A session written in the Discord Chat.
All Dark parts written by myself
All Anti parts written by @ask-psychoanti
ASD: Dark's reality was pulsed, ripped, rearranged, and with an angered roar he was forced down into the depths of a place he had yet to tread, painfully tumbling down against the ground, before leaning up in his position with the most fury filled expression one could possibly possess. "I will not..... accept this."
APA: "S̡u͠re͞ ̵yo͠u͠ wo̵n't͠, ͢hon.͟" Anti grinned, leaning against the doorway in a mockingly "sexy" pose, knowing how much it annoyed Dark. "T҉h̨is'll̀ ͡b͘e a̸ ̛new ęxper͘i̶en̷ce ͢f͞o̧r͜ ̢ỳou̡,҉ D҉arky͜. A̵ ̛reve̶r͝sal of͏ h͡òw t҉his͜ usuáll̀y͢ ͞g̢oe̶s ̴down.͘ I̧ must̶ s̀ay,̷ ͟I'm̀ qu͜i͝t̸e ̶ex͞cįt͢e̸d͜.͏" He took a few steps towards the prone form of Dark, stopping a few feet away before snapping his fingers, causing Dark to fly forcefully backwards into the wall. "It͠'s ́m҉y t͜urn n҉o͏w͜, ͠you̡ ́s̛o̧ggy no͜odl̡e̡." With another snap of Anti's fingers, Dark slid up the wall as if it were coated in butter, his hands lifting abruptly over his head only to be locked in a set of manacles chained to the wall.
With Dark chained so that all his weight was on his wrists, Anti began to walk his fingers over a multitude of knives lying on a cloth-covered table to his right. "Hmm.̛.̴.͠" he said. "Wh̵a̶t ̡to̸ d͝o̕,̵ ҉w͝ḩat̴ ̷to͟ ͘d͜o҉.̕ ̨Th͜eŕe are̡ ͜so͟ ̷ma͝n͜y͏ optio͠ns̨!" His voice rose in a sharp chuckle, fragments giggling shrilly with excitement.
ASD: Dark’s eyes burned like molten rocks, the embers hidden within his irises as his mind protested angrily for him to fight back. But he knew the limitations here, he knew, in vain, that his fighting would be useless in a place where his actions were no longer his own. He remained in his knelt position, his tux horribly rumbled, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as the messy slopes of his hair fell over his eyes. There was little he could say, he was not the witty type when in situations he was rarely introduced to. So, all he could do was let out the sound of the impact, air being forcefully pushed from his lungs as he was flung.
The crack in his spine from his collision against the wall let him give out a low groan, and he weakly slid up the wall until his wrists were introduced to the new, unique pain of dangling from the wall by his own weight. Head hung low, he finally let his eyes lift upwards, and provided a smile that was lined with an inner rage. “Charming place you have here. But poorly kept, I must admit.”
APA: Anti barked out a laugh, his fingers wrapping gently around the handle of a knife with a long, slender blade. Excited energy was filling him, and he willed his hands to stop shaking with glee. He was going to need them steady for what he was about to do. "Oh, ̧Į'm g͜o͝ǹna e͜nj͢oy̴ t̨hi̢s.͟"
Striding a few steps forward to stand in front of Dark, he raised the knife to a position just below the taller man's chin. "Will͘ ͡y͟ou̸ ͝be̷ ̨a ̢good͢ b̡oy͢ ̴f̸ǫr͠ m̧e͜, D̷arky?̸"
ASD: He felt his arms straining, flexing, tugging and desperately attempting to free himself from whatever binds were around his wrists. Perhaps there were none, and Anti had just willed it to occur. Was this what it felt like? To be completely vulnerable? He could feel his heart beginning to thunder more painfully into his chest, his palms were beginning to slicken with a sweat he didn't realize could occur. Was he truly nervous?
The tugging came to a still as Anti approached his head, and he leaned his head back until his cranium was pressed against the wall, trying to avoid the edge of the knife that came close to his skin. His lip tilted upwards, he sneered in order to mask the sudden tenseness that boiled in his stomach. "That would be dependent on my reward..."
APA: Anti let out a dark chuckle, full of malice and glee. Finally, he had the opportunity to take his revenge. He wasn't letting it go that easy, no way. He was gonna savor this moment for as long as he could. Though his form spasmed and glitched with barely suppressed outbursts from his fragments, the tip of the knife stayed perfectly steady, a few millimeters from Dark's skin.
