Completed The Forsaken Child

[Nathaira]

Nathaira did not meet Norris’ gaze, but her face did twinge at the new cloud of noxious fumes exhaled at her, and her eyes started to water. He was vile. Evil incarnate. One of the few full-blooded humans that frequented this place and yet he possessed the least humanity of them all.

Yes, she did hate him, but it was a tempered, hidden thing. Even she did not fully understand. He had brought her great pain, but also great strength. He had rescued her from certain death, but also sent her out to die time and time again. He upset her, but she would never dare raise a hand against him.

Nathaira did not need Rumer’s magic to remember the pain. The events twelve years ago were not the last time she had been subjected to her own “gifts.” She knew exactly what her victims felt, could read in their eyes exactly what stage of the torment they were in. The worst part of it was… Norris had not been wrong. She understood her abilities far better now than she would have if she had never been forced to endure them. She knew how much venom would cause only pain, how much would paralyze, and how much would kill.

She looked down at her arm, the blood now drying into a sticky sheen. After years of agony, the pain caused from the slashes barely registered with her. More an annoyance than anything else. She sought to give the same tolerance to Rumer. But this was necessary for the girl’s survival… she was not cruel for sport… was she?

”Thank you, ssir,” she replied, grateful that he had agreed quickly.

In spite of the spiderweb of suppressed emotion behind her amber eyes she couldn’t help but take a hint of pride at being called “one of our best.” The good feeling faded quickly, and she looked nervously at Rumer when Norris called out her tears. These, too, would need to be done away with, but it was only her first day. Surely he could forgive them just this once…

Tell him what he wants to hear. She thought the phrase loudly in her head, desperately willing Rumer to hear it. Her eyes lingered on the oddly heavy cloth roll. Nothing good was in there, she was certain of it.

 

[Rumer]

The girl kept her face turned away from the two as they spoke, but she listened, particularly to the gibe Norris had made about Nathaira’s venom. Rumer didn’t know how things worked around here, she’d been left to guess, but she suddenly realised that Nathaira hadn’t been an employee here to punish her, but that she too had undergone the same or, apparently worse, treatment than she had. It didn’t make her feel better about any of her own past or future torment but she understood now what the woman had been trying to tell her. ‘I am helping you adjust to your new home..’

She silently wondered how many of these ‘mongrels’ there were as Norris spoke of brothers and sisters. Why were they here? What were they trained for? She’d been so caught up in questions that she couldn’t answer, that she flinched as Norris returned his attention to her and she faced forward and dipped her chin. His pause though.. Her hands returned to their clenched state to bore more fingernail shaped cuts into her palm, unsure whether to answer his question or not.

He was making excuses for her tears, and drawing closer, and her heart pounded faster with each slow step he made. The physical touch just about made her knees buckle, and had no choice but to meet his terrifying gaze for the first time. He reminded her of her father, only much, much worse. Her father could be outwardly cruel, this man pretended to be caring, he wanted her to make a mistake. She always made mistakes.

She suppressed a shudder at his smirk, and she took a moment to think of her answers and tried her best to mimic Nathaira’s obedience, obedience was something she could do.

“Of... of course I do, sir..” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed a painful lump in her throat.. “Sorry sir, allergies.” she lied, with the smallest of frowns that betrayed the many thoughts racing through her turmoiled little mind, her fists squeezing their blood onto the floor.

 

[Norris]

"Excellent," he replied while tightening his grip on the girl's face. "I'll try and refrain from smoking so close so long as you promise that I'll never see those tears again." Norris tilted the girl's head as he noticed the normal point that protruded over most elves and half-elves hair was missing from the sides of her face. First to the right side, where he noticed the mangled flesh. Then he violently jerked her head in the opposite direction, this time using his free hand to brush her hair out from the other ear.

They were both sliced. Misformed in a clumsy manner that pointed to an act of desperation. The crumpled flesh was hideous to behold. What was far more disgusting was what the mutilation represented. An attempt at making the girl normal. An attempt at making her more human. Such an idea seemed absolutely unsettling to the handler.

Grotesque.

What was the upside? This girl may one day grow up and deceive some proud Anirian only for him to find out nine months later that his wife is a half-elven slut? He needed to know if this was self-inflicted or something caused by her bumpkin of a father. His grip extended from her chin to her cheeks as he re-positioned her head to face him. He grasped at both of her cheeks, hard, and with his face filled with red and his eyes full of fury he stated, "such a pity... your ears make you look extraordinarily ugly."

