tampered | (no subject)

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(no subject)

When; Forward dated to Wednesday 18th
Rating; R for violence and blood
Characters; Setsuna, Riffael and Jezebel
Summary; The last of the murders. Setsuna's off on his own, in a forest (somewhere by the beach). Not a bad target doing something stupid like that, no?
Log;

But Setsuna liked to get away on his own from time to time. In particular, today was about looking for a way home once more, and, maybe, finding out where all of the furry critters from the other day went. Maybe they lived there. They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, right?

His powers seemed a little lighter today, so he didn't bother with his wings and flying, instead walked and enjoyed nature around him. Like he had so many times prior, absently, his focus narrowed, oblivious to the world around him, simple noises became nothing but background. It would be so easy to sneak up on him in this state.

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It was too easy, really, and mostly bad luck for Setsuna. Riffael was bored, tired of having to work with Jezebel but willing to carry out these theatrics of the Cardmaster's as long as he was having a good time of it. And Setsuna, with his pretty features and the delicate look to him, looked so delightfully breakable.

Riffael smiled and slid into step beside the boy. "Wonderful weather we've been having lately, wouldn't you agree? It is nice for a walk outside, I suppose."

Jezebel was just as displeased with the arrangement as Riffael was; the other man was far too arrogant, and he disliked his attitude. But they were stuck together nonetheless, and all in all, following this young boy was proving entertaining. It did not hurt that his appearance was rather similar to a certain half-brother of his.

Jezebel sidled up to the boy's other side, wearing as cheerful a smile as he could muster before adding to Riffael: "How curious to find someone else out here beside ourselves, though I suppose with such good weather, it only makes sense."

Setsuna was a bit taken aback by the sudden company, but kept walking in stride, not so thrown off he couldn't engage in conversation.

"When the hell-?" Or some sort of conversation. He looked around them, trying to figure out just when the two joined him, but then shook it off, his mouth running ahead of him to answer the questions.

"Why's weird to find someone else out here? Other people don't come here often?" Setsuna asked, then remarked, "I think it's more weird to start talking to a complete stranger. Although, yeah, I thought the weather was good for a walk myself."

"Though, with your condition, is it really wise?" Riffael smiled slowly in mock concern, reaching out suddenly to grab the boy's wrist. He looked so much like Cain, it was striking-- in a way that was at once irritating and so very tantalizing. He wondered my the Cardmaster had chosen this boy, wondered if this had anything to do with it, but, either way, it did make things even more... enjoyable.

"It seems you've forgotten your medication, Setsuna," he murmured, leaning down so his lips just brushed the boy's ear, eyes flickering up to meet Jezebel's in silent understanding. The boy would need to be drugged sooner rather than later, considering all he was capable of.

Jezebel shifted a bit closer, in case the boy tried to run or, more foolishly, fight them. "You're quite right. It wouldn't do well for you to get ill," he said, retrieving a small syringe from his pocket, already equipped with a long hypodermic needle and filled with a clear, clinical liquid.

His hand grabbed at the boy's other wrist, his voice low as the needle slid under the skin of Setsuna's wrist, slipping inside until it struck a veing. "Hold still," he murmured as he injected the medicine, his grip on Setsuna's wrist tightening.

While the whole thing seemed merely strange earlier, and Riffael's words baffled Setsuna, it wasn't until he realized lips had been right on his ear that the situation finally registered as very wrong and alarming. "Hey! Don't do that!"

"And! Wait a minute. What the hell are you going on about? I don't take medica-" Setsuna's words broke off at the feel of the needle, the rest of him catching up with his mouth. His irritable expression was obvious at first, but soon slipped into blank as the drug started to take affect, quickly. There had been a feeble attempt to wrestle his wrist away, but his struggles went limp before he could manage and the drug had hold of him.

Riffael held the boy tightly, making sure he did not struggle and keeping him still until the drugs had a chance to work. To the doctor's credit, the effect was almost instantaneous, but he did not relax his grip, leaning down over Setsuna and sliding a hand over his shoulder curiously, then up his throat to his hair, fascinated by the similarity between this body and his pretentious little lord's.

"It's too bad, really," he muttered, looking back over at Jezebel with annoyance. "It's more fun when they struggle."

Jezebel noted the way that Riffael touched the boy -- he imagined the other man had noticed Setsuna's resemblance to the Earl as well. This would certainly be interesting for them both, though for the moment, he didn't comment on Riffael's caresses.

"Better to have him succumb quickly than give him the chance to cry for help," Jezebel said, arcing an eyebrow at the other man before pulling a scalpel from his pocket, toying with it idly. "Besides, the true fun hasn't started yet."

Well, not that his opinion was being asked, but Setsuna didn't think it fun if he had to struggle in a situation, nor did he think it any fun being unable to. Unfortunately, his world was fading into something colorful and vastly removed from what was really happening.

The touches barely registered, while normally they would incite fury on Setsuna's part. Now they felt fuzzy, far away, like his skin was distanced from his nerves, a foreign object. And the scalpel? Was a candy cane. Their words were slurred and unrecognizable, as were faces, either replaced by others, or just out of focus.

Setsuna tried to protest, but nothing but a soft, "Nnnn," came out, the effort just too much for him right then.

It was amusing, watching his eyes grow dumb and distant, feeling him go limp in his arms. Riffael set the boy down, letting him down on his back upon the grassy floor. "Very well."

