❛ how you come out of this depends entirely on you. so i strongly suggest you cooperate, for your own sake. ❜
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 || Accepting.
The bindings upon wrists have rubbed flesh raw, skin peeling to expose irritated flesh. It is painful to sit where she remains, arms aching from the sameness of its locked position—hands resting behind her. This is not new to feel the cool of the aether cuffs. It is disgusting to be here again. She cannot wield her gifts. She is useless, efforts futile when one arm is twisted—all unnatural, alien in how it bends, wrist fractured.
“You think… I care?” Her laughter is soft at first as one leg stretches out—she cannot move her other, bone peeking through a knee. Salt of tears—she can taste it on her own lips as she forces her spine against the wall—head striking stone, teeth all bloody, as she offers the woman a smile. It is false.
“You think I will cooperate?” Jote snarls out long at last, voice shuddering. Bits of flesh between porcelain teeth. Her laughter is shrill and all too high. “I mauled your little soldier.”
Forget not the body of a man, still shrieking and howling by their feet; chunk of a cheek and half a lip bitten and spat from her mouth. Men are foolish and proud creatures. He cannot kiss and threaten her without bloody consequences.
“I will fight. I will not give you anything. If you must make me cooperate—be warned: I am not afraid to die. If you are too weak to act upon your own threats, I will bash my head against this wall to bleed. Now, what shall you do?”
She splutters, tongue tasting the flesh—she cannot dislodge it between teeth, her gaze hollow and dull as she smiles and smiles.
“Go on. Try your worst. I have plenty left to give. You have not made me scream yet.”