He released her face and walked over to his rolled up fabric. With one foot he slowly kicked it open to encompass the entire length of the floor. Tied to the brown cloth was a series of hooks, chains, and razorblades. It was mostly theatrical, he didn't enjoy getting his hands bloodied. But, if it was necessary, if the girl had done that to herself... well... he'd have to hang her from the ceiling.

"I'm only going to ask once and you're going to answer me honestly. Did you do that to yourself? Mangle your ears in such a barbaric fashion."

 

[Nathaira]

It was a unique sort of displeasure, being forced to silently stand and watch as this monster assessed Rumer. She wouldn’t call it torture, she knew the difference vividly, but whatever humanity had been left in her hurt on Rumer’s behalf.

Norris was a tormenter, unique to the Forsaken and Dreadlords. He was the face of everything terrible she had endured in her life, the very real monster under her bed. Now he had a new victim, a new life that would never be free of his influence. It was sad.

This is how things are, she reminded herself. This is the life of the Forsaken. And truly, you deserve no better. Evil. Vile. Wicked thing.

She was impressed with the child’s quick-thinking. Perhaps this is how she had gone so long unnoticed. It was nothing short of a miracle that Norris had conceded even an inch, but his threat removed any comfort. Nathaira could not remember that last time she cried. She had very likely forgotten how.

Then he noticed the ears. Nathaira had not expected this to be significant. Ugly was good, he liked to remind them of how repulsive they were. And it wasn't unexpected, of course her father had tried to hide her, to pass her off as-- oh no.

Understanding dawned. Of all the lessons taught to them, all the mantras quite literally beaten into them, knowledge of their own inferiority was paramount. They were tainted, unclean, unworthy to exist. Only through the grace and generosity of Humanity were they given purpose. They served Humanity. They should worship Humanity. But they would never, ever, be equals.

She knew the idea that cutting ears could pass an elf off as human would infuriate Norris. Even moreso because, if the cuts had been done well, it probably could have. Men reacted most violently when their beliefs genuinely threatened. If an argument held truth, it must be crushed.

She could not suppress a shiver running down her spine as the tools flashed in the torchlight, nor a nervous flick of her tongue in the air. Every Forsaken had experienced those tools at least once. If Rumer were to reach back and open every wound Nathaira had experienced, why, she would be reduced to ribbons.

She genuinely did not know what Norris wanted to hear, but she hoped against hope that Rumer answered correctly.

 

[Rumer]

She just wanted him to get away from her. Far away. The smell of his tobacco that lingered amongst alcohol on his breath as he spoke to her, his grip that was starting to cause her face to ache. She’d never felt such hatred for anyone.

Her brow creased as her face was yanked from one side to the other, her heart stumbling over a few beats as she sensed she’d done something wrong. He’d noticed her ears, clearly, and for the first time she saw a little of the real Norris. The child grimaced as he gripped at her face and she wished she had the choice of looking away from his raging eyes. She’d been sensitive about her ears because her father had always told her to keep them hidden, they’d disgusted him too, and the comment about her ugliness wasn’t one that could wound her. The roll of sharp instruments however could wound her very much, and her words caught in her throat as she panicked, looking hopelessly to Nathaira and taking a step back..

He would only accept one answer, and she recited things she’d heard the guardsmen and Nathaira say in hopes the answer would spare her punishment “I...no sir. My father sir. He... he was a traitor and tried to keep me hidden. Silly... silly bastard he was. Scum.. Degenerate El.. Elf fucker, Sir..” the guardsmen hadn’t exactly been respectful of the dead, or of her bereavement whilst in her earshot, and her tumult little mind was simply dragging up what she’d heard them say in the hope that Norris would agree, regardless of whether she knew what it meant or not.

 

[Norris]

The girl before him was shaking like a leaf. Surprisingly though, despite her obvious fear, the tears seemed to trickle off. Her voice still wavered, it was quiet and tired, but her answer was sufficient enough.

"Yes, he was a degenerate. It's a shame you had to spend so much time with him, we never would've disfigured you in such a gruesome manner." Norris paced with his head hung towards the ground, releasing a low gruff chuckle before adding, "doubt he told you about your mom. She was a degenerate too. How horrified she was by a thing like you. Ran off with another of her own kind. It's always this way with you half-breeds. The lesser race gives in to their baser emotions, foregoes all responsibilities, and it's up to the human half to do the child rearing. Just unfortunate that in your case, he looked back at the dolleyed girl and pointed, "in your case... your father was also a drunkard and a coward who snipped the ears off of his own flesh and blood. Tragic.

With a loud step the handler turned and moved towards Nathaira. He descended upon her so quickly it's possible the serpentine woman may have shed her own skin. He reached up a calloused hand and touched the half-Naga's cheek. Loudly, so that the child could hear, he declared, "see, imagine if I ripped out Snake-Eyes fangs or plucked each of her scales. I'd be robbing her of who she is. Stealing the... natural beauty she was blessed with away from her. Just as your fool of a father did when he trimmed your ears." He caressed the face of the half-snake slightly and added, "why in the world would I ever do that to one of my favorite pets?" Norris sighed and let his hand drop from the halfling's face. He gave her a half-smile and walked back towards his fabric on the ground. Playing with a loosened tassel he retrieved one of the larger hooks which was connected to a thick brass chain.

He stared at the girl but remained silent for a moment. His eyes scanning her features from feet to forehead. After an eternity he spoke, "so, Dollface, you can heal people and open up their wounds. I'd like to see that. Snake-Eyes?" his head twisted at the call of his loyal Forsaken. "Approach the girl. Have her do that little trick to your other arm."

The man nodded, his mustache crooked from the twisted smile he wore. He'd already cast a reflective spell on the half-Naga. This part was necessary. He needed to see how Dollface's magic worked but more importantly he needed her to understand that she was helpless here. That not even her magic would save her. Plus, he imagined it'd be an interesting sight to see the girl rip open the flesh on her own arm.

 

[Nathaira]

Again Rumer showed herself to be cleverer than she looked. She stumbled a bit on the words, but whether or not Norris believed her he would enjoy the sentiment. Nathaira wished she had been half as quick-thinking when she was the girl’s age, perhaps things would have been easier. Not likely.

She never knew when Norris was lying, but all Forsaken knew that this was not really important. The truth was whatever he or any other master decided it was. Did Rumer’s mother abandon her? Possibly. Did Norris have actual information in spite of the girl only recently being found? She could only guess. She knew nothing of her own parentage aside from what he had told her, and perhaps half of it were true. But that was the point, wasn’t it? Her parents didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. They were just another tool to hurt her, and besides that they may as well not exist.

Her body went rigid at Norris’ touch, even though she did not recoil. His fingers were hot against her face, but there was no pleasure in the warmth. The odor of smoke hung heavily on then, and she steeled herself for a sudden strike which never came. She did feel a small glow of pride at being called a favorite, but it was beneath layers of fear and revulsion. She could very easily imagine Norris ripping the teeth from her head and her flesh from her bones.

Her heart beat fast and hard within her motionless body as he picked up the hook. The clinking of the chain bringing more memories flooding back. Was he going to cut Rumer? Beat her with the chain? Make Nathaira do it? No… she should have expected what came next. He wanted to see for himself, and he happened to have a test subject.

As soon as his command was ushered the rune embedded in Nathaira took action. Its dark fingers spread to every corner of her body like lightning, and she was helpless against its puppeteering. She was walked towards the girl, her left arm extended towards her. Although the rune’s sensation was sickening, she did her best to soften her eyes as she looked down at the child.

She gave a not and the barest hint of a smile. ”Go on, then,” she whispered.

She couldn't remember all of the injuries her arm had sustained, but they were numerous. Any amount of cuts and scrapes could resurface, and she had likely fractured a bone or two.

 

[Rumer]

Rumer's mangled ears had been the only visible part of her tortured body, her arms, legs and torso had barely an inch of unscarred skin left from her father's own version of training. It didn't trouble her too much to have the man disgrace his memory, but her mother... She had never met the elven woman, she had died birthing her, she hadn't run off. Rumer had clung to the fabricated image of her mother in her mind, imagined her to be kind and soft and warm and it was a thought that comforted her. Her brow furrowed furiously at Norris therefore as he lied about her, and she only just managed to stop herself from protesting. Only just. She bit her lip so hard that it bled, and her anger fuelled, turning her cheeks a hot red. He wanted her to react, and she glanced again to the roll of instruments on the floor and nodded slowly.. "I expect so, sir.." she responded in a tired whisper.

Her gaze was downcast once more as she listened to him speak to Nathaira and her stomach turned for her. She wondered why she'd never turned on him when she could do what she could do. Why had this abhorrent human man been able to control them all so when they all had their own abilities to hurt him? What could he do?..

Rumer's eyes lifted only slightly, seeing him choose a tool, feeling his eyes boring into her. When he spoke finally, her eyes closed and she grimaced. If she did what he asked, she'd hurt Nathaira again, if she didn't then he'd hurt her. It was a horrible choice to make, hurt or be hurt. Hurting simply wasn't in her so far unshakeable nature.

The girl hesitantly took hold of Nathaira's arm with a trembling hand, adrenaline flooding her system and beating through her like it was trying to escape, surging so fast she thought she might vomit again. She could taste the familiar saliva thickening in her throat and a few beads of sweat gathered on her forehead as she stared at that hook he held. She swallowed hard and looked up at Nathaira with an apology in her eyes before they closed over, and her grip tightened. Focus. You have to focus...

'She was a degenerate too' ~ 'How horrified she was by a thing like you' ~ 'Ran off with another of her own kind' ~ 'It's always this way with you half-breeds'

Rumer's jaw clenched tightly and she frowned, honing in on her hatred of the man and used it to beckon Nathaira's blood to tear back through her scars, gritting her teeth and growling in frustration before..

All at once, her own scars burst open. Every. Single. One. Though they weren't particularly deep, she felt each one like a fresh blade cutting through her skin all at once, and she cried out and fell to her knees, her clothes quickly soaking up the small but relentless flows of crimson. She remained on hands and knees, her body shuddering against the searing, fiery bursts and she hissed and whined and cried. Fuck the tears. Pain was pain, and right now it was overwhelming. She blinked hazily, watching blood and salted tears paint their spots on the stone. Drip, drip, drip, and she fell dizzily onto her side, fingers and toes curling in agony.

 

[Norris]

It never really got old. Never really got boring.

Seeing a magic user so confident, so self assured, going through the motions of something that came almost like an instinct. And then seeing that glimmer of shock, of sheer terror, that overcame them as they recognized their most prized abilities were turning on them. Twisting, searing, or freezing their own flesh instead of a victim from once. It was a humbling experience for these mongrels. It was a joyous occasion for Norris.

"Very good little one, he said in a mocking tone, "now you know what your own little skills feel like." He fiddled with the hook that was held in one hand as he took a few steps closer to the pair. Careful to avoid the girl's pooling blood. These were new shoes after all, wouldn't do to get them covered in this half-breed's filthy blood. "Don't fight it. Embrace it. I know, I know, it hurts. But you did it to yourself. Didn't flinch when you used these little parlor tricks to kill your father. How do you think he felt as his own daughter was rending his skin open?"

Norris let the chain slide down before spinning the hook on its end in a circle. "I want to make sure you remember this. The first day of your life. Your true life. Everything before today I want you to forget. You're never going to speak to me about anything prior to today. Do you understand?" He did not wait for a reply. Immediately after the words left his mouth he let the chain fly and the hook bore down towards the girl's upper shoulder. He wanted to make sure that the next time she had this ability reflected it opened up this wound. A large hook tearing into the flesh just beneath her shoulder blade.

"Gienvieve?" he called to the other handler still stationed by the door. Her face looked like she was feeling queasy, unsettled. He ignored it. "Heal Dollface here's injuries. Minus the hook." Gienvieve wasted no time. She swiftly moved towards the half-elf and a cooling mist of white overcame the girl's limbs, quickly sealing and numbing the pain on her arms and legs. Her mid-section, where the hook lay, stayed buried into her flesh.

Norris turned to the half-Naga, handing the chain to her and requesting, "pull her towards you. With the chain. When you've pulled her closer I want you to push the hook in further and then have the child heal your arm. I need to see her healing abilities. If you don't mind, that is." He didn't want to order this of her. He wanted to ensure that Snake-Eyes would listen to the command. Enjoy it.

Finally, he reassured the smaller half-elf, "no tricks this time. No more reflecting your magic. If you want that hook pulled out of you then you'll do as Snake-Eyes and myself say."