He crouched beside Setsuna, looking into his face. "He looks like the Hargreaves boy, don't you think, doctor?" He looked up, smirking darkly. "Like your dear, sweet brother? Doesn't it make you want to hurt him?"

Jezebel arced an eyebrow at Riffael, toying with the blade in his hand casually as he stepped closer. "Perhaps. Though in your case, it seems to make you want to caress him," Jezebel said with a smirk. "But I suppose I shouldn't interrupt any indulgences towards someone who looks like your master."

Setsuna seemed to try to sit up, but he barely raised his head some. That failing, he put one hand out in front of him, as though trying to reach something only he could see. Something about their conversation, garbled as it was, scared him a little. Hurt. Caress. Some words filtered through, though voices sounded deeper than they had earlier, and he wasn't even sure who he was with any longer. What had happened earlier?

"Nnnn," he tried to speak again, but didn't get very far.

Riffael scoffed, catching the boy's hand and twisting it cruelly to take his annoyance at Jezebel out on Setsuna instead. He wouldn't have a hand soon enough anyway, so what did it matter if he broke it now?

"You're the one who is jealous of him," he pointed out coolly. "Isn't that right? Jealous of how much attention your precious father pays the boy when you're the one who deserves it. Jealous of his looks and his pretty eyes." Riffael smiled, cold and deadly, almost reptilian. "That look in your eyes when you think of him is hardly brotherly, Jezebel.

"Do you know what fate befalls Lavinia, and why Titus Andronicus is viewed with such distaste? It portrays people acting on their true desires-- like to the sorts of unspeakable things you want to do to your brother."

"You speak of my unbrotherly desires, all while unable to keep your hands off of him," Jezebel said, his smirk growing wider. "You have no need to lecture me on my Shakespeare. Judging from your touches, I can only guess you're quite ready to playing out Lavinia being ravished? It would only make sense, given the boy's similarities."

Setsuna's eyes widened when his hand was wrenched and twisted. Pain flooded him, a scream ripping from his throat as he tried to pull his hand back. Okay, never trusting that blurry space again. Whatever was there, he wasn't putting his hand near it again. Not for any-

So much pain, still. Drugged he might have been, the world a haze, but pain registered clearly.

Feeling a little more alive after that, but not at all anymore clearheaded, Setsuna tried to sit up once more, a desperate attempt to leave the area, even though he couldn't recall why he needed to. Still, his hand was throbbing, and he felt a distinct fear. Not that his attempt to rise would get him far.

Riffael only laughed, and when Setsuna tried to sit up, backhanded him idly-- but hard enough to knock him back down instantly.

"You say these things as though you expect me to have shame, Doctor." It wasn't attraction, not really; it was more the desire to destroy Cain utterly, to disobey the Cardmaster just for spite, and Setsuna was just close enough to be amusing. His fingers curled in Setsuna's hair, dragging his head up suddenly, nails scraping his scalp. "Tongue first."

"Oh, on the contrary. I know you have none," Jezebel said, his gaze turning towards the boy. How pitiful, he was still trying to fight the drug and run away. Not that it would do much. Jezebel had given him more than enough of the drug to keep him from being a problem.

"Very well. The tongue first," Jezebel said, thumbing the blade of his scalpel before reaching for the boy's chin. "Hold his jaw open, will you?"

It wouldn't have taken much effort to send Setsuna's listless body back anyway. He went down much like a doll, nearly lifeless, limbs not even trying to fend for himself or prevent his momentum. But yes, despite how it felt, and how he didn't even know what was happening any longer, Setsuna still tried to fight the drug, when he was remotely lucid enough to tell something was wrong.

When his head was held, though, Setsuna couldn't understand why. Fingers slightly pinched his skin, perhaps they were supposed to feel harder, but they felt fuzzy, like his vision. A pressure was there, and his head wasn't moving away, not that it looked like he tried. Oh, he did, but his head went no where, seemingly content to stay there, until he heard the word tongue. What about his tongue?

"Ton...."

"With pleasure," Riffael agreed, meaning it completely, and dug his fingers into the boy's cheeks to force his jaw open. Making sure he kept it that way, Riffael tilted Setsuna's head back for a better angle, his other hand tight in the boy's hair, and waited expectantly.

Jezebel smiled serenely; there was something quote wonderful about seeing this boy so completely helpless to them, even as he seemed to float in and out of consciousness. His resemblance to Cain only made it more satisfying to watch. Riffael had been right -- he wanted to hurt the boy very badly.

He reached for the boy's mouth, his blade slipping in past his lips while the fingers of his free hand held the tongue in place. For a moment, he did nothing, instructing Riffael: "When it's done, tilt his head forward. The festivities won't be quite so interesting if he chokes on his own blood from this."

And with that, the blade moved, slicing through as much of the tongue as he could in one motion. It took a few cuts, the scalpel sliding through the tough muscle, but in only a few seconds it had been severed completely from his mouth.

It was fuzzy at first, but pain started to register through his mind, searing discomfort. He tried to pull his head away from it, but couldn't move it. Tried to scream and yell obscenities, but without his tongue, he couldn't properly form anything coherent.

Frustrated and confused by that, and in severe pain, and unable to move anything else in protest, tears formed at the corner of his eyes, and the blond tried to kick out. His foot didn't get very far, though.

A metallic taste filled his mouth, warmth, and thick. He gagged on it, blood dripping from the corners. It's nearly an instinct to spit, but he can't, pain halting him the second he tries.

Edited (the lack of blood was bothering me, sorry) 2012-04-24 04:01 (UTC)

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