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@the-other-winchester
My name is Ettie Winchester. Yes, I'm the younger sister of Dean and Sam Winchester. Yes, those Winchesters. And yes, I'm just as bad as them.
“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” ― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
(Previous) 🔨🔪🗜️🪚
Eris taps the second buckle with one finger once she has the muzzle secured. Eris takes something from her pocket, unfolds the stems, and places Ettie’s glasses onto her face.
“There. That hair isn’t doing you any favors, but these glasses are cute.”
Eris steps away, back behind the bar again.
Zoe, across the room, is leaning against the couch, still sitting on the floor. Hes turned away, but from where Ettie is, she can see his head lolling.
A muffled clinking carries across the room, as Eris picks up a roll of something. Dark canvas, held rolled up by a leather strap. She unbuckles it, and rolls it out onto the nearest empty table, the one near Zophinael. He doesn’t seem to take much notice, as his head falls back onto the couch.
Most of the tools are recognizable. A couple of hammers, many blades, even a pair of brass knuckles among the tools. Everything is neatly held in place with a strip of fabric.
She gives everything a once over, to make sure everything’s in its place, then heads out of the room.
@the-other-winchester
Ettie recoils in tired irritation at the tap, and even more so at the way her glasses are shoved onto her face. Great, she gets to see her torture clearly now!!
She glowers, face burning at the comment on her haircut. As if drilling her hands and ankles aren't enough.
She glances over at Zoe, jaw clenched behind the muzzle. Would she have to keep the attention on her so they aren't messed with? Why was she even considering trying at all?
She squints as the tools are placed on the table. Great. Just great. Once Eris finally leaves, she grunts at Zoe, trying to get their attention. Maybe she can get them to hide one of the torture tools so they can use it to escape.
She isn't sure why she's still thinking of escape...
Zoe slumps to the floor, and looks over at Ettie, head laid on the carpet as they look towards her. Their eyes don’t focus on her, and they don’t even try to squint to see more clearly. As much as he’s healed, there’s still red spots where his pupils are.
The body they’re in really does seem much recovered. Their skin has lost some of the purple and yellow hues of frostbite. Their hair is clean, and they’re in fresh clothes. It definitely seems like the body they’re in is alive now, if a bit dinged up.
“Ettie… I’m not going to… I won’t figure out what you’re saying.”
He lifts his arm, and puts his hand on the table, like he’s going to try and sit up. His finger bumps in to the roll of tools, and his brow furrows. He grabs a tiny screwdriver, and clumsily tries to get the lock open with it. He slips the screwdriver under the couch as the door opens again.
A demon with pink hair and white horns leaves a cart full of food trays by the bar, and then starts mixing a drink.
Now that she can see them, she's a bit more uneasy. They're both dressed up for this stupid party. Are they both really to be entertainment for the rest of their sorry little lives?
She grunts more insistently when they take the screwdriver, nodding frantically.
"Mm! Mm—"
She falls silent as the new demon comes in. She's almost expecting a hoarde, but when she sees the food she grits her teeth. She didn't realize how hungry she is.
She glances at the new demon, eyes narrowed. Who's this bastard?
(Previous) 🔨🔪🗜️🪚
Eris taps the second buckle with one finger once she has the muzzle secured. Eris takes something from her pocket, unfolds the stems, and places Ettie’s glasses onto her face.
“There. That hair isn’t doing you any favors, but these glasses are cute.”
Eris steps away, back behind the bar again.
Zoe, across the room, is leaning against the couch, still sitting on the floor. Hes turned away, but from where Ettie is, she can see his head lolling.
A muffled clinking carries across the room, as Eris picks up a roll of something. Dark canvas, held rolled up by a leather strap. She unbuckles it, and rolls it out onto the nearest empty table, the one near Zophinael. He doesn’t seem to take much notice, as his head falls back onto the couch.
Most of the tools are recognizable. A couple of hammers, many blades, even a pair of brass knuckles among the tools. Everything is neatly held in place with a strip of fabric.