"We̡ll̢," he said, drawing out the syllable in an answering sneer, "͠I҉f y̡òu'͝r̶e ̢g̴o̴o͟d.̴.. ͟I'͘ll̨ m̴ak̀e̴ t͢h́e ̸desi͡g͢n͜ p̸r͘e͡t͡ţy.͘"
ASD: The hiss barely separated from Dark, flowing softly past his lips, airing out the slightest signal of his nervousness. His skin was prickling, the hairs along his arm climbing towards the air, the tiniest twitches of his face marring the only detail that his body desperately wanted to escape the knife that was dangling so close to his face. He hated this, he despised everything about it, but somehow... the twisting in his gut also detailed a demonic sense of excitement. He had no way to describe it, no proper words to properly explain the sensation, but it was there, tickling along his belly as he dangled uselessly.
"I'm not one to admire pretty things." he responded in the natural deep drawl of his sentence, and again clouded his tenseness with a smirk, although his eyes couldn't help but watch the dangerous movement of his hands.(edited)
APA: "A͜lr̛i͞gh͘t̸,͝ on͝ ́y̸o͘ur o͠w͢n h̀ead,҉ o̕r̷ rathe̵r,̨ b̧a̶c͜k, b́e͝ it̸.͠" In a single fluid motion, Anti stepped back, set the knife on the table, and raised his hands in a single clap which quickly flipped Dark around so that his face was pressed into the rough stone brick of the wall. Anti swept the knife back up and sliced upward through Dark's suit jacket and underlying shirt, slicing straight through it like a hot knife through butter without marring the skin underneath. That would come later.
ASD: Dark prepared to open his mouth, just having begun drawing in a breath of air to begin to speech, before it was again pushed out of his lungs when he was flipped around, his arms twisting with the same movement, and his cheek smacked against the cold, unforgiving roughness of the basement wall. He gave a muffled huff outwards as he became extremely uncomfortable. He couldn't see much now, he was forced to simply stare at the distant wall covered in concrete and other substances, and listened to Anti's shuffling.
There was a ripping sound, and he felt currents of air suddenly wafting against his lower back, climbing upwards until the cool of the room was dancing against the entirety of the skin over his spine. He felt himself shudder as instantly everything in him went on alert. His flight response was sending alarms into his head.
not in the spine... not in the spine... his own mind screamed desperately, but his mouth remained unmoving, grimacing as his heart began to pound ever more violently.
APA: Anti watched the muscles of Dark's back ripple with... was it fear? At the sight, a memory from a time when Dark had been his mentor suddenly surfaced, bringing with it a most... intriguing... idea.
Fleeting laughter. Long, thin fingers brushing over the skin of a toned stomach. High pitched giggles contrasting with a low, reluctant chuckle as Dark involuntarily showed off his wonderful laugh. Anti had caught Dark on one of his good days, and Dark was tolerating the tickling. The form of the older man suddenly flipped under Anti, exposing his back in an attempt to protect his sensitive stomach. A mistake, as it turned out, for Anti had kept on tickling. His fingers had dipped into the hollow of Dark's spine, causing him to spasm and flail in attempts to get away. It hadn't worked, of course, as Anti had the clear advantage, so Dark resorted to... less physical means.
The yelling. Oh, God, how he had yelled at Anti afterwards. He had tried to explain himself; he had tried to get up as quickly as possible once he noticed the discomfort; why couldn't Dark understand? And why wouldn't he stop yelling? A hand had latched itself roughly around Anti's wrist and tugged, sending him flying through the void as Dark took him to the persuasion room. It had been the first of many terrible experiences in that room.
A slow grin spread across Anti's face like butter, and the voices began a chorus of low, eerie chuckles. "O̕f ̴co͘u̡rs͏e̡.̛.͏. yo͠ur ̢s͠p̡in͘e̴.̴"
ASD: "Well come on then, boy. Get it over with. Stab into my central nerves. Peel into my skin. Enough with this observing."
Even in the face of his doom he spoke with a command, putrid hatred gaining heat to his words. Everything in him was tensing and relaxing over and over as shivers ran down his body, beginning at the base of his skull and flying violently throughout his limbs. He had no idea what Anti was thinking, but the long trail of silence had created a much more intense moment than he had wanted.
"Come on."
APA: "M͏mm,́ ͠no͡. ̡I̵ ͟don'͜t̴ ́t͞hįńk̨ Į ẁìl҉l.͏ N̢o͘t̡ ̨j͘ús̕ţ ̡y͟et,̨ anyw̶ay̧." The gall of this man. To give him orders? Here? Anti was enraged, to say the least. But he would hold off. If he were to be patient at any point in his life, now was the time. He refused to ruin this by being too hasty. So instead of going straight for the spine, he gently pressed the tip of the knife into the skin of Dark's back, just to the right of his spine. He paused, letting the knife drag a drop of near-black blood from beneath the skin. "H͞m̖͠.͕.̧..̺͞"
ASD: He exhaled, the motion more ragged than he had initially wanted to express. The action caused the entirety of his body to shake, only slightly, and he felt cold suddenly. Frigidly cold, like ice was running through the fluid of his black blood. As if he was dunked in a tank of ocean water, and there was little he could do to control his shivering. The only thing to control it was the sudden edge of the knife pressing against his flesh, causing him to go still, utterly still, and for a drag of air to fill his lungs and fail to push out. He held it in, freezing in his stance, dangling against the wall.
The tiniest grunt pushed from him as he felt the sting of his skin being broken, his back arching only slightly as a sliver of his blood trickled down his back, tickling against the surface of his skin and causing him to wiggle only slightly in discomfort.
APA: Making up his mind, Anti began to silently trace a shape on Dark's back with the blade, his tongue poking between his teeth and his fragments offering hushed input. The form of a rose began to take shape between the shoulder blades of the chained man.
ASD: The grunts turned into pants as his barrier of control was jerked away with each hearty swipe of the knife. The deeper it wedged into his skin, the louder the sounds of his pain became. Groans pushed past his lips, his eyes squeezed shut, and the beads of his sweat began to trickle down his forehead. Lines of persperation ran down his back, heat clambering against his skin as the pain became more intense the longer it occurred.
The sound flowed from him as his head pressed roughly against the concrete wall, feeling every jagged line, every painful cut, he could feel the oozing of his own blood dribbling along his back.
APA: Something bubbled in the pit of Anti's stomach at the sound of Dark's groaning, but he ignored it in favor of continuing to trace smooth lines into the figment's back. Finishing with the head of the rose, Anti paused, stepping back a moment to admire his handiwork. "Mm̀. ͜Not ̕bad. Bu̢t͘,͘ of ̧course̵, ͜I'm n̢ot͢ ͠ḑone̕ yet̡.͜"
He reached over to a bucket on a table to his left, pulling a dripping sponge from it. Anti squeezed it, causing clear liquid to drip back into the bucket. "S͟p͜e͏cif̸ic̡a̸ll̡y͢ ͟f̶òr m̨y͠ ̵favo҉riţe sal̡t͢y ͠fi̸g̵men͢t͏."
ASD: He finally sucked in a large drag of air, but it came out as more of a pained, bubbling gasp as he was finally relieved from the continuous cutting and pain that had wracked through his whole body. His shoulders heaved, his body was quivering against his control, and his eyes remained closed as he found no energy to open them again. He could only hear the sloshing of water from within something, a bucket or box perhaps, that clicked behind him.
"You're going to give me a bath..."
His voice was breathless and sounded exhausted.
"How surprisingly caring of you, Anti. I'm disappointed."
APA: He let out a low chuckle, fragments splitting off to roll around with laughter before rejoining with the original. "O̡h͡,͞ D͡a͝r̡ky ̀d͜ea͏r.͢ Yo͘u ̴h͠ave͏ ͞n͡o͞ ͘i͝dea.̷"
Anti brought the salt-soaked sponge to rest directly in the middle of the rose, hot water saltier than dark's nonexistent soul the ocean dripping down Dark's back.
ASD: He tried to turn his head to look back at him, he tried to do anything to catch a hint at what exactly was going on in the region he could not see, but alas he was forced to simply listen. He listened to the echoing sounds of Anti's fragments, the shards of his reality giggling in anticipation, and he new something truly evil was going to occur. He tensed himself, the anticipation almost unbearable.
No anticipation could prepare him.
The bellowing cry that burst from him echoed throughout the room, shattering his own reality, as the salt began to eat away at his flesh, burning his skin, stinging so horribly that he couldn't move if he wanted to. His only sensation was the pain in his back and the burning of his throat from the level of his cries.
APA: "Oh̷, ̛m̛y̵ dea͝r̸," Anti said, the sensation in the pit of his stomach intensifying. "Ther͠e's̡ p̡lenţy̸ ̛m̡o̶r͢é w̡here ͝that ͘ca̛mè ͞f͡rom."
He finished cleaning most of the blood off Dark's back, stepping back once more to gaze upon the art he was creating. "Y̕o̧u m̵a̛k̨e ̷s͠u̴c͞h a̕ goo̷d̕ ͞can̕vas͜, m̛y̧ lov͡e͏.̧ We'll ̀ha͏ve̶ ͟to̷ do͝ ͏this͢ ͟more ơf̨t̕e̡ń.͠"
ASD: He was gasping for air, panting, shaking, sweat was drenching the black tresses of his hair so it fell against his scalp like an extra weight. His head was pressed against the wall as if it could no longer support itself, bottom lip quivering and legs twitching. It hurt, it hurt to an extreme he didn't anticipate. How the hell did something as innocent as salt cause such screaming?
"I am.... not... your love."
He mustered himself in order to respond to the most important points, and the sweat glazed palms of his hands were covered by the clenching of his fingers.
"And believe me, you... would make a more admirable canvas. You'll be one for me... when I get out of here..."
APA: Shaking back a thrill of fear, Anti let a high, amused laugh pass his lips. "I͡'̶m͝ s҉u̡re I ̴w҉o͏u̕ld͜. My̕ s̸k͜i̷n̶ is͠ ̧m̧uc͜h ̀sm̴oo͝t̨he̷r̢ ̨th҉a̵n y̕ou͏r̵s.̛"
With no warning he continued carefully carving sweeping curves into Dark's back, trailing the blade in a serpentine pattern down his spine, crossing over it a few times in the path of the movement. He repeated the curve, altered slightly, so that the two met in a point at the base of Dark's spine.
ASD: "Fuck!"
the sound shouted against the wall, muffled by his own arms as he was taken by surprise of the knife yet again, causing his body to jerk with only slid the point of the blade deeper into his back. The quivering began again as his teeth grit together, jaws so tightly pressed against each other he could feel the muscles bulging beyond what should be allowed. Every time the dagger sliced across his spine, an electrocution of the addition of nerve's being cut sent another yell from him, banging his skull against the wall, sobbing in breaths of air.
But he was a proud man. He wouldn't beg for its end, no matter how much it cried in his mind. He would take the pain like royalty, and sweat and pant through the designs.
APA: "Oh w̵e҉ ̴c̛a̛n ҉d̷o̢ ̀t̀ha̷t̢ ̸to͢o̸,͢ if ͠y̕o̧u w̡an̡t̴," Anti said with a laugh, beginning work on the leaves. With a few quick strokes he had two of them traced out, alternating sides as he moved down the stem. "I ͡so hơpe̢ y̕oú're͝ eǹjoy̸įn͜g t̸hi͏s as much͝ ͞a͝s ̶I a͡m, ̴Dark̸y ͟d̷ear̀."
ASD: "You shut your god damn-"
He failed to finish his sentence as another burst of knife strokes sent his nerves on a wildfire. However, that was not the only thing that caused his abrupt end. He twisted his head away, pressing the tip of his nose against the concrete in order to hide the flurry of bright crimson that had flooded his cheeks. He was not one to blush, but the rush of emotions from the pain and fear that was in his body allowed for such things to be expressed far easier. Choking on his own cries, he sputtered the sounds of his pain and discontent. When would the pain end? How long until the space on his back was used up and he was allowed to think about anything else but the blade?
APA: Anti giggled, one of his fragments breaking off and moving to hover over a small object lying on the table with the bucket. The movement caught Anti's eye and he looked up, grinning once he realized what the object was. "Oooh, y̕o͏u̡'͢ŗe̴ ͝gonna ͝l̷óv̵e ̡th̡is̨,̛ ͝D͘ark͜ybo̕i.̴" He slowly finished the leaves, then set the knife down and squeezed the sponge over Dark's back once more.
