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

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.

[He jerks a little at the electricity and then leans in a little, unable to hide his interest, a little half smile on his face.]

Ah, yes. The twistedness of humanity is the only constant. I'm sure that man, Marcus, can tell us so many things about what the great minds of the future have come up with.

[Ianchus sits back, eyeing Jezebel.]

I don't suppose you have any interest in trying it on yourself, Doctor?

Not in the slightest.

[His voice is good-humored enough when he says it, but no, there is not a shot in hell that that's happening.]

I'll take my punishments when they're forced on me, but for right now, I believe it's my chance to, as you said, 'pick my pleasure'.

[Holding out the rod towards Ianchus again, he says with a slight smile:] If you hate the burn of the current that much, I may be persuaded to pick something more familiar to you, but I have no intentions of tormenting myself.

Ah! A man who keeps his principle. That's a good thing, I suppose.

[Of course it was a joke, and Ianchus hadn't actually expected Jezebel to oblige. At the offer, he draws himself up as best as he can, lifting his chin up.]

You wound me, Doctor! I have my pride as a sinner. Have at me!

[Jezebel lets out a small laugh, at both the comment and the way Ianchus draws himself up proudly.]

All right. If you insist.

[He presses the tabs against Ianchus' sternum this time, the prongs lightly pushed against his skin. When he pushes down on the button, he holds it for a second longer than last time, letting the electricity pulse of our the rod and into Ianchus' skin.]

[Again, there's the rigidness, the burning through his body, the complete loss of control. He hardly realize he's making little noises.
And again, he manages to keep his balance, just barely, once the current ends. He licks his lips, his mouth tasting like metal, but spitting shows that there's no blood there.]

...T-Terrible.

[For all the agony it must be putting him through, it's still strange to watch due to how little there is as evidence of his torture. No bruises, no blood, no collapse, just the strung out, rigid pose he takes when the electricity flows through him. Even the noises are relatively small, all considered.

He moves the prod away once it's done, looking him over.]

You're handling it well, all told, especially given how you're still upright in those knots.

[Though his back is arched from the bondage, Ianchus' knees are free to spread, which is how he's managed to do it that second time. Widening his base gives him a better balance, and allows him some leeway once his muscles are released from the thrall of the electricity.]

I don't think I will be for much longer.

[His voice is soft, and he confirms his suspicions for himself when he manages to look at the prod in Jezebel's hands. There's no excitement in that black casing and metal prongs--he just feels a runner of fear.]

I...I can't do this with the ropes. Can you untie me?

[The pathway back to the bar hasn't opened yet, which means they'll still need to continue this if they want to be let out. And if Ianchus likely will topple from another shock, right onto the not-particularly-soft surface of the floor.

He nods his agreement, shifting so that he can move behind Ianchus. Jezebel puts the prod down on the floor next to him so he can unwind the knots, deftly loosening them and drawing them open -- first his hands, then his feet.]

[His wrists and ankles give some indication of the severity of the torture--the electricity has caused him to strain against the ropes, and they're already rubbed raw, dots of blood coming up where the skin has particularly worn thin. He seems to sag as Jezebel frees him, and when he tries to lift one arm it's shaking--though whether from the shock or the ropes, he can't quite tell.]

Edited 2018-04-10 02:46 (UTC)

[Jezebel does look over the marks crossing his wrists and his ankles, beads of blood rising up now that the pressure on them has lifted. They swell even more as blood flows back through once the pressure on his limbs is eased, letting it circulate through him properly.

He shifts back around to face him, still holding the prod, but letting Ianchus recover himself.]

The room let you out after three lashes the last time. Perhaps three this time will be enough that you can be allowed to leave.

Let's hope so.

[He takes a deep breath and puts shaky hands over his face. It's odd, to so be dreading something in this kind of environment. It's different from the previous time in the back room, where his body feared the sensation of the lash but his mind anticipated it with excitement.

Even in dire situations, he's been able to channel adrenaline and determination to push through pain, use it as a force.

But all he feels for the prod is a cold fear in his gut.

He swallows hard, and takes a breath--though he's never been one to worry too much about how he looks to others, he isn't used to this kind of fearful weakness.]

One more kiss from our new toy, then.

[He can hear the weakness in his voice, but he tried, at least.]

[For all his calm, he does empathize, really. Not enough to switch places, mind, but he understands the feeling of resignation, of trying to hide weakness even when overwhelmed with dread. Jezebel had not understood Ianchus' fascination with the lash because, in truth, this had been closer to how that particular treatment made him feel.

