atonementlogs | event 003: the potions

Entry tags:

!event

event 003: the potions

Characters: All.

When: April 1st - 30th

Where: Various locations.

Warnings: None. Please put any warnings in the comment subject if it progresses that way!

The weather will continue to be Spring-like for the rest of this month, with the occasional storm or shower here and there. Once again, all citizen's will be alerted to go to the center of Penance to see about their punishment for the month of April!

As usual, a tent has been set up with plenty of food and drink set up on tables, with another one off to the corner containing letters addressed to each citizen, along with bottles of potion for each. Each person is invited to take a bottle and either drink it now, slip it to someone else, or saved it for later.

The effects are described as being random. The person who consumes the liquid may see the ghost of someone they've harmed in the past that will follow them around, screaming their sins to all around. It mayse severe, nearly deadly pain. It may take away one of the taker's senses, whether it's sight, hearing, touch, smell, or taste, or even all of them.

If citizens would rather go another route, they are free to make use of the Sin Lounge and deliver torture or pain to each other.

For those eager for more, citizens may take as many punishments as they want during the month!

With their new letter collected, it is time for all to decide their new punishment and face it bravely!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The first thing he takes off of the wall isn't anything inherently frightening on its own, just a long, thin length of rope looped in a loose circle. Jezebel takes it as winds it over his hands before he moves behind Ianchus, kneeling on the ground to begin wrapping it around his ankles, circling each individually and then tying a knot to hold them together.

When that's done, he takes Ianchus' hands and ties them together behind his back, linked to his ankles by the same stretch of rope so that he kneels hog-tied. It will hold Ianchus taut until he's released, his arms stretched uncomfortably behind his back, his balance precarious if he moves.

Idly, calmly, Jezebel talks while he works:]

For all our ancestors' creativity when it came to torture, for all the devices they came up with, it was always interesting how sometimes the simplest were the most effective. The human body can only take so much of the simplest abuses before it gives. Centuries ago, I know they would dangle men by their position you're in now, yanking them so their shoulders came out of their sockets while they still hung by their arms in the air.

Edited 2018-04-08 16:52 (UTC)

[His joints pop a little as his arms are pulled back, chest forced out. His eyes narrow a little as he adjusts to the position, the calmness settling over him. His response to Jezebel is soft, his voice low.]

I'd read about that. Rope is a surprisingly effective tool, isn't it? Easy to find, and with the correct maneuvering, the victim can end up doing all the work for you, isn't that right.

[It's not that he delights in the pain of others, but there's always been a near-erotic brilliance that he'd appreciated in the old, forbidden books.

The way he's talking now, he's a little like an eager student, presenting his thesis to a teacher and waiting for his response.]

Edited 2018-04-08 17:58 (UTC)

Exactly.

[Without even thinking, he settles into the same dynamic that Ianchus presents, the teacher providing a lesson to an enthusiastic pupil. His voice stays calm and pleased and quiet, while his hands lightly test the ropes.]

There's a particular way to tie the cords around the neck as well as the hands and feet so that its victims wind up strangling themselves. It's an ingenious little design, with the victim forced to stay taut if they don't wish to be killed, using all of their strength to stay tensed and alive.

Of course, that's not simply torture. It's done as a method of execution, a way to force the condemned into a futile attempt at not killing themselves.

[Slowly but deliberately, he presses the pad of his thumb against Ianchus' windpipe.]

Have you ever been strangled before?

[Has he ever. Just the feel of the light pressure brings back memories, and his eyelids flutter, his breath catching in his throat.

He knows it's one of many things Gennar never understood about him, the way he'd guide his hands up to his neck. He had given up with Gennar, with the faltering, nervous pressure, the contradiction of who Ianchus was and what he asked of him too much for for the Guardsman to reconcile.

But there had been others, all too willing to play along, who knew not to let him go even when he thrashed and clawed.

All of that goes through his mind, but all he says is:] Yes...

You’ve enjoyed it, then.

[He says it with a small grin, because he doesn’t need to ask for the context, from what Ianchus has said of his tastes.

Lightly, his fingernails trail down Ianchus’ throat.]

I could try choking you here, pressing down on you while you’re too bound to throw me off of you. It has a nice simplicity to it as well, the way you only need a good pair of hands to draw the life out of another.

[And admittedly, he likes that physicality of it, that even as someone as slight as him could press and squeeze the breath out of another. No devices, no techniques, just his hands in a firm grip in the right hold.]

