i think i might make a new blog, i’d keep this one as an archive as I’ve got loads of memories in here but ngl I’ve been craving a fresh start as of late
i feel like the content i initially put out and the content i do now don’t really match, and that’s been bothering me because i don’t want to delete the old content, but also i don’t want to be beholden to it hmmmm
“There’s something about a knife,” she started and she tried not to purr. She really did but the pleasure runs through her anyway, getting caught in her throat before releasing itself and making a home on her face.
She smiled as the prisoners quivered before her, trying desperately and failing to hold onto the hatred that had kept him alive and stubborn so far. It was quickly being replaced by fear as they both gazed at the golden glow of the weapon in her hand. It was beautiful and Lehan couldn't help but smile at it, half-tempted touch it herself. It was only a momentary temptation.
She really didn't want to have to explain another burn to Zeria who would in turn scold her without ever asking questions. She was good at that and Lehan appreciated being able to do what needed to be done without worrying what her best friend would think. If Zeria knew the truth, she’d be mortified and Lehan would probably be back in the Desisian Pits before she said a word otherwise.
Not that she wouldn’t deserve it.
She shrugged the thought away, once again putting the blade into the burning embers. The fire leapt and danced as she stoked the flames. The blade, once an exquisite jade in its complexion and closer to the shape of the thinnest knitting needle, glowed red-hot, orange, and burning white.
Wrike’s gaze flickered over to his companion. Lehan cocked her head, mouth upturned, noting the look. She'd have to switch her target then.
“There’s something about a knife,” she repeated, “with its smooth curves or its jagged edges. They’re so versatile.” She smiled again, rolling the word around in her mouth.
Proud.
Zeria had taught her the word yesterday and she was finding new ways to use it. The queen was teaching her quite a few new words and Lehan was enjoying expanding her vocabulary. She didn't mind learning and Zizi was a good teacher.
Patient.
Something Lehan was currently running out of. Her hands ran over the handle of the knife, hoping what she had in mind for the captain worked. Once again, she took it out of the flames, watching it throb with the heat, turning to her captive. They looked up, the chains wrapped around their wrists clanging and clanking as he twists and turns in a futile attempt to get away from her and the burning weapon in her hands.
“It’s...it’s alright, Letty. It’s okay.”
She tsked. Shook her head, eyes hardening. “No, Captain. It’s not. Don't reassure her unless you’re going to do something to stop her pain.”
He ignored her. Letty continued to shake. “Just look at me, yeah? Look at me, Letty!”
Lee smirked and stepped in front of the man. She’d had enough of this.
“And why should she, Captain? Are you going to save her from this? Are you going to save yourself?” Just as she thought, he didn't answer. She continued, “With a knife, you have to get close to your victim and that means you see everything - their shock, their anger, their fear. And that's what you are, Captain Key, a victim, my victim." With one smooth motion, she turned and grabbed his hair with one hand, pulling until they were eye to eye.
"You're not a warrior, not a survivor, nothing as special as that. You're just debris,-" another new word, another fun word, "on the battlefield. Something to be discarded when the fighting is over. You don't matter in the grand scheme of things. None of us do. The sooner you realize that the sooner this can end."
She shrugged and drove the needle through the captain’s shoulder. Watching.
Shock. Fear. Agony.
And then a shrill, terrified scream from Letty and a hoarse scream from the captain when the shock finally wore off and his brain no longer protected him from the pain.
“Now, Letty,” she waited for the screaming to die down, waited for them to turn into groans before addressing the young, quaking thing in front of her, “You seem a lot more reasonable than your captain. Tell me where General Montrose is hiding Taron Caslon and I promise your captain won’t suffer anymore than he has to, yeah?”
“I don't...I-I-I don't know who that i-is.”
“Not good enough," she hummed, lips pursed, "I think you do. I know you, your captain, and the rest of your squad were responsible for ambushing his squadron. I know you delivered him to General Montrose a little over a year ago and I also know you’ve been guarding him whenever the bastard has to leave his precious, little vexo. I deal in secrets, Letty - information - and I don't really like being lied to so before I put another needle through your captain's shoulder, I’ll ask you again: Where is Taron Caslon being held?”
The little scout remained pale and stubborn and shaking. She stared at her writhing captain, silent.
TW: blood, war crimes, brief mentions of child abuse, dehumanization
She is as familiar with the concept of good and evil as she was with the concept of black and white. Zeria believed in the grey. That's what she needed Lehan for and that's where the assassin usually stood. She couldn't be the bright, innocent queen their world saw without the shadow Lehan provided.
The concept of good and evil was created for the naive and the innocent who needed to believe in a boogeyman and refused to believe in reality. Lehan doesn't believe in it. She's not naive and she's far from innocent.
Sometimes, the things that people call evil are necessary and that's the reality of the world. That's what Lehan is. She is a boogeyman, a shadow, a wraith, a vixen. And she is necessary.
The screams dont bother her. They’re little more than white noise as she makes her way to her latest prisoner, black boots clicking against white stone. She hopes the rest of her crew brought their earplugs. Kelley, in particular, is bothered by the noises their prisoners make but the woman was good at her job - one of the best in fact.
She'd put another order in just in case.
No one would hear their screams anyway.
The blood doesn’t bother her either but she does frown as she steps in a puddle of it, sighing when her boots squelched. She's been through too many battlefields, seen far worse than the prisoners she keeps down here. Even still, it needs to be cleaned. She could have Jameson see to it. She'd also need to talk to the crew again about keeping things neater.
The mansion, her mother’s mansion, stood on fifty acres of land, surrounded by woods and lakes and mazes that would drive any man, woman and child insane. They’d almost driven Lehan insane once upon a time. This was her home and due to Neasa Rynn’s molding and constant criticisms, Lehan knew the property by heart. There was no corner of the estate and its underground palisades, she hadn't ventured through as a child.
Dungeons or not, the last thing she needs is one of her prisoners dying from infection with secrets in their minds. They needed all the information they could extract if they were to survive this war.
“Morning Boss!”
She would answer for this when it was all over. She's not dumb enough to think there won't be any consequences for her actions - even if Zeria would do whatever it took to see Lehan remain free. Whether they won or not, there would be too many people calling for Lehan's head. There would be no way for her friend to ignore it. After everything Zizi has sacrificed already, Lehan would see to it she didnt anything more for her sake.
I'll have to make sure I look just as fabulous for that execution too.
“Morning Dom.” Lehan gives Dom her first, genuine smile of the day, leaning forward and taking the clipboard from her hand, “Progress?”
“Cells sixteen, twenty-one, and fifty-five are on track. Thirty-three, seventeen, and sixty-four have been a little fighty this morning. Seventeen broke Issy’s nose so Asha is requesting food and water privileges be revoked for a few days for those three. She’s going to need your sign off on that. Jameson is having trouble with his taser again. Any word about getting new ones?”
Dom shrugged as Lehan flips through, perusing last night’s reports for only a moment. Pleasing Zever's court had kept her busy last night and the information obtained from airy laughs and false pleasure had been invaluable - no matter how dirty she felt. No amount of showering would wipe these sins from her soul.
“I’ll see to it. Is the taser working on his prisoner?” she asked, “Or is he being lazy again?
There were days Lehan wanted to throw the man in with her other prisoners. Jameson had an infatuation with that thing whether it garnered them info or not.
“What have I said about using their names? They’re not numbers. They’re people. Just like we were.”
The 413 on her hip strings and Lee curbs the urge to flinch, fighting back the desire to rub it as if that could make it go away.
“Sorry, Boss. It won’t happen again.”
“It’s okay, Dom.” Handing the clipboard back, Lee sighs. "Let me handle the Captain and then I'll decide.”
She knows what it’s like to be hungry. She knows what it’s like to be thirsty. Wrike will say and do anything if he is hungry enough. She’s learned a thing or two from her queen - this might be a honey and not vinegar incident.
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