 

[Nathaira]

Nathaira readied herself for the pain, to feel her left arm rip open at the seams. It hadn’t been too bad before, the girl had just started poking around in some dangerous areas. Genevieve was here, though, and she could heal. Norris wouldn’t want her to die… would he? It was never a sure thing.

She clenched her jaw as Rumer did the same. She saw the concentration, and saw the girl’s young face twist in anger. Good. She was finally starting to understand. Nathaira closed her eyes.

The pain never came. Instead, a shriek from Rumer opened Nathaira’s eyes. Blood was everywhere, the girl’s skin was painted red. Nathaira stepped back, lifting her hands to her chest. Before she could stop herself she turned and looked at Norris, her eyes wide in shocked realization. She should have expected this, it was what he did to the magic users.

Nathaira had very little magic of her own. The powers that had been given to her were defensive, and Norris’ reflective magic would not cause her pain. As such, her training had involved more “traditional” means of torture. But this… horror that she was witnessing, Rumer’s power must have been thrown back at her.

How many injuries had this girl suffered in her short life? There did not appear to be an inch of skin that was not bleeding. Surely… surely there were some new injuries there. She had reacted so violently to Nathaira’s beating that she assumed the girl had known relatively little pain in her life. Cleary she had been very wrong.

Forget your past. Yes… that would make things easier. Remembering would only lead to longing, it would only add to her misery. Perhaps Nathaira had been lucky to never know another life.

Her eyes traced the movements of the hook and chain, and she bit her tongue when it pierced deep into the child’s body. She knew that feeling. She had not expected to be given the chain, and she didn’t know what sick reason Norris had for giving it to her, but she dared not disobey. Norris would know if she held back.

As horrid as it was, it would be for Rumer’s benefit. She needed all doubt burned from her mind. She needed to embrace her new life, accept the pain, accept what she was. Forsaken, by men and gods.

She pulled the chain, hard, to reel the girl in close. She knelt and offered her injured right arm. ”Heal,” she commanded. As she did so, she shoved the hook further into Rumer’s shoulder.

 

[Rumer]

Rumer was going to die here and she knew it. She wasn't strong enough for this, she'd barely been strong enough to survive her father and these people were much, much worse. His words were a muffle to her, her ears pounding with the sound of her thrumming heartbeat. She had to heal herself, and so she tried to focus, her face contorting with concentration.

Then came the hook, plunging into her shoulder and she somehow managed to scream with her entire body, the sound tore through her body like a shard of glass and her eyes widened at the shock of the pain. Her fists clenched around the hook and her teeth locked up once the sound was out, and her chest heaved agonised little breaths from her lungs. She lay there, shaking, every shuddering breath prompting a new hiss through her clenched teeth.

The healing of her other wounds was of very slight reprieve, but the hook in her shoulder called her pain addled mind to attention.

The girl cried out again she was dragged in like a trapped animal being pulled in to slaughter, though had been surprised not to have looked up at Norris at the end of the chain. She let out another strangled scream as Nathaira shoved the hook further into her flesh and she felt blood well into her throat from the tongue she had just bitten through in a failed attempt to keep quiet. The colour had almost entirely drained from the child's sweat covered face, and her darkening eyes stared up at the naga with a pleading look, silently begging her to help her.

Heal, she'd told her...It was difficult to focus when she was passing out, and Nathaira's face was fading in and out of focus. She tried her best to nod, and rested a bloodied hand on the woman's offered arm, and attempted to focus on sealing the wounds by touch, calling the blood to knit the broken flesh, but whether she managed it before she passed out, she had no idea.

 

[Norris]

Had she passed out? The absolute nerve of this halfling. No respect for Snake-Eye’s schedule or the agendas of either handler. Norris’ face burned over in rage.

”Wake her. The hook stays in,” he communicated to Genevieve and Snake-Eyes. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, faintings or loss of consciousness happened rather frequently. It always proved to be an inconvenience though.

Norris yanked on the child’s chain to prop her body back up as Genevieve came to issue her healing mist into the girl’s nostrils. While his junior official worked her talent the senior handler turned his attention back at the half-snake.

It looked as if her arm was only partially healed. The worthless half-elf had passed out before her magic fully took form. ”The blood is gonna dry fully by the time Dollface gets her act together,” he wiped a small amount of sweat from his brow as he continued speaking,”do you want to keep her? The girl who faints? She’s got an attitude, I can tell. Your call Snake-Eyes.”