His expression remains impassive as he kneels in front to press the rod lightly against Ianchus' stomach, lightly pushing into the skin above his navel.]

Here's to 'third time's the charm'.

[And he presses the button down, hearing the searing noise hit Ianchus' flesh.]

[With his arms unbound, Jezebel can see the hair on Ianchus' arms standing up, the way his hands bend at the wrists, his fingers hooked into claws, the impotent sounds that choke themselves rhythmically out of Ianchus' throat.

He's trying to cry out--it's his usual form of release, but all his nerves and tendons seem to be disconnected, turning him into a vessel only for pain.

He's aware of every second, but they stretch out into what feel like minutes, scorching pins seeming to run through his blood.

Stop, stop.]

Edited 2018-04-10 07:27 (UTC)

[He holds the button down for only a few seconds, but he imagines it has to feel as though it lasts for much longer in Ianchus' place. With the ropes undone, it is much more clear what pain he's going through -- his body jerks and tenses unnaturally, the noises he makes that are desperate yet not even close to real screams.

When he releases and pulls the prod away, he looks over Ianchus for signs of any damage, outside of the clear signals of pain written across him. Behind him, though, he can see that the entrance back is clear -- they've passed far enough that they can leave.]

[Jezebel ends up getting a much closer look as Ianchus slumps forward, momentarily greying out. Not falling, per se, but slowly collapsing into himself, until he's partway on the ground and partway in Jezebel's lap. The muscles in his back are still twitching, as are his fingertips, and his breathing is shaky. There's a runner of saliva running down his lip, and he's dimly aware of it (just like he is of the door), but he can't summon the energy to wipe it away.]

Easy now.

[He keeps his hands on Ianchus' shoulders to hold him steady and keep him from collapsing head-first. Jezebel does a quick glance over him, noting the symptoms left behind; he sees how Ianchus has begun greying out, he shifts to hold the back of his head, lightly pushing him back so that he can lie down on the floor -- if he is greying out, the best thing for him is to lay flat so his blood can flow properly once again.]

[It takes a bit for Ianchus to come back to his senses, and when he does he reaches up a weak, shaky hand, putting it over his heart to feel the beat there. It's slowing down, but it was pounding like crazy before, so much so that he feared that it would burst. It takes him a few tries to speak as he opens his bleary eyes.]

I-I'm fine.

[It's not completely true, but he doesn't think he'll die. Maybe if he had to handle another shock.]

[Jezebel knows it isn't entirely true, too, but he won't comment on that. Instead, he just says:]

Just stay laying on your back for a while more. You'll feel better once your blood's had more of a chance to flow through your body without anything affecting it.

[He's never been good at lying still, and though he still feels weak, the pins and needles are receeding. He holds up his hands and examines his arms, awed at the lack of any marks. In fact, the only one he feels is down on his belly, where Jezebel jabbed the prod in for the last time. It's slightly scorched and stings when he touches it, but it's the only sign that anything happened. In fact, he's taken more outward damage from the ropes than the electricity.]

[Jezebel doesn't try to stop him from moving his arms -- as long as his head stays level, it shouldn't do too much to him.]

I admit I don't know enough about this type of torture to say for sure, but I imagine this will have been the worst of it. If the voltage had been higher, it might have done worse, but then, it probably would have just killed you outright. Since you're still conscious and moving, I think with some rest you'll be recovered from this faster than the lashes.

Mm. If it's recovering just to have more of that, I'd rather have the lashes.

[Not to mention, that gave him the added benefit of Jezebel tending to his wounds. This just gave him a world of hurt, with nothing to show for it and nothing to mend. Something about the seeming lack of marks (though the metallic taste in his mouth tells him that it could get much worse) seems unfair.

Then again, maybe he's just twisted. He squints up at Jezebel from his position on the ground, noting the mild interest.]

Was it good for you, then?

[The jape is light and airy at least. His sense of humour is always the first to recover.]

[Jezebel lets out a small laugh at that, still kneeling next to where Ianchus lays.]

I suppose it was -- it was certainly quite the learning experience.

[He's not sure what it says about him that he does feel good, and far more settled than he had been before he'd walked in there. In truth, this wasn't the first time he'd used pain to bring himself back to feeling secure and, more importantly, in control. Ianchus had been at his mercy for this entire session, his torture in Jezebel's hands. Even now, he was laid out on the floor because he'd been too weak to keep himself upright. Perhaps it was sick to feel more stable through torture, but at least he felt the same stability when he helped Ianchus recover as well.]

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

CW: torture

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject