" you know what they say, an eye for an eye. " for bby cosima ;*
Horror Sentence Meme || Accepting || @enregards
Cosima feels frozen in place, she has been waiting—waiting for the torture to end. For Viago to come and save her, or even for her body to finally give out and release her that way. At this point, blood staining her blonde hair a matted rust, new scars pulling skin too taut every time she turns her torso, the straps holding her wrists tight grinding the bones together. All of it, just if it could stop for a moment but the grandmaster has plans for her. Needs to break down what Viago has spent months building in her again and again this dance feels endless.
House Arainai takes her, House Arainai breaks her, House De Riva finds her, House De Riva carefully builds her back up, House Arainai takes her.
Cosima’s mind has almost grown numb to it, almost. She doesn’t know if this is what the grandmaster wants, which is the worst part because she is loathe to give the man any inch he might turn into a mile. She is big for an elf, big for a girl of her age standing taller than all her age mate fledglings in either house but before him she feels So Very Small.
She sits in the corner of the eighth Talon’s office, he doesn’t even wrinkle his nose at the smell of her among his meticulously decorated space. She exists in a pool of her own filth, blood and worse besides since the only bath she has had in weeks were practically drownings. Sweat clings to her brow and she isn’t sure if it’s a winter draft or fever that has her shivering. It isn’t fear, that at least House Arainai has taught her, she doesn’t have to fear the unknown of whether they will harm her. They will always harm her.
He says something to her, as he works on his papers but his voice sounds thready in her ears. She nods at appropriate pauses even as it sends her skull aching because to not respond would invite something worse. He must be reciting some lesson, he likes to give her lessons in his study. He says it is to show her that she too could rise as such, she thinks it is because he is too good to sully his shoes in the dungeons.
She has almost drifted off, into the corner of her mind where she can pretend this is a bad dream. That she will wake up and this will have been a hallucination from another of Viago’s poison lessons. She is nearly there, hunkered deep in the quiet of her own mind when she spots it.
There is something in the room with them. Cosima stirs, just enough to refocus her eyes upon the large arching ceiling, where something—someone clings to the corners. She blinks once, slowly and the masked figure raises a single finger to their mask.
She lets her eyes drift away, huddles back into herself as they descend in one elegant swoop and a knife finds it’s home in the man’s skull. Their free hand holds over his mouth, muffling the death cries of the man before he slumps in the assassin’s arms. Warmth fills Cosima’s chest for the first time in days as she watches blood drip down onto his books. A near hysterical laugh finds itself bursting from her throat, rough from disuse but still high and tittering with the telltale squeak of youth.
The masked assassin meets her laugh with a chuckle as they tug their dagger from the Talon’s left eye socket. The sound is rich and warm but it is not Viago, nor does it sound like any of the De Riva’s she knows. They are not here for her, she simply benefits from a collateral contract—unless she is to be killed as a witness but even then at least all of this is over—
But the assassin pulls down his mask, tanned skin and a tattoo she knows has been banned in House Arainai since her the fifth blight. She laughs again, less hysterical and almost genuine. Perhaps she will be spared, so she may be the one to tell this wretched house who is sending a message. The most infamous scion of House Arainai grins,
“You know what they say, an eye for an eye.”