Stepping away from his lovely little canvas, Anti reached for the object on the table and walked to a fireplace on the other side of the room. Snapping his fingers, he caused a flame to burst into existence, crackling merrily as if it had been burning for hours. He crouched down and set the tip of the long metal pole into the base of the flame next to the coals, then stood, brushing off his hands.
ASD: He was able to breathe again, and he exhaled in a gentle motion of relief as finally the cutting was brought to an end. He hadn't been sure how much longer he would have lasted, he was certain that the edges of his conscious were beginning to fade the longer that he was forced to endure such pain. He wheezed out a course of air, arms shaking, as his head tilted towards the voice that drifted across the room, detailing that Anti had gained some distance from where he hung. Interesting. Another addition?
"My sessions hardly last this long, boy. You're going into overkill. You've passed your message well enough, no need to add more salt to my wound."(edited)
APA: Anti laughed, forcing air out of his lungs as he walked back over to Dark. He picked up the knife once more, dunking it in the now-bloody salt water. "O͝h̀, ͏n̴ò.̧ ́Th͟ís is̸ p̸àybac͡k̨ f̨o̸r ye̷ar͠s ͠of tor̸tu͜re in y̧ou̧r ̴bȩlo̷vèd͡ ̛per͞s̨u͝asio̢n ̀room͡. I̷'́m̶ ̢gon͢na͝ d͡r̡a̡w͜ th̵is̀ ơu̵t͘ as l̨on͘g as ̀I ẃant̴ tò.̶" Bringing the knife out of the salt water he quickly began slashing thorns into Dark's back, running them down the length of the stem.
ASD: "Those years of torture were ones you rightfully deserved for being so god damn--"
He had meant to finish his sentence, and he even tried to after the slice of the metal dug into his back. However, the sound morphed instead to a gurgling howl, feeling as if the blood that was running down his back was somehow flooding his throat, bulging and ceasing his intakes of air, suffocating him with the pain as each individual stab sent new blinding lights of agony in the backs of his eyes. His head fell back, sweat coated hair dangling towards the ground, as the entirety of his back became almost ebony from the amount of blood coated across it.
the words choked from him weakly.
APA: Anti lifted the knife, dropping it in a tub of bleach on a shelf by the wall. He wouldn't need it anymore. He stepped back over to the fireplace and picked up the poker, which wouldn't cool now that it had been heated up. Pausing as he once more stood wordlessly behind Dark, he set the poker on the table and rinsed a clean cloth under cold water, beginning to dab the blood from Dark's back. Finishing that, he murmured a single low word and picked up the poker.
".̪͕.͚͡.́͜Ń̷o̗͓.҉"
ASD: A whimper, a genuine, actualy whimper, came from the back of Dark's mouth, spilling across his tongue and sounding animalistic in its desperation. He didn't know what to do, he couldn't move himself away, but his body desperately screamed for escape. He was becoming clostrophobic. He was screaming for air. He needed to move. He needed space. He was panicking. He was falling into darkness. Shadows surrounding him. He couldn't think. All he could hear was the gentle sizzling of something coming closer, and the putrid stench of something burning, rusting, like frying metal. It was inhumane, it was too much to bear. He had already be branded, this was beyond anything he wanted.
"Anti. Please."
APA: He almost felt bad. He almost stopped, seeing the desperation on Dark's face. He almost put the poker down.
But one of his fragments dragged a memory back up from the vault of his mind. He shuddered at the thought of it, and it strengthened his resolve. It wasn't a memory of torture. It wasn't even a memory of a blender. It should have been a nice memory, one that gave him more mercy. But it wasn't. It stiffened his spine and hardened his heart against the pleas of the man in front of him.
He dug the poker in. Using one of the triangular faces of its point, he began to brand the thorns into Dark's body, with the carved outlines as a guide. He felt no remorse. He felt no shame. But he also felt no pleasure. That single memory had drained that, leaving in its wake a strong sense of resolve.
ASD: The words that spilled from him meant nothing. They fell on the deaf, sardonic ears of his captor, and only the slightest pause was the relief he had desperately craved.
At first, there was only pressure. For a moment or two, all he could feel was the weight of the iron suddenly poking into his back. Then, the pain came. It warped him like a snake, his back arching forward so profoundly it almost snapped in half. It burned like a thousand claws were stabbing into his flesh. It stung like a wildfire was flaming aggressively into his flesh, melting his skin, disrupting his muscle. His scream was mind numbing, it wasn't even his own. The echoes of his shattered mind yowled and bellowed, sobbing out his pleas in a wordless moan. He felt the light in his eyes fade before returning again, losing his sense of time and existence. He was nothnig but the embodiment of horror. He was nothing but terror and sensation. And it continued. It continued forever.
APA: It took awhile, for he let the flesh beneath the poker sizzle for a good amount of time, but he finally finished the thorns. He tossed the poker aside, a loud clang emanating from it as it hit the floor, and picked up a new weapon, a short knife with a blade shaped like a twisted triangular prism.
"N͟ow̧.͢ Now ͘ìs͜ the̛ t͟i͟me ̡I ̧re͏a͏l͝l̴y ͟mess̶ u͘p͏ y͡ou͟r̵ sp͝in̷e̢.́ ̸Arè you ̨re͟a͏dy͏?"
ASD: He sucked in air, it hurt to even breathe. Each movement of his back stretched his skin and caused for it to sting, to burn, to peel away more layers than already destroyed. He winced, he groaned, he was stuck in his own pitiful loop of pain and suffering as his eyes grew blurry.
"Anti... P-please. Is it an apology? Is that... w-what you want? I can offer you an apology. I'll give you whatever you need. Just stop. Please."
He never thought in his existence he would be brought to this level. Never once did he anticipate that his morality, his ego, his pride, would be shattered into hundreds of pieces. Never once did he believe he would see his own mind shattered bellow him, stepped upon by someone he used to..... he used.....
"It hurts... no more..."
APA: Anti sighed, breath rushing out of him and being replaced by a flood of pity, along with something else he couldn't name. He slowly lowered the knife back to its spot on the tablecloth, the calm determination in his eyes replaced with exhaustion. "F͏i̷ne͘͞.̷͜"
He stepped close to Dark, bringing his lips close to the other man's ear. "I͝ ͘h̸o͢p͟e y̡ou ͝r̢͟em͢ęm͘b͜e̡r̀ ͝͡t͜͡h́͜ís ̴pa̷͟i͞ń̴ ̢͘f̴͢o̷r̀҉ ̛t҉̧h͟͏e͠ ͟r҉es̨t҉ ͏of ́yo͢ur͝ ę̨x̀͝i͢s͝t͞e͟nc͝é," he whispered, lips brushing against Dark's earlobe. "I͏t's óńl̢y a͞ fra̵ct͢io͟n o̶f w҉ha͜t I̡ fee̴l e͞v͘e̷ry ́tim͠e ̀I̶ ̸rem̛e̡m͏be͜r-" Anti stopped abruptly, nostrils flaring.
ASD: Something in him felt cold, mercifully cold, and it filled him with such the pleasure of relief that he almost moaned if he still wasn't a little proud. The pain was stopping, for now, and he drooped as he suddenly felt drained of the energy he had stored for the second attack. He dangled, the deadness in his arms causing his shoulder sockets to sting, but he didn't pay attention to them. The sting was nothing in comparison. The sting was almost enjoyable. His head twitched to the side, only slightly, away from the breath that was coating against his ears as Anti murmured there. He shuddered again, but somehow for a different reason, more heated than he had wanted.
With head still tucked down, body left to waste, he found his voice. It was rough, hoarse, his throat dry and scratched from his screaming.
"Good. Then even after all of this.... after all of this... pain... I still have a hand over you... Because while... m-my physical pain will fade... Your mental t-torment... will last forever."
APA: Anti mentally reeled back, struck by Dark's words. Physically, however, he stayed exactly where he was, hovering over Dark's ear and feeling the sickly heat radiating from his back. Dropping his voice to an even softer tone, Anti continued.
"I͞'m̀ n̡ot͘ so̷ ͞su̢r҉e̶ ͟y͝ǫú ͠don͞'͡t ̶f̛ee̵l it t̵oo͢."
Stepping around to the side and roughly grabbing Dark's chin, Anti twisted the older figment's face toward himself slightly. "Loo̴k ͝a͠t̸ ̛m̸e͘," he said. When Dark's eyes didn't move, he raised his voice.
"L̗͘O̙O̵K̡̼ ͖AT͠ ̧ME̸̗.̬"
ASD: He practically seethed, but he held his tongue. He had said his peice, and going in deeper would be a move he didn't want to make. Instead, he only pressed his teeth together as he fumed in silence. The aches, the stings, they were beginning to fade to a tolerable level where he was allowed to think again. He was allowed to think enough to the point where he noticed the rough grab of Anti's fingers to his chin, yanking his head to the side, snapping his neck slightly and causing him to wince. There was only so far his head could turn while he was stuck on his stomach, and so he remained in a grimace as he finally allowed the bulb of his eyes to flicker up towards his tormenter's face. He was silent, but impatient, there was nothing more that he wanted than some peace and for the aches in his spine to settle, he wanted freedom, he wanted out of this place..
But more than that, he wanted freedom from his own festering thoughts.
APA: Anti stood there for a moment, staring into the dull pain in his former mentor's eyes. He leaned in closer, intending to whisper more sharp quips at Dark, but that same memory floated up once more and took control.
Closing the gap between them, Anti gently pressed his soft, slightly dry lips to Dark's, offering a stark contrast from the brutal pain of the branding. The bubbling that had begun in his stomach at Dark's screams of pain spread all throughout his chest, reaching to every extremity of his body. His fingers trembled slightly, the feeling of Dark's salt-soaked lips on his own making his knees weak and his heart beat with a fanatic rhythm. He loved every second of it.
But he also knew the pain it would bring to Dark. That knowledge on his side, Anti reached up with his other hand to cup Dark's face, deepening the kiss as he did so.
ASD: Was this to be a scolding? Was he actually going to be yelled at by his own pupil, taunted by a mere child, a mere boy. Someone lesser, someone.... His thoughts turned into nothing but a swirly empty space. He saw the look in Anti's eyes, the sudden desperation, the sudden motive that caused for every previous thought to simply fade. He wouldn't.. He wasn't going to... It was too late. Whatever words of protest had bloomed in his mind were useless, as his mouth, words, everything, was muffled by the ecstasy of their kiss.
Images, everything he had desperately clung on to, it hit him like a train, slamming into his mind, one after the other. Each shared emotion, each desperate cling to save what was lost, it came crashing upon him as he shared the tangling of his lips with Anti. He was breathing heavily, he realized he had grown tense and couldn't help but relax. His arms, useless, wanted desperately to take control of the situation, to do what he desperately wanted, to show what was stuck inside him, what he could never say through words. What he wasn't able to say. What he wasn't allowed to say. Instead, simple and subtle moans echoed against his tongue.
APA: Feeling the moaning vibrations coming from Dark, the bubbling exploded with an intensity Anti never expected. He so wished for this to continue, but he knew it would only give Dark what he apparently wanted. No, the groans sending shockwaves through Anti's tongue would say otherwise. It would only give Dark what he needed. So with a heavy heart, Anti abruptly broke off the kiss and walked toward the ladder that led out of his basement. He snapped his fingers, releasing the manacles. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion, though his words were flat.
"You͜ ҉a̧r͏e͝ ͏f̴r͘ee͢ ͡to ̕go̷.́ I̛ ͞re͢f̀us̛e, ͘h̡o҉wever҉, ̵t͘o heal̶ you. ̢C̡ra̢nk͠ ͜w̶a̴n̨t̶e͢d͢ yoų ̵ha̴rm͠ed̸ ̕ẃhèn̕ ̡y͡o̡ư en͠tęred ͘hi͟s c̷a̸re.̀"
ASD: The air that suddenly filled his mouth detailed that Anti had pulled away, and it left an emptiness in his chest that he hadn't anticipated. It hurt, it bellowed, his lack of a heart was rattling in the chasm of his chest. He wanted to spit into the air if only to have more time with him, but he simply felt lost. His arms were released, he slid down back to the ground, and he winced as yet again the open spaces in his back were touched by the movement of the air. He didn't say a word, but he turned on his heel, staring the figment down, his mouth moving but words failing to come out. He was free to go, but he was far from free. He knew Anti knew this, perhaps that why it had been done.*
*With a frown, an understanding frown that was more upset than confused, he descended his head, and with slow and tender steps, moved to the door. Each step was painful, for his body and his mind, and without looking back, he pushed into the door and left the room.
