knife in her hand. To sharpen it against the stone they were tasked with cleaning, a whetstone at her convenience.

"How did you fare Proctor Urahil's training sessions? How much pain can you tolerate?" Vittoria dared.

She knew as painful as the runes made it to be, Vittoria could hold her own. She could not succumb to it, not when from a young age she was taught to embrace it.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia bristled at the question, the sound of scrubbing halting for a lingering moment as her jaw set firm and fist tightened around the toothbrush.

The training had not gone well, at least by the Initiate's own standards. A passing mark, yes, but not one that was satisfactory. Painfully mediocre. Not good enough. She'd cried out like a pathetic little girl at thoughts of Larrainth looming over her, the pain that Proctor Urahil was inflicting intermingling with her own doubts until it was an overwhelming maelstrom bearing Vittoria's face. The thought lingered long after the session, going so far as to rob her of sleep as Marcia tried to smother anxious questions of doubt, with time and separation being the only thing to make a difference.

She didn't know, did she?

"Are you threatening me?" Marcia asked quietly, the apparent calm in the girl's voice very much before the storm. She'd returned to upright kneeling, stare laser focused on Vittoria.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria scoffed lightly, shaking her head.

"I can understand why the likes of you would feel threatened." She stated clearly, continuing her task and trying to ignore her irritation that Marcia had emptied the contents of the bucket over the floor. Now, there was no clean water to clean her toothbrush with. It looked as if they were cleaning dirt with dirt laced water.

 

[Marcia]

There it was.

Likes of you.

Marcia's body went perfectly still for a couple of seconds, eyes slowly swivelling in their sockets to stare at the back of Vittoria's head. The urge to lunge forward and smash her head into the stone built up until it was pounding with every thump of her heart and in every slow, deliberate breath.

Looking down at her unshackled hand that trembled in a tight fist around the toothbrush, an impulsive thought wondered if she had the strength to stab the blunt wooden end through Larrainth's side.

"Yeah?" Marcia asked quietly, dangerously, the calm before the storm. "The likes of me?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria gritted her teeth, drew in a deep inhale before loosing it from her lungs in a drawn out breath.

"You are some rat with magic that the Dreadlords caught. Probably thought you would make excellent fodder, but the Republic was a mercy upon your kind. We all know you are only alive because of the pacifying the Republic has placed on our education here... but just know, I am very capable of tearing you apart... piece by piece."

The way in which Vittoria spoke was as if she had been reading from a textbook, her voice strong and stable, clear and spoken with a knowledge to it all. They were words she had promised a now dead woman, a promise she had in fact followed through with.

 

[Marcia]

Rat with magic. Fodder.

Words that suggested she was less than. Words that boiled her blood. Words that spurred her on to work harder and do better. Words spoken with an air of authority. Words that, during Proctor Urahil's training, she feared were true.

Words that discarded consequences.

In a snap, Marcia had lunged forward in an attempt to slam Vittoria's face into the wet stone beneath her.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Throwing herself out of harm's way would not have helped matters when she had been shackled with Marcia, but the tug of the chain had been the first warning sign the girl had moved.

Second, had been the change in breathing coming from the girl.

Vittoria only had enough time to bring her arms up, to shield herself as much as she could as Marcia's diminutive form had tried to claw for her face. Vitt gritted her teeth, glaring at the rabid beast.

"Look at you. Pathetic. Weak. You are a liability!" Hissed Larrainth.

 

[Marcia]

Not hearing Larrainth's skull smash into the stone only served to shovel coal into the out-of-control furnace that served as Marcia's engine, her assault having swiftly devolved into a frenzied flurry of hands.

Pathetic. Weak. Liability.

The girl's eyes widened, the whites near animalistic in their blind fury at the words that cut right down to her core of doubt and loathing. She couldn't even find the words to respond, her rage primal in that it only understood action and reaction. Dialogue was for people, and anger was a beast. Marcia was bared teeth, a strangled snarl and little else.

Her shackled wrist pulled to the side, trying to get that hand away from protecting her face while her free hand snatched at Vittoria's other wrist with the same goal in mind. It didn't matter if she managed to do it as Marcia's head rocketed forward, aiming to smash her brow into the other Initiate's nose.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Her eyes prickled with a pain or sensation she did not experience plenty of, but as Marcia's head collided with her nose, Vittoria's face was numb to the feeling of tears falling down her cheeks. Pain disorientated her a moment, all thoughts of winding up the other girl dislodged from her mind as fury blazed triumphant.

