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Post by Sulley on Sept 7, 2009 21:28:21 GMT -5
{ Closed to Chesna.} Sulley stepped out of the infirmary cracking his neck, turning his head at gruesome angles until a satisfying pop followed by a relieved sigh occurred. He'd been in the darn place most of the night, waiting for someone who could heal came along to relieve him of his most recent injury.
It had happened at a recent meeting he had called for members of the Rebellion. Two mutants had gotten into it; one could make harm you inflicted on him also be inflicted upon you, while the other...had green skin. He really hadn't wanted to, but because Sulley had hosted the meeting and was technically in charge, it was his job to get things sorted out between the two.
There was no way around violence.
The short fight ended with the green dude quivering on the ground in fear and the other guy disabled due to a cut across the chest. In turn, Sulley had been cut across his chest as well, but he was a fast healer and once the medics arrived they made quick work of the gash. The other guy wasn't so lucky. He was still lying in a bed.
Sulley placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back to peer at the sky. The simulator showed dawn. With the sun still hiding behind the clouds the shadows from the night were only gradually slinking beneath shapely objects. It was still early, but he figured he might as well get a head start at examining the four corners of the barrier. Maybe after he was finished musing...
Subconsciously, Sulley wasn't focusing his sharpness to any particular place, so it was spread out evenly across his body. Because of this it only had the affect of a butter knife...but hey, it was still an edge. It shouldn't matter anyway. There was no one around.
Right?
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Post by chesna on Sept 7, 2009 21:46:04 GMT -5
Wrong.
She'd fought with herself all night. They had an infirmary and all sorts of mutants. Surely they could do something for her, or at least give her something. More of those drugs would be a dream. Not enough to keep her in the stupor she'd been in before. Just enough to take away this pain that was driving her mad. She woke up each morning to her body aching and her throat itching. It was as though she could never get to it, no matter how she rubbed or scratched. All it left her with was bright red skin and no relief. But her voice was slowly coming back as a deep rasp. Soon, if she was gentle with it, she may even be able to whisper.
Or perhaps she could find some one here who could fix her up and give her back her voice. She'd lost her only line of defense when she'd lost the ability to speak, and she couldn't live that way. Now, what was she to do if another one of the people here... Were they inmates? What would she do if they attacked her? She couldn't imagine what they would want from her. Probably what every man before had ever wanted. It was nothing she was willing to give up again.
Not by force. Not like that.
But if she could just find her voice again! She wouldn't have to worry! She sucked in a breath, and then tried to cough it back out. The air was sharp in her lungs if she breathed too deeply and pain shot through her as her throat tightened from the cough. It came out much like a hard wheeze. This wasn't the way she was meant to sound.
No. She couldn't do this any more. Finally, having given herself enough encouragement, Chesna walked as quickly as she could. Her feet were bare, but the ground underneath was still cool. It was too early for the sun to have brought everything to it's midday boil. She'd made sure to go early. The earlier it was, the more likely it was that no one was around.
Turning the corner, she thought for a second that she was in the home stretch, but as soon as her mind wandered, she missed what was right in front of her. She tried her hardest to stop, to turn around. A squeak fell out of her lips; it was too late. She collided with a man - a man! - and caught herself hard as she hit the ground.
She'd fallen on her right side, so what was that shooting pain in her left...?
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Post by Sulley on Sept 7, 2009 22:02:04 GMT -5
Sulley tilted his head to the side when he felt an approaching presence. Unfortunately, the buffoon was looking the wrong way. Hey, he'd never claimed to be exceptionally aware. The girl was already falling by the time he realized what had happened, and clearly focusing his sharpness into his hair now was futile. The deed had been done.
Last time something similar happened, a dude's shoulder had been almost completely cut off. But that had been different. First off, Sulley had been running. Second off, that guy was being stupid and not paying attention. And third...well there doesn't have to be a third. But it was all his fault. How can Sulley help it if people are too clumsy to watch where they're going? Stupid clumsy people.
Sulley looked pointedly down at the girl...woman. The impact hadn't even made him change his footing to stabilize himself. She didn't look hurt on the outside, but things such as this could be deceiving. As much as he hated to--and you could tell by the angry look on his face--Sulley offered his hand and inquired,
"Are you hurt?" After a moment's hesitation he added in annoyance, "Look, lady, you should really watch where you're going."
The sooner she took his hand and stood, the sooner he'd be able to leave.
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Post by chesna on Sept 8, 2009 10:36:21 GMT -5
"My arm..."
Her voice was like sand: coarse, rough, uneven. She was barely audible. She rubbed her arm gently, trying to ease the now dull throb that went through her muscles. What had she done?
Her eyes widened. Her breath clenched in her. She looked up slowly. His hand was coming closer to her. Had he said something? Still holding onto her arm, she pushed herself around, onto her knees, onto her feet. Her legs felt loose. They weren't quite used to being called on so urgently. Her knees took turns bending inward during each of the four strides she managed.
But when she hit the grass with her bare feet, she landed flat again. She could feel the dew against her skin. She was so tired of falling down. She didn't even attempt to get up at first. She laid face down in the grass, breaking in the moist air between it and her face. She wanted to cry, to sob, to scream, but she couldn't manage any of them. Where was she even trying to run to? Away. But she was living inside walls. He could find her. He could do whatever he wanted. Any of them could. If no one had cared about her when she was free, why wouldn't they now.
That brought a deep, almost primal wheeze from Chesna. It was meant to be weeping, but it came out more like dying. And her arm still hurt; she hadn't forgotten that. It was like a dull rod had slammed her right where her muscles all met. She was perfectly content to just lay in the grass and die.
... as long as he didn't come any closer.
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Post by Sulley on Sept 8, 2009 19:54:42 GMT -5
Sulley watched the newborn lamb stumble clumsily to her feet and try to run away all with a flat expression. What was with the women here? They were either super confident and strong to the point where they seemed almost butch, or they were weak and pathetic and thought every guy wanted to touch them improperly.
Now, to reason, he had heard his fair share of rumors about some of the male mutants here. Sometimes the 'Keep your hands to yourself' rule seemed out of their brain capacity. But hey, not all of them were like that. On the contrary, most weren't. Sulley had actually been surprised at all the decent people. His entire life he'd grown up with the pimps and the thugs and the gang bangers and the addicts and gangsters and--the list goes on. So many earnest and trusty-worthy men in one place was...freaky.
The thought made him snicker, which he realized could be taken wrong by the girl who was stumbling away, though he didn't really care. Heck, let her be afraid of him. Let her think the worst. He huffed and turned his back, strolling away. He'd start with the South Barrier first. That one had something suspicious about it that--
Sulley stopped when she fell. His hands balled into fists. Walk away. Walk away, man, this girl will only bring trouble. His lips curled away from his teeth and he glared savagely at the ground. This was ridiculous. This wasn't what he needed right now. He should be a strong individual. Let the woman suffer on her own. Everyone needed to learn to be alone. It was the only way to survive in this hell. He didn't want to help her and become a reliant. He didn't want to have someone to look after. He didn't want a burden.
He didn't want to turn around sharply and stomp over to her. But he did.
Without speaking Sulley reached down and attempted to slip his arm under her body, turning her over so that her knees would bend easily when he tucked his other arm under them to steady her as he lifted. If she flailed or tried to fight him, he'd only tighten his grip and handle her less gently. When Sulley Dew Trace offered assistant, you were going to take it, even if that meant throwing you over his shoulder.
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Post by chesna on Sept 8, 2009 20:57:09 GMT -5
Feeling him grab her opened a flood gate inside Chesna. Her mind raced all the way back to the first time she'd ever been used by a man, six years ago. And from there, it ran all the way back to the present, stopping at every moment a man put a hand on her when she didn't want to be touched. For that split second, she could feel every filthy dollar that had ever been handed to her, see the sneers of the "customers" who thought of her as nothing, smell the sweat that came with the only occupation she was qualified for. And as he lifted her, Chesna could feel the strings pull in her limp body. She was tense, ready to do anything to get away. The life had come back to her. The desperation she'd though she'd escaped all came rushing back.
