Whispers: Sister’s Present
The room was flooded with light. Two large lanterns hung overhead, and several candles burned under various calcinators. Outside the sun was setting, filling the room with a warm red light. Keenlin sat, watching one of them with a focus, finally pulling a beaker from the flame just as it began to boil. As she placed it down to cool, a knock could be heard from the door.
Keen opened the door a crack, only for it to be shoved open. She stumbled back and an angry orc towered over her. He grabbed her neck, shoving the girl against the wall. Behind him, a large human - nord in dress - filed in, a large mace out in his hand.
"Stop squirmin' gel if yeh know what's good fer yeh. Yer sis' sent us ta give you 'er regards. Make sure yeh didna tink she'd fergotten yah. Bu' don' worry, we're both gentlemen. So yeh stop strugglin', we give yeh bit 'uv a bruisin', you go 'bout yer day. Yeh don'?" He grinned, showing a mouth full of perfectly white, straight teeth. "We've got three others outside 'oo ain't gentle, an then we bring yeh to yer sis. So. Yeh gonna be quie' for us?"
She nodded.
"Good, now just stand 'ere pretty like an' let Trent mess ya up. You fall down, stand back up." The orc released her neck and stepped back as the nord stepped forward. Trent began to beat the woman with a cold, detatched precision. He started with her arm, swinging hard at the elbow and bringing a started cry. He reached out and seized her forefinger, stretching the arm out and smashing the girl's hand.
Up until now, the whispers that plagued her had been silent - banished in her concentration and surprise. At this demand they roared back, swirling around her as they spoke. 'That's right, you know this is what you deserve. You know that. They know that. Why don't you just go to her and let her take you again. It'd be better for everyone...'
Throughout the beating, Keenlin stood there, staring straight ahead as her bones broke. Hand. Arm. Ribs. Head - clearly he pulled that blow. When he brough the mace against her leg, it buckled and she fell to the ground with a sharp cry only to stand up again, the whispers still screaming around her. When they finally stopped the beating, Keen didn't even notice - blind and deaf to anything that wasn't the whispers.
Bitch. Idiot. Fool. Slut. It's your fault. Everything would be better if you were dead. That's the coward's way out. Go back to your sister - at least she made you useful. Don't you want that?
The whispers faded as she felt herself being picked up by the orc and thrown onto the bed. He climbed half on top of her, pinning her in place with a knee to the gut, and pulled out a small crystal vial. "Las' presen' afore we letcha get back ta yer li'l life." He grabbed her mouth and forced it open, pouring the contents down her throat.
Keenlin's senses were quickly consumed by fire. It spread from her throat to her chest, spreading out until every nerve ending lit up as if she'd been doused in Kindlepitch and set ablaze.
When she awoke, she was alone and the room was dark. The lanterns had burned through and the candles had been reduced to small pools of wax at the base. Her body hurt, and from head-to-toe she felt raw, as if strips of live skin had been pealed away.
So much for work. You won't be able to fight with your hand - no way to repair it. And your leg - you'll be a cripple...
Keenlin struggled to stand, clutching the wall with her undamaged hand and leaning heavily on the leg they'd left alone. She looked out the window into the darkness and bit her lip. Without magical healing...there was no way she'd heal right. Even with it, her hand was giving her doubts. That decided her and she began to drag herself to Jhacon's place.
How long it took Keen couldn't tell - she'd passed out twice along the way, her ribs screaming in agony. Whe got to the house every window was dark and the grounds were silent. Keenlin forced herself into a semblance of a sitting position and pounded weakly against the door until finally - finally, it opened.