But if you’ll simply enjoy it, I imagine this place might not consider it a proper punishment.

[Yes, yes, all of that, until the vessels in my eyes burst and my lips turn blue.

Being choked by someone smaller than him is definitely a thrill of its own. He's already slipping into the train of thought when Jezebel speaks next, and he laughs a little, bumping Jez's fingertips.

Tease!

But Jezebel has a point. It makes him wonder what the room--what Penance--considers torment. Physical and emotional pain, yes; the door opened when Jezebel had whipped him, even though he enjoyed that. Was it the feeling of being close to death, then? Was it his body screaming its limits? Was it the runner of fear that had pierced and mingled with the delight?

He cranes his head up to look at Jezebel's face--his neck isn't as constricted now as it was before, save for the loose, cold collar of hands.]

I suppose I'm a problem child, aren't I?

Mm, that you are.

[He knows Ianchus would much prefer that he indulge him on this. It's easier now to consider what Ianchus desires of him, because the situation is so firmly in his control. Ianchus is bound and subject to whatever Jezebel inflicts or denies. If he wanted to, he could simply leave Ianchus bound, letting his torture be solely the slow, painful tension of his bindings stretching him.

Instead, he meets Ianchus' gaze as he looks back at him, his expression calm and curious, his fingernails still lightly scratching the skin of his neck.]

It certainly does make it difficult to know what to do to you so that we'll be released. Perhaps you'll simply be stuck here forever one day, never able to leave because you enjoy your torments too deeply.

Ah, then I'll have learned my lesson, right?

[It's not something he'd thought about before, but the idea doesn't scare him as much as it probably should. Trapped forever in a timeless room of torments--would he go mad, with no one to talk to, no one to interact with? Likely.]

Or maybe it'll be my turn.

[He says it quietly, musingly--there's no hint of a threat, but he's definitely thought about being on the other end before. He thinks he's twisted enough, but he also wonders whether he'd have the stomach to see something like that through.]

Edited 2018-04-09 06:11 (UTC)

Perhaps it might.

[There is a slight sense of unease at that, because while he doesn't think Ianchus is threatening anything, the last time he'd discussed a sadistic side to himself, he'd been saying that Jezebel could salt & skin his enemies and castrate the men.

Still, he says nothing about that, instead withdrawing his hands from Ianchus' neck so that he can stand up, leaving Ianchus on the ground.]

Do your best to stay still, or else you may very well topple over, and I imagine whatever I choose to do will only be uncomfortable if you're tumbled in a healp.

[At that, he starts running his fingers over the devices on the wall, looking over what was available, eyes scanning the wide variety of implements dangling on their hooks.]

I'd hope you'd set me upright.

[Really, he's incorrigible.

But in this position, Ianchus does realize one more thing--with how he's lain about the last few weeks, doing nearly nothing, his muscles aren't nearly as supple as they were before. His shoulders are starting to ache, and the strain is moving into his neck muscles. A spasm threatens between his shoulder blades like a knife.

He tries to take deep breaths to ease his muscles as he watches Jezebel's back.]

Now what would the fun in that be, if you assumed I'd pick you right back up? You might let yourself fall over after I'd taken all that effort to tie you properly.

[He picks up along, pronged metal bar that hangs off of one of the hooks. It has a button on one side -- after Jezebel looks it over, he presses down and sees a sharp zap of electricity come out between the tabs at the end. It surprises him, making him blink in alarm and then settle into an intrigued look.]

I don't think I've ever seen one of these before.

[Ianchus jerks a little, only hearing a loud noise and seeing a flash of light. The bunch of muscles in his back twinges testily but doesn't go off.]

I...I haven't either. What is that?

[His voice is low, but there's an undercurrent of excitement. He cranes his neck to look.]

Hm, I'm not sure.

[He tests it again, now that he knows what to expect, and his eyes alight at the burst of light and charge that comes from it. Electricity existed by the time he died, true, but not like this, not in devices like the one now sitting in his hand.

One more time, he pushes it, holding it down and watching a longer surge stream in between the prongs of metal.]

It seems to be able to create an electrical charge. Just a small burst, but given that it's in here, that's all it needs to be able to produce a significant amount of pain.

[As he says it, he turns towards Ianchus, kneeling in front of him, the rod of metal in hand.]

Electrical...electricity, like lightning?

[He's only seen it in its untamed, wild variant, massive bolts thrown off by clouds over the ocean. To think that the same could be called at will by something that small is hard to fathom to him.

Instinctively, he pulls back a little, though his eyes are half-closed and focused on the prongs--such an innocuous tool. There's both trepidation and fascination there.]

Essentially, yes.

[He shifts closer to Ianchus with the prod still in hand, heavy in one hand while he places himself directly in front of Ianchus' bound position. The more he speaks, the more serene and calm his voice grows, the preparation easing his tone.]

In my time, we mostly use it for power -- for lights and transport and communications. But it's also used to execute prisoners in other parts of the world. The condemned is strapped to a wooden chair and wires placed on his temples. Then they surge an electrical charge through their bodies, destroying them from the inside in only a few brief seconds.

[Ianchus' chest is bare, which works well for their purposes. Lightly, he presses the metal tabs to his chest, just under the dip of his collarbone, and he lets them rest there for a moment or so.]

I've never seen it myself, you understand. But I've heard it is rather brutal to witness.

[And with that, he presses the button.]

[Ianchus is already opening his mouth to say something, but his teeth snap together with a loud click and clench as the current flows through him. His entire body stiffens, and though the prongs are only set against one small part of his chest, it feels like he's being jabbed all over. He can't move, he can only stare straight ahead as the burning, stinging feeling courses through his entire body.

It's like nothing he's ever felt before.]

[Jezebel watches, curious as Ianchus tenses and spasms at the touch. He only holds the charge for a second or so -- in truth, he's not sure if even a small amount of charge would kill him on the spot -- and then pulls it away, looking over Ianchus as he tenses and quiets.

It's strange, knowing there's no blood, no noise, no immediately visible damage, and yet he knows that it has to be a sort of pain he can't even fathom. What a beautifully clean way to hurt someone.

After he's given Ianchus a moment or so to recover himself, he asks:]

How is it?

[Ianchus sags forward, the bound position he's in threatening to tip him over--but he manages to catch himself, pushing himself back and rolling his head back, feeling limp after the rigidity of the electricity running through him. He gathers enough of him to check where Jezebel had jabbed the apparatus into him, and is surprised to only see the flesh there is just slightly pink.]

It...hurt. It hurt everywhere.

[He looks up at Jezebel, then at the prongs again.]

I couldn't move.

[Jezebel nods slightly at that, his hand still holding the prongs lightly against Ianchus' chest while he glances him over.]

Electricity runs as a current -- I imagine it can reach every inch of your body in less than a second or so. It's like water, very easily flowing through everything.

[He looks over Ianchus' eyes, his jaw, his neck, looking to see if there was any signs of visible damage. As far as he could tell, there was nothing, no wounds nor medical issue to attend to. It was as if the pain had never happened, even though he knows that Ianchus' body must still be thrumming from the pain of it.]

[It is, but it's abating now, considering how short the shock was.]

I've seen lighting destroy a tree, and I've heard of people dying when struck by it. You say that it's been used for execution in your world?

[He tries to imagine that same shock that was given to his chest at his temples instead and gives an involuntary shudder. There's something about the unfocused, ubiquitous pain that unnerves him.]

It is. They say it's quicker than hanging, but I imagine they use a much higher dose than what I just gave you.

[He doesn't really know if it's more or less painful than the noose. But then, he supposes the only people who would really know are too dead to ask.]

Mmm. In my country they would execute with the headsman's axe. Much faster than both, I'd imagine. It felt like burning.

[Another, harsher shudder, and Ianchus throws a furtive glance back at the door--still locked. Nothing to do but regain his composure.]

Let me see it. [He can't help his curiosity, after all.]

Mm, faster if done right, it's true, but too gruesome for some sensibilities, I imagine.

[At Ianchus' request, he nods, pulling away the rod. He lays it out across both his palms, fingers off of the button. Since Ianchus' hands are still bound, Jezebel holds it up for him, flat and horizontal over his hands.]

Making a clean business of death is a morbid pursuit, either way.

[Ianchus stares at it with both nervousness and fascination both, eyes taking in the buttons, the two prongs (dull! you couldn't even skewer a man with them!), the grip.]

It looks so inconspicuous.

It does, doesn't it? I had assumed it was simply for flogging at first.

[Turning it over in his hands, he keeps it laying flat on his palms, but presses the button to show off the burst of electricity igniting its prongs.]

I suppose even in the future, people will always devise newer and better ways to inflict pain.

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture discussion

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture