tw: manipulation, brainwashing, conditioning(?), hypnotism, ask to tag
gently, gently, the knives sing. one click, then two; the light continues to glitter off of them, a pattern dancing just on the edges of your vision, encouraging you to look further, deeper. to keep watching, and let the warm, the quiet close around you.
then the lights stop dancing.
and then the knife clicks shut, away, and dazedly, you try to follow it with your eyes. the quiet isn’t so warm anymore. the static pricks at your skin.
you feel empty.
a soft whine builds in your throat as you go to shift, and though the strings don’t move, something else does. the figure in front of you steps forward, and you tilt your head back to try and meet His eyes, search for any hints of the stars in them. all you find is icy amusement.
“down, pup,” He murmurs, and you still. He’s waiting for something.
the static thickens against your skin, an oppressive weight, and He tilts His head.
“i said down.”
a dull pain throbs in your knees as you hastily hit the floor, ice crawling up your spine. His voice, however, has quieted again.
“i will not repeat myself, pup. you will obey on the first command.” His voice dips, and another shiver runs up your back as He pulls the knife back out. “it would be a shame if you never saw this, or its stars again, wouldn’t it? you’d get the brand, or the muzzle; this…” He flips it open, and you lean forward in anticipation as the light glitters off of the two blades. “this is a reward for the obedient.”
of course it was, the static murmurs in your ears. such beauty, such peace; the disobedient didn’t deserve something so beautiful.
perhaps He sees it in your eyes; perhaps He sees the way you shape a plea with your mouth, but with no air.
the knife flicks open, and for a moment, a star winks. then the cool metal rests under your chin.
“but you’ve been obedient, haven’t you? you’ve been so quiet.” He smiles, humorlessly. “can you still be good without it?”
you nod before you can even think about it. you open your mouth, and the collar around your neck tightens. the words thicken and die in your throat as you choke.
dispassionately, He tells you “i didn’t allow you to speak, yet, pet.” a moment passes, where you curl into yourself, disappointment sinking through your gut, before He continues. “but if i did let you open your mouth; you’d beg, wouldn’t you, pup? all you want is this knife, and the quiet. all you want is to please me, and you’d do that however you can, hm?”
each question sinks into your bones, buzzing with want, and you nod again, dazed.
“go ahead, then.” you blink, and He arches an eyebrow.
prove you’re worthy, the static whispers.
you hesitate, thinking, and then sink further onto your hands and knees, bowing your head for Him. hoarse as your voice may be from disuse, it still works as you whisper “however You want me to prove it, i will. i’m not worthy of You, of the quiet, but… please. please let me have the chance to prove it, to bleed for it, to please You. allow me to worship You.”
the collar tightens, and He murmurs “that’s enough.”
He doesn’t sound displeased, and warmth sinks into your muscles as cool metal trails across the back of your neck.
“you’d like to bleed for me, wouldn’t you? you’d gladly bear any weight for a whisper of the quiet.”
the knife rests just on top of the branded mark at the base of your neck. delicately, it traces the outline; he digs it in enough for you to feel the sharp sting as blood trickles down around the shaped letters.
“you’d do anything, because the alternative is disappointing me.” frost creeps across the floor, and you freeze. no, please, you want to say, as you shake your head, fervently. never, i’d never let you down.
“but you wouldn’t let that happen, pup. you’d tear yourself apart before that happens.” His words warm once further, and the static lightens, almost pleasantly numb now.
“and for that, you should be rewarded, hm? you’ve proven yourself today.”
relief spreads, warm and heady, through you. you can’t stop the dazed smile that flickers at your lips as the knife flips once.
over His wrist, around His arm, the dual blades flicker in the light, in a familiar corkscrewing pattern, the steel ringing in hypnotic unison.
“look, and listen, pup,” He murmurs. “let the quiet welcome you back. what do you say?”
you blink, attempting to shape words around the thick haze drifting through your thoughts.
“thank You… thank You, sir, for Your kindness.”
you don’t have to see Him to hear the smile in His words.
(( :) thank you kindly, anon.)) tw: uhhh mentions of hypnosis/brainwashing?
all the warning that you get that something is about to change is the barest flicker in the buzzing floating about you. the barest falter in the static has you stirring, and although you stir in preparation, you do not attempt to fight it off as it resurges.
it fades a moment later, anyways, leaving only an uneasy anger to stir in your bones.
His static does not fade unless there is someone disturbing Him. and if there is someone preventing you from pleasing Him...
a low growl rumbles to life, as you pick yourself up. there are other puppets scattered about the edges of the room; one slumped against the back of the concrete chair, another fae standing to attention, back ramrod straight and eyes burning with the same anger in your gut.
bend to one knee, bow your head. wait as He steps closer, and a hand rests in your hair, nails scratching against your scalp; contentment eases the fury in your veins, clears your head.
then His grip tightens, pulling your head back to meet His eyes. the brand on the back of your neck burns as the movement pulls at the fresh scars.
you know better than to speak. you wait, something sour building in the back of your mouth as you see the displeasure in His eyes.