She gives everything a once over, to make sure everything’s in its place, then heads out of the room.
@the-other-winchester
Ettie recoils in tired irritation at the tap, and even more so at the way her glasses are shoved onto her face. Great, she gets to see her torture clearly now!!
She glowers, face burning at the comment on her haircut. As if drilling her hands and ankles aren't enough.
She glances over at Zoe, jaw clenched behind the muzzle. Would she have to keep the attention on her so they aren't messed with? Why was she even considering trying at all?
She squints as the tools are placed on the table. Great. Just great. Once Eris finally leaves, she grunts at Zoe, trying to get their attention. Maybe she can get them to hide one of the torture tools so they can use it to escape.
She isn't sure why she's still thinking of escape...
🛋️ Prev
They stop fiddling with the chain for a moment, just breathing hoarsely.
“That crystal… my halo… once I’m in a body, I can’t leave. I couldn’t leave you on my own.”
He hisses and yanks the lock keeping the cuff closed, giving it a few frustrated tugs. After a few seconds, they give up, and lean against the couch, breathing shakily.
“You’ve had just as much luck getting out as I have, I’m guessing.”
@the-other-winchester
"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, voice flat. "I'm actually lounging on a couch and drinking wine. I just really wanted to stay and spend the night with a group of demons who want to devour me whole!"
And she laughed, a bit madly. Her voice was not the slightest bit humorous. She was also slurring.
"I'm just reaaalllyyy fucking happy to be here, ya know...? All my life haunted by nightmares of Hell, and now I'm back where I belong. Isn't that funny???"
She starts laughing again, even if she doesn't find this funny at all. Everything just hurts and she's exhausted and the alcohol in her system is making everything feel stupider. She's been brought way lower than she would ever want to admit.
He lowers his head some, hiding his face. Not that his expression could really be made out from across the room.
“I don’t think you belong here. I think you belong… in a diner, with like- pancakes. Do they still have diners up there?”
Her laughter seems to have them on edge a little, a little worried about her. Quite worried about both of them.
He looks in her direction, blinking a few times, then squinting. He shakes his head and looks down again. The way he’s leaning against the couch, holding his head, like he’s trying not to be sick. And failing.
“Nothing but blobs still.”
"A diner." She's now lying on top of the table, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She wonders if she can get a quick nap in before her next round of torture. Being in Hell again at least meant that her Hell nightmares didn't really bother her anymore. "Waddaya think I am, a damn waitress??"
She rubs her eyes, and twitches and grits her teeth again, in pain from moving her arm.
"Blobs. Heh. Welcome to the club." She closes her eyes. "M'ybe that corpse needs some glasses."
She should've drank more. Then at least maybe she'd be numb for whatever is coming next.
She seemed to become less and less responsive. But she also seemed to be less on edge now that she wasn't alone again. At least SOMEONE would hear her screams.
"Why're you even here?" She asks, slurring still.
“No, like a customer. I can imagine you enjoying a late morning with a plate of eggs and bacon. Stubbornly deciding to have a nice time for half an hour.”
They fiddle with the lock, picking their nails at the keyhole. Not like they can do anything else.
“When an angel sucks at their job, they get demoted. Some earthly duties are prestigious, grand. Others, are where they toss the bottom of the barrel. The expendable ones. Guarding fragile seams between the hells and the mortal realm is one of those. There’s always one of those to fill because there’s always a missing angel.”
The door closes with a click, and Eris walks toward the bar, heels impossibly quiet, even on the carpeted portion of the room.
“I thought you got snatched up by a human mage who catches angels for a living. A few flattering words, and you drank whatever he gave you without question.”
She unlocks a cabinet, and pulls a vial from it. She uncorks it and pours it into a shot glass. A couple different colored liquids later, and she’s pulling the fluid into a syringe.
“I’m not your type, lucky I don’t have to convince you to drink anything.”
Ettie snorts. She couldn't remember the LAST time she ever stubbornly tried to have a good time. Good times didn't happen often in this life.