The older gentleman knew that the girl’s powers were useful. Healing could come in handy. And the idea of using her ability to re-open old wounds on new recruits fascinated him. But the girl was older than most. It’d be a lot of work to get her in line over the next few years. He didn’t think it fair to bog down Snake-Eyes with such a task. No matter how much fun he’d have torturing her for the next few years.

 

[Nathaira]

Nathaira could not explain what she was feeling. She had tortured countless people. She had tortured children, she had killed children. A lifetime of suffering had not completely numbed her compassion, but it had put it into terrible perspective. What could she possibly do to someone that rivaled the horrors she had endured herself?

But now she tortured one of her own. Now she was the trainer, the handler. She glanced at Norris, his cruel eyes shining in the dark. Were they… the same?

No. She did this to strengthen the girl, not for enjoyment. Nine out of every ten people she knew had died within these walls, in this dark underground fortress. Rumer was her responsibility now, and she would not fail. Rumer would not die, not if she could help it, but she would likely come very close.

This was the only way to protect her. It was the only way to make her a strong, and Rumer would hate her for it. If she did die in the end, well, she was never meant to be a Forsaken.

Rumer’s eyes looked up at her, the light fading from them rapidly. Help me, they seemed to gasp. I am, Nathaira thought as she watched the girl fade into sleep.

Nathaira’s arms did mend a little. The skin did not completely close, but the bleeding had stopped and the cuts were not so deep. They would only require bandaging at this point. Rest now, child… she thought to herself. She looked over to Norris. It will be your last for some time. She stayed crouched beside the girl as Genevieve did her work. The girl would awake to the same excuciating pain as before with that hook still in her shoulder.

She considered Norris’ words. He was right. Taking a trainee would be a full time commitment, barring the times when he wanted to work with Rumer himself or when other, more official training requirements must be met. The fact that she had fainted did not bode well, but she had been bleeding a tremendous amount. Her age could be another obstacle. She could be willful, but somehow Nathaira didn’t think obedience would be a problem.

In truth, Nathaira just wanted a change. She wanted something new to do. Her missions were challenging from time to time, of course, but this was something different entirely. She would take this child, weak and fearful as she was, and mold her into a killing machine. She would snuff out the fear and the weakness and replace it with strength. It would be a most glorious distraction from her own life.

”Yess,” she hissed. ”I am sure.” She looked at Norris then, looked into his eyes as she so very rarely dared to do. A determination had overtaken her. ”She will become one of our besst… or she will die trying.”

She returned her gaze to the girl. She wanted her to see her face first thing when she awoke. When she did, she would press a finger to her lips, signaling Rumer to be quiet. Norris would tolerate no more tears.

 

[Rumer]

She'd left a trail of blood upon the stone where she'd been dragged, she'd lost a lot of it, and her body and mind wanted to shut down and black out to the pain. For a short time, she'd fallen into a blissful respite, but she was quickly roused back to her agonising reality.

Her eyes snapped open, wild with pain to see Nathaira's face above her, her pupils dilated and her heart raced in the grip of silent panic, the finger pressed to her lips turning her brain to a mental soup of conflicting instructions. She wanted to scream. She wanted to sleep. But what did they care what she wanted? Her face was soaked with sweat now, and she stared up at Nathaira, wracked with raw, rapid breaths as she tried not to sob, her body in shock and shaking like a leaf.

The pain was too demanding to ignore, but she managed to grip the naga's arm again, and complete the task of knitting her wounds, her lips locked tight as nausea clawed at her throat. If this had been the true punishment of her tears, then she'd dread to see what punishment she'd face for vomiting.

 

[Norris]

Snake-Eyes wanted to keep the girl. Maybe she saw something that Norris didn't. Or maybe she wanted to do a bit of good in the world. The handler didn't really care which so long as he got Dollface here ready for what awaited her. As long as she made the child worthy of the rune she'd receive upon graduation.

"Genevieve. Whisky."

His words were short, annoyed, he was certain that this was a waste of time. But at least now that the half-serpent had agreed to take the lead on it the situation would be her waste of time. The junior handler came back into the room and passed the bottle of whisky to Norris. He uncorked it, took a large gulp, and then approached the recently awoken half-elf.