She was used to the pain of the shackles when she could anticipate them, but Marcia was likely not able to withstand it as long as Vittoria could.

And so, Vittoria began using her magic against her own cuff. It would take minutes for her to dispel the runes there, perhaps longer if the pain was unbearable at some moments, but determined, she would see this through.

"Savage." She hissed, spurring the bundle of rage to fanned, angry flames.

 

[Marcia]

Impact.

That moment, skull smashing into cartilage, was like lightning in a fucking bottle.

There was something innately powerful in the release of violent fury, the thick smacks of flesh and bone that spoke to the beast of rage intermingled with boiling blood. It never lost its sheen, never grew tiresome, and was never not worth it for all the consequences that often followed. In the apex of the moment, Marcia could have smashed her head into Vittoria's face until there was nothing left but a caved-in hollow of noble gore.

Savage was right.

The runes burst into life in retort, causing the white-hot pain to erupt inside her skull, that high-pitched drill that felt like it was trying to bore a hole through bone. The girl cringed, one hand fruitlessly grabbing at her own head as if it might have lessened the sensation.

"...gah! Stop it, you fucking maniac!" Marcia brayed through gritted teeth in the knowledge that Larrainth was also inflicting the sensation upon herself. Her shackled wrist tugged violently, trying to put her off balance, the other hand reaching out to aimlessly grab at Vittoria's face to stop her.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"I will not!" She seethed, smiling through the blood that had inevitably flowed from her nostrils and over her mouth.

Vittoria's magic sunk it's teeth into the magic in those runes, not intending to let go anytime soon. She could withstand the aches in her head, especially when she was sure her nose was broken and left it hard to ignore there was trauma dealt. "You wish for me to stop, rat? Then become obedient."

Her magic clawed their hold into the shackles, searing pain shooting through both of them that left Vittoria audibly straining against it.

"This is how you tame a beast. This is how I will make you heel to my call." The Unmaker seethed.

 

[Marcia]

In a matter of moments, that animal satisfaction from her outburst had vanished, swiftly replaced by the cold grip of fear in the shadow of that lunatic's smile.

Marcia was back in the dungeon, caught in the jaws of Proctor Urahil's painful training, only Vittoria Larrainth didn't loom over her as a mere spectre of her insecurities, but in seething flesh and with the will to dominate. The girl clutched at her own head again, teeth threatening to crack under the weight of pressure as she doubled over on her knees. She was practically curling in on herself.

She could end it now, call out to Proctor Pilleth and save her skin. Like a rat. Better to sit and stew in isolation; the girl's own tailor-made punishment reserved for her outbursts.

How utterly fucking craven.

"I won't!" Marcia's strangled exclamations replied, escaping through gaps in her teeth. "I can't!"

How could Larrainth even bear it? How could the girl still move, speak, and think in sentences beyond fragments broken up by that constant focused drill? Just as much masochist as she was sadist.

"Fuck you!" She spat at Vittoria through the strain, head moving to look up at her, eyes holding naught but feral hatred. "Fuck you! I'm not... I'm not less than you!"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"You rage because you know that is your truth." Baiting words, all said in her sinister whisper.

Vittoria had always thought herself a predator. She had the strength, the cunning, the power, but also the awareness of her proxemics. She could hear boots falling, speeding up as Marcia's voice bounced off the stone.

With great strength, the Unmaker ceased her channeling of magic into their cuffs. There had been no evidence that her particular brand of power was used. What was to be seen was skin freshly unblemished upon Marcia, but the bloody and broken mess of Vittoria's nose, the girl now feigning fear and pain from her injury.

 

[Marcia]

Proctor Pilleth's book had been getting good.

It wasn't quite the enemies-to-lovers affair between a hapless yet fiercely independent woman and her malicious fae counterpart with a loose understanding of consent and striking eyes that had inexplicably grown to be popular amongst ladies-in-waiting. No, far from it. His book was an altogether dry account of Nordenfiir history with a particular focus on the ruling Kings and Queens and their subsequent impact on Norden society.

The two Initiates, for the large part, been suspiciously quiet in the training room, having given the man earlier cause to check in. However, it had been too early to consider the punishment to have been a success in forced cooperation. He had been aware of voices through the door. A few terse words, the Proctor imagined, pausing every other moment and peering over his book in consideration of getting up and intervening.

Ah, expletives. Wonderful. There was no prize for guessing which Initiate was responsible for such foul language. That was his cue to abandon his book with a deep sigh and do his duty as a voice of authority.

Upon entering the room, the scrutiny of his analytical stare immediately sought out the pair, glacial blues focusing on the blood on Initiate Larrainth's face before absorbing the girl's...

...frightened expression?

Even his usually stoic features faltered, his gaunt visage twitching with surprise at the sight. Had they ever seen the young woman show fear before? Most of the Proctors didn't believe her to be capable of such an emotion. Eyes snapped to Initiate Marcia in an instant, who did not betray character by continuing to radiate an aura of outrage with clenched fists ready to strike.

The roles were clear, the victim and the aggressor.

"I do not recall which part of cleaning involves broken noses," Pilleth stated calmly, clasping his hands behind his back as the man strode forward to loom over them. "Perhaps both of you could enlighten me."

---

In an instant everything had changed.

The pain boring a hole through her brain had ceased, leaving Marcia only with the remnants of pain caused by words that cut to the bone. She wasn't fucking less than, not for her rage, her height, or her lack of social status.

She'd opened her mouth to unleash a tirade, hands balled to smack hateful sentiments back down Larrainth's throat only to find her sitting there like some hapless, quivering unfortunate soul. It gave her pause for a couple of seconds, just in time for Proctor Pilleth to make his entrance.

That sly fucking bitch.

"No, this isn't... she was..." Marcia started, her words tripping on sheer outrage as her widened eyes flickered between Proctor and Initiate. Only one of them was bloodied. "No no. She's fine! She's just pretending! For fuck's sake, she wa-"

Marcia's voice was cut off in an instant as the Proctor demonstrated his mastery of sound magic to render the girl mute in the wake of her foul language. His talents were one well suited for teaching, and better yet for enjoying a book in relative peace.

 

[Perrine Urahil]

"Honestly, Pilleth was a right idiot for thinking such punishment would not end like this."

She sighed as she inspected Vittoria's nose. The girl had begun to feel the pain and annoyance that came with such an injury, but the process was delicate to heal.

Perrine looked to Marcia, who had been instructed to sit at a desk on the opposite side of the classroom. "There will be another punishment for this." She said to the Inititiate. "But you will not be serving it with Initiate Larrainth."

"She should be kept in isolation for what she did."

"And you are innocent in this, Larrainth?" Perrine's tone was knowing. She lifted a brow at the girl seated before her, and the Proctor sighed once more and put her hands on either side of the girl's face. "You know how to read your opponents and spite them. I would hazard a guess you knew what you were doing and were in complete control of it the entire time. Perhaps you can put that thinking to use when you go to work with Archon Galleus this Sunday."

For Sepia would shut down that attitude fast. Perrine knew many to have an aversion to the Archon, and for good reason, but the work she did to help healing become more available was something Perri could commend.

"This will hurt." She warned seconds before her healing magic repaired Vittoria's nose. A sharp stinging sensation made the girl wince and gasp, reeling from the sudden fix.

 

[Marcia]

Marcia was hardly ecstatic about the turn of events, made very obvious by the dour expression that hung upon her face as she sat far away from proceedings. The need to separate them would perhaps be amusing upon reflection, given enough time and space, considering Proctor Pilleth thought it was clever to chain them together.

He was an idiot.

At least Proctor Urahil's intervention had granted him leave from the entire debacle so he could stalk off to a quiet place and continue reading instead of doing his duty.

The look of raw disgust that suddenly made itself present on the short Initiate's face in response to the notion that there would be a secondary punishment was not masked, with the girl still wholly wound up by the key in her back that had been turned several times over by Larrainth's words.

"That's what I tried to fuc—I tried to tell you!" Marcia complained as Proctor's assessment confirmed what had actually happened. "Ugh."

Whatever happened to talk shit, get hit as an unofficial school mantra?

"I hope it fuckin' hurt," she mumbled as Urahil's magic fixed Vittoria's nose. Crossing her arms on the desk, the girl rested her forehead on them and allowed herself to simmer gently as Larrainth's words replayed in the back of her mind.