She listens to their explanation, struggling to stay awake. Most of what they say enters one ear and exits out the other. She was sure that this was the most out of it she's been in a while. She considers succumbing, but she can't. She's already vulnerable enough.
Her mind sharpens when Eris suddenly returns, and she jerks against the chains slightly, gritting her teeth in pain as she watches the demon prepare the concoction.
She couldn't tell who it was for. But her foggy brain assumed the angel.
"Leave them alone," she hisses weakly, the slurring a little less than before. She's struggling to make her eyes focus.
“Believe me, human. You don’t want me leaving the angel alone. This stuff might only knock a celestial on its back, but what it’ll do to you will make those screws in your limbs seem pleasant.”
The chain holding Zoe to the couch snaps taught, as he backs away, eyes wide enough to show how bloodshot they still are. Eris ignores Ettie completely as she gets to work administering the drug.
“No- please no, no more!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Zophinael. You used to beg for this stuff. Some part of you must still crave it.”
She circles around him, avoiding his sluggish kicking. She grabs the chain, and shoves him to the couch, before sitting on his back to hold him down. He flinches and shouts as the needle goes in his shoulder, but he doesn’t try to pull away.
When she steps back, he turns his head away, ashamed, and sits on the floor.
"Leave- leave 'em alone-" she growls, although she knows its useless. She can only watch, hands limp in her lap as the drug is administered. She grits her teeth, breathing shallowly through her nose as she tries to ignore the throbbing in her wrists and ankles.
"The... the hell did you give 'em?" She demands. She is almost hoping she'll get some too, although being drugged up and stoned for the demons to do whatever they wanted to her wasn't something she wanted either. But the pain just wouldn't stop.
"Angel—you okay?" She isn't sure it she's still slurring.
“It’s like heroin, but it works on angels. A hundred times stronger to humans, you’d end up out of your mind for weeks.”
Zoe shoots a glare at Eris while her back is turned, then casts a shameful glance at Ettie. They murmur just loud enough to be heard, their shoulders held low.
“M’fine. Takes a few minutes. Then I’ll be… I won’t be very aware.”
Eris heads over to Ettie next, no vials or glasses of liquor, a set of leather straps in hand. Eris wraps the muzzle under her chin, over her mouth, and up behind her head in one smooth motion. There’s a short metal straw through the part that covers her mouth, meant to let her breathe if she can’t through her nose. Eris pulls it behind her head firmly, until it feels like the metal might break her teeth. There’s flat leather strips under and over the straw, to bite down on.
“Open. Or I pull your teeth out.”
She intends to respond, only for any words to be cut short as Eris approaches. She jerks back, head immediately pulling away once she sees what she has, and lets out a cry as she yanks against the chains. The pain makes her unable to resist. And even if she weren't attached to the chains by her very bones, she really didn't have much movement anyway.
Still, she couldn't help the weak struggling as she tries to shake the leather muzzle loose, grunting and pulling relentlessly. But Eris is stronger than her, no question. Soon the muzzle is strapped firmly over her face, and her cheeks burn with anger and shame as she glares.
She doesn't want to open her mouth. She doesn't want to have that stupid straw inside. But with everything that was about to happen... she knew that this muzzle would soon be the least of her problems.
She grunts, emotionless as she hesitantly opened her mouth. She wishes she could bite off Eris's fingers.
🛋️ Prev
They stop fiddling with the chain for a moment, just breathing hoarsely.
“That crystal… my halo… once I’m in a body, I can’t leave. I couldn’t leave you on my own.”
He hisses and yanks the lock keeping the cuff closed, giving it a few frustrated tugs. After a few seconds, they give up, and lean against the couch, breathing shakily.
“You’ve had just as much luck getting out as I have, I’m guessing.”
@the-other-winchester
"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, voice flat. "I'm actually lounging on a couch and drinking wine. I just really wanted to stay and spend the night with a group of demons who want to devour me whole!"