He bent down again, got level with her eyes. She was exhausted, in pain. "I figure you're too weak to use your magic anymore. That's going to benefit you. You need to feel this pain, remember it. Can't have you healing yourself up as soon as I leave." In a violent motion Norris reached back at the girl and placed his hand on the hook embedded in her flesh. He pulled down and slide it out, careful not to tear any extra flesh on the way out. He didn't want her fainting again.

The still open bottle was hung over the child's injury and then tilted. Alcohol poured over the gashing wound, he was sure it stung but, well, "I don't intend to have Genevieve help you here, this is the best way to make sure it doesn't get infected girl." He re-corked the bottle and held the hook in one hand, holding the bloodied tip near her face while lifting her chin up to view it.

"Pay attention. Snake-Eyes here is going to be looking out for you from now on. She's the only reason you're alive right now. You'll listen to her. And I swear if I hear Snake-Eyes complain about your progress, if Snake-Eyes groans about your bad habits, or Snake-Eyes simply rolls her eyes when I inquire about you," he tilted her head to meet his gaze, "you'll spend a week in this room with me."

His hand dropped from the girl's face, he threw the hook and chain on top of the fabric and walked towards the door. Genevieve, gather my stuff and then wait outside. Get Snake-Eyes whatever she wants."

Norris had more important work to do than babysit the kid who faints.

 

[Nathaira]

She kept her finger pressed to the girl's quivering lips. Hold strong, do not give in. She could feel her arm mending as Rumer competed the final step of her healing. It was an odd sensation. Genevieve's healing gas always gave her a kind of euphoria, a tingling and pleasant sensation. With Rumer it felt more... natural. The wounds seemed to just speed up in their healing, and the pain simply ebbed away. She didn't know if this sort of thing varied with the individual, but she found it fascinating.

When Norris finally left, and Genevieve had carried his supplies after him and left the room, she sat down, letting out a heavy, hissing sigh. Her entire body ached from the tension she had felt when the handler was in the room. Rumer was doing much, much worse... but she was alive.

She looked over the child... and she was a child. She was older than most who began their training, true, but seeing her on the floor, broken, bleeding... she would need to grow up quickly.

She was silent for several minutes, allowing Rumer to think on what had happened, and giving her body time to just do nothing. Whatever food remained was still at the side of the room, but she didn't expect the girl to eat any more. She silently got up and retrieved the half-filled cup of water, brought it back and pressed it to Rumer's lips.

"Drink," she ordered. Her voice was quiet, but firm. Genevieve's magic was potent, but Rumer had still lost a tremendous amount of fluids.

More silence, more watching, more thinking. She felt some pity for the girl, of course, but it was buried deep. More than that, she felt a blossoming excitement for what the future would hold. A new chapter had opened up for her, and a new book entirely had started for Rumer. What experiences would they share together, she wondered? He mind flashed back to her own training, her own mistakes and triumphs, and she immediately began piecing together how they would help this new companion.

When the girl had finished her cup, she would lead her to her room. It would be small, cold, and dark. She would have a thin cot to sleep on but little else, and naturally, the door locked from the outside.

 

[Rumer]

She couldn't stop her mind from conceding to the torment, it consumed her and rendered her unable to bring a single thought to completion. She clenched her jaw and kept her lips locked tightly as Norris bent down to speak to her, angry little puffs of air hissing from her nostrils in fear. There was another wave of nausea as he pulled the hook free of her flesh and her eyes closed tightly, trying to suppress her desperate need to cry out. Fresh, warm blood poured freely from the wound only to be diluted by the sting of alcohol. It burned against the damaged flesh and she growled through gritted teeth, her pain crashing in like waves, each peak robbing her of the ability to breathe.

She stared at the hook as he held it in front of her face, watching her own blood drip from the sharp barb, and his words muffled and echoed in her mind as they ebbed and flowed in and out of focus. She couldn't hide her hate for the man as he tilted her chin to meet his eyes, she clenched her teeth together hard, and gave him no verbal response.

The moment he left, without meaning to her body curled into something foetal, something primeval and all the while the pain burned and radiated from her, unleashing the occasional whimper to echo off the walls. Anger battled the pain in her mind, and she flinched away from Nathaira before drinking the water. She lay numb with the trauma of the day, her mind unable to comprehend how she could possibly survive this life.

She had to lean much of her weight against Nathaira as she took her to her room, her pallor was corpselike and she could barely stand, but she went wordlessly. She didn't care about how dingy and horrible the room was, she didn't care about anything but being left alone to cry and sleep after her first day of training.