“it’s been a while since you’ve hunted, pet, hasn’t it?” despite the ice in His eyes, His words are soft.
you relax.
His displeasure is not aimed to you.
“you have a new assignment. do you remember the pup that escaped us?”
something in His words feels like a test, you note, distantly. and indeed, the face rings true; there’s a familiar name to it, you would’ve sworn, once upon a time, a name that reminded you of home, and family, and love that sat warmly in your heart.
you don’t remember it, though. only a face streaked with blood and terror and a cap torn to shreds.
you nod.
whatever He was looking for, He appears to have found. a satisfied smile curls the edges of His lips, and you, in turn, feel a satisfied warmth uncurl in your muscles.
then it fades, as abrupt as His next words.
“find him. bring him here, on his knees, however you must. alive, pup. i have no use for corpses.”
just as well that He’d specified, honing the anger pumping harder in your veins the longer that the fool tears the quiet away from you.
“what do you say, pup?”
“thank you for this chance, sir,” you whisper back. “he will be brought to Your justice.” you and Him both know that you mean it with every atom in your body; that you would rather burn than see this fall through, for you will burn if it does.
He releases you, and steps back. motions you up with the knife in His hands; not the pretty one, the one that you know the pets fall in love with, that you yourself have begged for.
it’s a butcher’s knife.
good, the static whispers. it’s what he deserves.
“happy hunting, pup,” he tells you, with a smile that for once is not meant for you.
one hand closes around cool, familiar metal. you hoist it up, over your shoulders, before you bow, and vanish out the door as your rage blossoms.
up, and around, and about, and down. around, and around, deeper, and deeper. metal rings against metal, each tone overlapping the next.
you lift your head, and you know.
your time has come.
up, and down, and around, and about. the knife twirls in his hand, handles flickering across his knuckles, brushing against your arms. keep your eyes on his, pretty kitty, or you’ll be lost within the blades.
there’s nowhere left to run; you’re long past hiding.
“aren’t you tired, yet, pup?” the shadow asks you, and you shake your head furiously, desperately.
jackie had closed his eyes, after all, and the guard dog behind the shadow had opened its eyes, and you don’t know if he’ll ever wake back up for all of your magic and all of his love.
you can’t do the same. one of you has to remain, so that one of you doesn’t have to shoulder the world.
and then the blades flicker again, and your eyes are drawn to it. violet magic, cobalt tears drip from the ceiling, eating away at the strings that choke them out. violet magic, cobalt light plays off of the silver, and for a moment, just a moment, you are lost in its world.
for a single, shining moment, all that exists is your magic, and his blade, and their beautiful, beautiful song.
the knife clicks shut, hidden away, and the moment shatters. your eyes dart up to his; you expect cruelty, you find… curiosity, and somehow that is worse.
he steps closer, and the knife reappears in his hand. you shut your eyes; you have lost your dignity, and your freedom. you will not lose yourself to him.
he steps closer, and the static begins to sing as he speaks.
“you wanted it, pup, didn’t you? the quiet, the song. you are tired, more tired than you have ever been in your life.”
this is true. pain, and sorrow, and fear; it all sits heavy, heavy, heavy, in your bones. you have bled, and wept, and sacrificed, all for the strings to still be carved into your skin. you have fought, and all it has garnered you is-
“nothing. you have no legacy left, save for failure,” he croons, and you shut your eyes tighter against his words, willing them away. “you have nothing waiting for you, save for sorrow, and an empty house. don’t cry, pup; you’ve known this from the day that i brought you home, no matter how much you’ve refused to tell yourself these very words.”
something clicks, and metal begins to sing again, a rhythmic bell against the gentle whispering of the static. something prickles at the back of your neck, and you open your eyes to watch. the unknown is more fearsome than the light, than the butterfly knife slipping through his fingers in loops and whorls.
he is in front of you, and there are strings holding your neck tight, and you cannot look anywhere else save for him.
light catches the corner of your eye, and again. magic drips from the ceiling, into the blades, and its starlit depths beckon to you.
you cannot look away. something asks you why you would want to, and you find that it has stolen all of your words.
“do you hear the quiet, pup? an eternity of peace, at our sides. an eternity of nothing but the quiet, and the light.”
nothing but the quiet, and the light, you think, dazed. the blade is spinning quicker, and quicker, now, and you can hardly follow the stars winking in its path. the static has drowned out every panicked thought in your head, muffling their edges and suffocating the fear spiking in your gut.
“listen to the quiet, little star. listen, and sleep.”