She didn't scream. She couldn't without doing more damage to herself. So she did the next best thing: she kicked and bucked and jerked. Anything to get away from his hands, to escape his grip. Purely out of habit, she released two words that exited her mouth as though they were being pulled from her.
"No... no...!"
She hadn't wanted to be right. She had wanted to think for the first few hours that these people she had been locked away with were good, decent people. But she now saw how wrong she was. This was a prison, and there were no real rules. This must be the "alpha male." He was big enough, and he must be strong enough. It took nothing more than Chesna running into him at a quick walk for him to do some damage to her. Now, he must be trying to take what he saw as "his." Well Chesna had something else to say about that. She wasn't going to be a victim again.
So she kicked and clawed and longed deeply to have her voice back in her. She could have put him down and ran away by now if only she had her voice. It was what had always kept her alive. And it had been taken from her, so she could do nothing now but struggle and wheeze.
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Post by Sulley on Sept 11, 2009 16:59:41 GMT -5
The girl wasn't heavy at all. On the contrary, she seemed under weight. It was either that or Sulley was just not accustomed to the strength he'd gained from working out for all those long hours in prison. At first she was compatible. Sure, a bit stiff which made it hard to feel like he was handling her gently, but that was okay. When he decided to help he never agreed to her having to like it.
But then the horse began to buck.
Maybe 'horse' is a bad term. No, instead it was like holding a large cat with sharp claws and teeth that had just seen a dog. The woman's hands flailed, her legs avoided his arms, and suddenly her weight was shifting violently.
"What the---" A smack to the face shut him up, turning his head with the impact. She didn't seem to be aware of what she'd done. With an angry grunt Sulley jostled her and tightened his grip, hoping to scare the girl and then contain her. The thought of cutting her throat--how easy it would be--slithered its way into his head, but he quickly banished it and tried to focus on her so that his mind wouldn't run away with his body. That's what always happened when he did something terrible. It was because he thought too much, and when he thinks too much something bad always happens. That's why Sulley preferred to rely on instinct. Like now.
"Shut up. Just...shut...up." He growled between clenched teeth, jerking her hard against his chest. "You're weak. And pathetic. At least let someone who's trying to help do what they can. I'm not going to hurt you," he turned towards the door of the infirmary and headed in, muttering, "unless you give me a reason."
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Post by chesna on Sept 14, 2009 10:56:12 GMT -5
He held her tighter, and he was stronger than her. Much stronger. She tried to struggle for a minute more, but it was no use. She let her limbs fall limp and set her eyes into a glare. He said that he wasn't going to hurt her, but what reason did she have to believe him? She'd been hurt just by running into him. But she couldn't move any more. Even if he lied and he did want to hurt her, he easy could now. She wasn't strong enough for him.
But the way he kept her still didn't show any rage or hate for violent tendencies... Well, the way he spoke may have displayed some violent tendencies, but he wasn't physically tossing her around. She viewed him now not with fear but with an anxious curiosity. What were his plans for her then? He called her weak. He called her pathetic. But he said he was going to help her. Perhaps she needed that. She couldn't even help herself anymore.
She kept her fists clenched tight and her breathing was labored, but she didn't move. She opened her mouth once in an attempt to speak, but the words came out in a short, forced hack. She tried again, this time with more success. "You... have no reason... to help..." She stopped, needing a break already: not only from speaking, but from hearing herself. Her voice was so harsh against her ears, sounding more like a dry hiss. She could feel the swollen pipes of her throat scratching against each other with every word she managed. She was so sick of the pain.
After her long pause, she started again. "Don't---" A stifled cough, dry and harsh. She took in a hard breath through her nose. "--- even know... my name.
Nor did any one here. She even doubted that any one outside of this horrible place remembered her. Were they to pass by her on the street, would they look at her and think of the pretty little child she had been years before? Or would they see nothing more than the filthy whore she was ashamed to have become? Maybe that was all he saw too: just a filthy little whore.
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Post by Sulley on Sept 14, 2009 18:30:45 GMT -5
Nothing from her looks implied she was a whore, but Sulley wouldn't have been surprised if he found out she was. There was a certain grimy feeling to her--not her skin--that reminded him of home. He'd been around his fair share and more of those women, not necessarily employing them for a night, but still in their midst, breathing in their air. There was a familiarity he shared with the women whose nights were sleepless and whose days were haunted by hungry shadows.
He let the poor thing croak out all she needed to before responding. He wasn't sure what was wrong with her exactly; it could be sickness, or it could be a side affect of her mutation. From the way she responded to not being able to speak and the hacking coughs, he could assume she wasn't always this way. He'd much rather see her healthy. For some reason he couldn't see an image of her looking cleaned up and smiling in his head. Another aspect of the grimy feeling.
"We're mutants. Names are decorative for us." He said gruffly. Oh yes, he was a man of many names. Sulley. Raze. Murderer. Mutant. They were all just patterns of speech given to him by others. They had no material meaning.
He looked down at the girl, and suddenly her limpness was all the more real. Holy crap, was that concern that just spiked through his head? He showed no visible sign except quickening his pace to get into the Infirmary, and maybe his hand widened a bit to make sure he was properly supporting her.
"I guess if you think a name is necessary, though, you could tell me yours." And that was his way of asking her name.
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Post by chesna on Sept 14, 2009 19:08:30 GMT -5
Chesna's eyes fell to the ground. This was the first time that she'd been properly asked her name in a long time. Well, perhaps not properly, but it wasn't "So what should I call you, sweetheart?" She shuddered at the thought. Mustering enough air to try a whole sentence, she croaked out, "My name... is Chesna.
[/b]" She drew in more air; a hollow wheeze came from her as she did. She thought before she said anything else. " They... they used to call me 'the Siren.'[/i]" It was hard to believe. Now, her throaty squawks qualified her to be the Crow more than it did the Siren. But she could remember the days when she had earned that name. She remembered them fondly. She longed to have them back. Hence the infirmary. But now, things were more difficult. She was being dragged in, unlike how she had planned. In her mind, she was going to take control of herself and go in with her head held high. Once again, she was being forced to go where ever some one else wanted her with her mind broken and her eyes set at her feet. But he wasn't hurting her. She had to keep reminding herself that. In fact, he seemed to be trying to make her comfortable. And he was patient as she spoke, or he was faking it well. Either way, it was all much more than she had expected. For the first time, some one who was holding her against her will was being mindful of her feelings. It seemed like a bit of an oxymoron... Finally, she let her gaze drift up to meet his. Her lips was set in a strong pout, trying to mask their quivering as she looked the man in the eye. She pulled more air into her lungs. " ... and yours?[/i]" Those were all the more words she could pull out of herself for the time being. Completing a sentence had been an accomplishment for her. She couldn't risk getting carried away and paying for it later. [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by Sulley on Sept 14, 2009 19:20:55 GMT -5
Sulley grunted. Her name sounded like a car's. That aspect of her was familiar as well. How many women had he met in the ghetto who had names like Lafawntiqua and Nissalvia? Chesna, pronounced Shezna, fitted. And somehow it fitted this woman too. Sulley absently noticed her large lips being amplified by her pouting.
The infirmary was pretty empty, a lot like how it was when he'd gotten there. Apparently the people who could heal had better places to be than just sitting around waiting for an injured mutant to stumble in.
Sulley headed towards the room he'd used, figuring they couldn't have filled the bed that quickly. There was no life in the building. Maybe they were all taking a coffee break...at the same time.
"Call me Raze." His constant frown took a breath as he lifted an eyebrow and peered down at Chesna, inspecting her for a moment before placing her on the bed. The sheets had been made again. The room smelled like latex and alcohol. Mmmh, alcohol.
Well, now that she was on the bed, she was out of his hands. She could scurry away for all he cared, but at least he wouldn't be going on his way knowing he'd left a girl face down in the dirt. Placing his hands on his hips, Sulley stood there for a moment. Then he thought of something.
"Who are they?"
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Post by chesna on Sept 14, 2009 19:36:53 GMT -5
So he wasn't handing around his given name. Fine. Chesna could understand why some of the mutants would stick with the name they had decided on themselves. Hers had been handed to her, but it was fitting. She enjoyed it, so she had kept it.
His question required more of an explanation than she could give in her current state. She didn't mean to sound enigmatic, but she knew it would come out that way unless she pushed herself past her limits. She would try to get straight to the point.
"Men who did---" She waved a hand over her throat. "--- this to me... The ones with the drugs... Needles... Tubes... The men made me this way.
[/i]" The last line was hardly a whisper, but in it was all of the rage, pain, sadness, and hatred that Chesna had held inside of her since being taken away. Her eyes narrowed and sharp tears formed in the corners. They were not tears of weakness though. In her eyes was every single evil thought that had ever passed through her head. It was every time she could have killed a man, every time she'd hurt some one else, every night she wished she could take back. In those tears were her strength. She wasn't a broken doll under her little girl's exterior. Inside her was a lifetime's worth of pain and suffering, and from that came a vengeful spirit. She was hurt, yes. She was weak, for the moment. She was pathetic... Not quite. At the moment, she was as pitiful as they come, but when those tears hit her eyes, they exposed everything. The tightness in her face showed that she wanted more. She wanted to hurt the people who had hurt her, and she was ready to do anything for that chance. She wanted a second chance to be all the things she could have been. She was tired of being a victim, not even worth a second glance. She was tired of being an item, something to be thrown away at the end of the night. She was ready to be strong. Well, not quite ready. She couldn't muster any strength without her precious voice. [/blockquote][/blockquote] |
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Post by Sulley on Sept 14, 2009 19:55:36 GMT -5
Sulley's face hardened as he looked down at Chesna.
Drugs...needles...tubes...men. She couldn't have told him more clearly if she'd screamed it at him. He knew what those meant. He knew what they did. He knew how they worked. He knew how to work them. And suddenly, he knew who she was. What she was. Sulley didn't bat an eye.
Instead he peered into her eyes and through her tears, reading the woman as if she'd written herself down on a sheet of paper. Without being told he knew what she'd done and what she'd gone through. He didn't sympathize; he didn't suddenly care about her or have this desire in his heart to help. Neither did Sulley judge or think her a worm. Nope. He just looked down at the weak woman he'd picked up off the ground and brought into the infirmary and had a distant thought about what he would do once he left the room.
"So kill them." It wasn't a suggestion. He was telling her what he believed was the right thing to do.
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Post by chesna on Sept 14, 2009 20:07:03 GMT -5
Chesna didn't move, but her eyes darted between the man - Raze - and the floor. Breathing hurt her, but she had more to say. She ignored the pain. This was far more important.
Coughing twice, this time smoother than before, Chesna said only two things before pursing her lips together.
"The day I leave here... I plan to."
Her tone was as matter-of-fact as his had been, as though they were talking about the weather. She did plan to leave this hell. She didn't say it, but written on her face was the rest of what she was thinking: and I'll do the same to any one who stands in my way, from now until the day I die.
These thoughts eased the flames that engulfed her vocal cords. Just this one morning when she let herself look a man in the eye and speak to him like she was his equal had broken through the torment she felt after being abused for years. Nothing would take away the hurt, but she realized now that she had an option. She had been ready to kill earlier when she'd first encountered Raze. She could easily let that feeling bubble back to the surface.
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Post by Sulley on Sept 16, 2009 17:03:45 GMT -5
Sulley held his blank expression for two beats, and then a smile broke out across his face, narrowing his features and igniting a twinkle in his eye.
"In that case, call me Sulley."
He would have shaken her hand if she were standing. It was amazing how helpless and at the same time very much so helped this woman could look. She had a ferocity in her aura that would have been overwhelming if Sulley's hadn't been just as feisty. They seemed opposites, but in actuality they had almost too much in common. Well, except for the fact that he was capable.
"If you ever want to do something about getting out of here then see me," after a pause he added, "when you're better." And with that, he made as if to leave. . .
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