And she laughed, a bit madly. Her voice was not the slightest bit humorous. She was also slurring.
"I'm just reaaalllyyy fucking happy to be here, ya know...? All my life haunted by nightmares of Hell, and now I'm back where I belong. Isn't that funny???"
She starts laughing again, even if she doesn't find this funny at all. Everything just hurts and she's exhausted and the alcohol in her system is making everything feel stupider. She's been brought way lower than she would ever want to admit.
He lowers his head some, hiding his face. Not that his expression could really be made out from across the room.
“I don’t think you belong here. I think you belong… in a diner, with like- pancakes. Do they still have diners up there?”
Her laughter seems to have them on edge a little, a little worried about her. Quite worried about both of them.
He looks in her direction, blinking a few times, then squinting. He shakes his head and looks down again. The way he’s leaning against the couch, holding his head, like he’s trying not to be sick. And failing.
“Nothing but blobs still.”
"A diner." She's now lying on top of the table, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She wonders if she can get a quick nap in before her next round of torture. Being in Hell again at least meant that her Hell nightmares didn't really bother her anymore. "Waddaya think I am, a damn waitress??"
She rubs her eyes, and twitches and grits her teeth again, in pain from moving her arm.
"Blobs. Heh. Welcome to the club." She closes her eyes. "M'ybe that corpse needs some glasses."
She should've drank more. Then at least maybe she'd be numb for whatever is coming next.
She seemed to become less and less responsive. But she also seemed to be less on edge now that she wasn't alone again. At least SOMEONE would hear her screams.
"Why're you even here?" She asks, slurring still.
“No, like a customer. I can imagine you enjoying a late morning with a plate of eggs and bacon. Stubbornly deciding to have a nice time for half an hour.”
They fiddle with the lock, picking their nails at the keyhole. Not like they can do anything else.
“When an angel sucks at their job, they get demoted. Some earthly duties are prestigious, grand. Others, are where they toss the bottom of the barrel. The expendable ones. Guarding fragile seams between the hells and the mortal realm is one of those. There’s always one of those to fill because there’s always a missing angel.”
The door closes with a click, and Eris walks toward the bar, heels impossibly quiet, even on the carpeted portion of the room.
“I thought you got snatched up by a human mage who catches angels for a living. A few flattering words, and you drank whatever he gave you without question.”
She unlocks a cabinet, and pulls a vial from it. She uncorks it and pours it into a shot glass. A couple different colored liquids later, and she’s pulling the fluid into a syringe.
“I’m not your type, lucky I don’t have to convince you to drink anything.”
Ettie snorts. She couldn't remember the LAST time she ever stubbornly tried to have a good time. Good times didn't happen often in this life.
She listens to their explanation, struggling to stay awake. Most of what they say enters one ear and exits out the other. She was sure that this was the most out of it she's been in a while. She considers succumbing, but she can't. She's already vulnerable enough.
Her mind sharpens when Eris suddenly returns, and she jerks against the chains slightly, gritting her teeth in pain as she watches the demon prepare the concoction.
She couldn't tell who it was for. But her foggy brain assumed the angel.
"Leave them alone," she hisses weakly, the slurring a little less than before. She's struggling to make her eyes focus.
“Believe me, human. You don’t want me leaving the angel alone. This stuff might only knock a celestial on its back, but what it’ll do to you will make those screws in your limbs seem pleasant.”
The chain holding Zoe to the couch snaps taught, as he backs away, eyes wide enough to show how bloodshot they still are. Eris ignores Ettie completely as she gets to work administering the drug.
“No- please no, no more!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Zophinael. You used to beg for this stuff. Some part of you must still crave it.”
She circles around him, avoiding his sluggish kicking. She grabs the chain, and shoves him to the couch, before sitting on his back to hold him down. He flinches and shouts as the needle goes in his shoulder, but he doesn’t try to pull away.
When she steps back, he turns his head away, ashamed, and sits on the floor.
"Leave- leave 'em alone-" she growls, although she knows its useless. She can only watch, hands limp in her lap as the drug is administered. She grits her teeth, breathing shallowly through her nose as she tries to ignore the throbbing in her wrists and ankles.
"The... the hell did you give 'em?" She demands. She is almost hoping she'll get some too, although being drugged up and stoned for the demons to do whatever they wanted to her wasn't something she wanted either. But the pain just wouldn't stop.
"Angel—you okay?" She isn't sure it she's still slurring.
🛋️ Prev
They stop fiddling with the chain for a moment, just breathing hoarsely.
“That crystal… my halo… once I’m in a body, I can’t leave. I couldn’t leave you on my own.”
He hisses and yanks the lock keeping the cuff closed, giving it a few frustrated tugs. After a few seconds, they give up, and lean against the couch, breathing shakily.
“You’ve had just as much luck getting out as I have, I’m guessing.”
@the-other-winchester
"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, voice flat. "I'm actually lounging on a couch and drinking wine. I just really wanted to stay and spend the night with a group of demons who want to devour me whole!"
And she laughed, a bit madly. Her voice was not the slightest bit humorous. She was also slurring.
"I'm just reaaalllyyy fucking happy to be here, ya know...? All my life haunted by nightmares of Hell, and now I'm back where I belong. Isn't that funny???"
She starts laughing again, even if she doesn't find this funny at all. Everything just hurts and she's exhausted and the alcohol in her system is making everything feel stupider. She's been brought way lower than she would ever want to admit.
He lowers his head some, hiding his face. Not that his expression could really be made out from across the room.
“I don’t think you belong here. I think you belong… in a diner, with like- pancakes. Do they still have diners up there?”
Her laughter seems to have them on edge a little, a little worried about her. Quite worried about both of them.
He looks in her direction, blinking a few times, then squinting. He shakes his head and looks down again. The way he’s leaning against the couch, holding his head, like he’s trying not to be sick. And failing.
“Nothing but blobs still.”
"A diner." She's now lying on top of the table, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She wonders if she can get a quick nap in before her next round of torture. Being in Hell again at least meant that her Hell nightmares didn't really bother her anymore. "Waddaya think I am, a damn waitress??"
She rubs her eyes, and twitches and grits her teeth again, in pain from moving her arm.
"Blobs. Heh. Welcome to the club." She closes her eyes. "M'ybe that corpse needs some glasses."
She should've drank more. Then at least maybe she'd be numb for whatever is coming next.
She seemed to become less and less responsive. But she also seemed to be less on edge now that she wasn't alone again. At least SOMEONE would hear her screams.
"Why're you even here?" She asks, slurring still.
“No, like a customer. I can imagine you enjoying a late morning with a plate of eggs and bacon. Stubbornly deciding to have a nice time for half an hour.”
They fiddle with the lock, picking their nails at the keyhole. Not like they can do anything else.
“When an angel sucks at their job, they get demoted. Some earthly duties are prestigious, grand. Others, are where they toss the bottom of the barrel. The expendable ones. Guarding fragile seams between the hells and the mortal realm is one of those. There’s always one of those to fill because there’s always a missing angel.”
The door closes with a click, and Eris walks toward the bar, heels impossibly quiet, even on the carpeted portion of the room.
“I thought you got snatched up by a human mage who catches angels for a living. A few flattering words, and you drank whatever he gave you without question.”
She unlocks a cabinet, and pulls a vial from it. She uncorks it and pours it into a shot glass. A couple different colored liquids later, and she’s pulling the fluid into a syringe.
“I’m not your type, lucky I don’t have to convince you to drink anything.”
Ettie snorts. She couldn't remember the LAST time she ever stubbornly tried to have a good time. Good times didn't happen often in this life.
She listens to their explanation, struggling to stay awake. Most of what they say enters one ear and exits out the other. She was sure that this was the most out of it she's been in a while. She considers succumbing, but she can't. She's already vulnerable enough.
Her mind sharpens when Eris suddenly returns, and she jerks against the chains slightly, gritting her teeth in pain as she watches the demon prepare the concoction.
She couldn't tell who it was for. But her foggy brain assumed the angel.
"Leave them alone," she hisses weakly, the slurring a little less than before. She's struggling to make her eyes focus.
🛋️ Prev
They stop fiddling with the chain for a moment, just breathing hoarsely.
“That crystal… my halo… once I’m in a body, I can’t leave. I couldn’t leave you on my own.”
He hisses and yanks the lock keeping the cuff closed, giving it a few frustrated tugs. After a few seconds, they give up, and lean against the couch, breathing shakily.
“You’ve had just as much luck getting out as I have, I’m guessing.”
@the-other-winchester
"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, voice flat. "I'm actually lounging on a couch and drinking wine. I just really wanted to stay and spend the night with a group of demons who want to devour me whole!"
And she laughed, a bit madly. Her voice was not the slightest bit humorous. She was also slurring.
"I'm just reaaalllyyy fucking happy to be here, ya know...? All my life haunted by nightmares of Hell, and now I'm back where I belong. Isn't that funny???"
She starts laughing again, even if she doesn't find this funny at all. Everything just hurts and she's exhausted and the alcohol in her system is making everything feel stupider. She's been brought way lower than she would ever want to admit.
He lowers his head some, hiding his face. Not that his expression could really be made out from across the room.
“I don’t think you belong here. I think you belong… in a diner, with like- pancakes. Do they still have diners up there?”
Her laughter seems to have them on edge a little, a little worried about her. Quite worried about both of them.
He looks in her direction, blinking a few times, then squinting. He shakes his head and looks down again. The way he’s leaning against the couch, holding his head, like he’s trying not to be sick. And failing.
“Nothing but blobs still.”
"A diner." She's now lying on top of the table, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. She wonders if she can get a quick nap in before her next round of torture. Being in Hell again at least meant that her Hell nightmares didn't really bother her anymore. "Waddaya think I am, a damn waitress??"
She rubs her eyes, and twitches and grits her teeth again, in pain from moving her arm.
"Blobs. Heh. Welcome to the club." She closes her eyes. "M'ybe that corpse needs some glasses."
She should've drank more. Then at least maybe she'd be numb for whatever is coming next.
She seemed to become less and less responsive. But she also seemed to be less on edge now that she wasn't alone again. At least SOMEONE would hear her screams.
"Why're you even here?" She asks, slurring still.
🛋️ Prev
They stop fiddling with the chain for a moment, just breathing hoarsely.
“That crystal… my halo… once I’m in a body, I can’t leave. I couldn’t leave you on my own.”
He hisses and yanks the lock keeping the cuff closed, giving it a few frustrated tugs. After a few seconds, they give up, and lean against the couch, breathing shakily.
“You’ve had just as much luck getting out as I have, I’m guessing.”
@the-other-winchester
"Oh, yeah," she says sarcastically, voice flat. "I'm actually lounging on a couch and drinking wine. I just really wanted to stay and spend the night with a group of demons who want to devour me whole!"
And she laughed, a bit madly. Her voice was not the slightest bit humorous. She was also slurring.
"I'm just reaaalllyyy fucking happy to be here, ya know...? All my life haunted by nightmares of Hell, and now I'm back where I belong. Isn't that funny???"
She starts laughing again, even if she doesn't find this funny at all. Everything just hurts and she's exhausted and the alcohol in her system is making everything feel stupider. She's been brought way lower than she would ever want to admit.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Eris lets go reflexively, but Ettie doesn’t manage to get any of the drink onto either of them. It wasn’t much in the first place, but it’s still enough to fill her nose with a nasty stinging burn.
“You’re dumber than I thought. You thought it wouldn’t absorb even more like that? Holding it on your tongue, getting it all through your airways, and breathing it in- almost like you’re trying to get as much as possible into your blood.”
Her hand is back to Ettie’s face, and Ettie’s neck is craned as her head is tilted back. Eris is behind her now, looking down at her. Holding the glass to pour more alcohol into her mouth. A little makes it in, before her mouth is covered again.
“I’ve never thought of waterboarding with alcohol. You learn something new every day I guess.”
She knows it was stupid, but the small moment of pettiness makes her feel just a bit more defiant once more. She knows it won't matter. She knows that they'll get her drunk eventually. But as long as she keeps fighting, then she isn't truly gone, right? At least, that's what she's trying to make herself believe. Better than accepting the overwhelming feeling of helplessness creeping in at the edge of her mind.
She struggles and thrashes her head, as more of the drink is poured into her mouth. And she tries again to spit it out. But once the hand returns over her mouth she knows that at this tilted angle, pulling what she just did would only waterboard her worse. So she swallows as quickly as possible, grimacing and coughing, reaching up to try to yank Eris's hand off her face. She futilely tries to bite her fingers once more.
The chains stop her just barely from reaching Eris’s hand, but she lets go of her anyway. She pats Ettie’s cheek once again, and heads over to the bar again.
“Much less disappointing.”
The stone table top is terrible on her knees- but the table is pretty wide, and with the chains to each corner, she could move a little and sit with her legs folded to either side of her.
While she recovers her breath, and the burning very slowly starts to fade, Eris stands at the bar. She steps out with a pink cherry on a toothpick, and looks to Ettie again.
“Guests will be here in an hour or so. I’m hoping to see more of that feistiness by then. Be sure and put up a challenge, that’ll be great.”
She eats the cherry and heads out of the room, dropping the toothpick in a small trash can by the door.
She glares and jerks her head away as her cheek is patted, breathing heavily. Her fists are clenched tight even if it hurts, shaking slightly as she watches Erik as she speaks.
She is now conflicted. Does she continue to fight to preserve her pride—and do exactly what Eris wants in the process, or does she go against her wishes, by asking cooperative and docile?
She's silent as Eris leaves the room. Once she's certain she's gone, she looks down at her ruined wrists, with the metal bolt drilled into them. She grits her teeth, bending her head down and biting down against the chain, as close as she can to the bolt, and pulls as hard as she can.
Pain flares immediately, but the alcohol coursing through her body numbs it enough for her to keep going. Even when her wrists starts to bleed once more.
The bolt doesn’t budge. Threading is too tightly secured into the bone, she’d have to break her own bone to get it out. It would be just as effective to try and pull the chains from the stone table. All she accomplishes is more bleeding, as she aggravates the wound.
She doesn’t end up waiting very long though, as the door opens behind her a few minutes later. Havoc, carrying the elf that Zophinael was inhabiting- looking vaguely less bloodied and injured, but he’s not close enough for her to see him clearly. Havoc sets him down on a couch on the other side of the room, and chains his ankle to a bolt on the floor under a table in front of it. He groans as he’s sat down, but the voice of the vessel he’s in seems to be less strained.
Havoc moves to leave without saying anything.
By the time both wrists are bleeding again, Havoc returns, and she looks up and her eyes widen slightly when she sees Zophinael.
She doesn't speak. She doesn't want to screw up her chance to talk to the angel. So she stays silent instead of speaking to Havoc, avoiding looking at her. She doesn't know why Havoc suddenly has no desire to taunt her somehow, but hell, she'll take it. Instead she continues to stare at the angel, trying to see them. But they're too far away and her eyes can't focus on him no matter how hard she tries.
The way she practically dropped Zoe onto the couch, and now doesn’t bother to close the door all the way, she really just seems to not want to be bothered to mess with Ettie for the moment. She gives Ettie the same consideration she’d give any other table decoration before leaving.
The chain clinks as Zoe moves their leg, trying to sit up- and succeeds in falling to the couch. They mumble something incoherent, and try pushing themself back up, knocking a small cushion to the floor.
“damnit…”
He kicks softly, and the chain pulls taut.
"... Zoe," Ettie gasps, teeth gritted as she breathes through the pain. As long as she avoids moving too much...
"What- what the-" she cranes her head, trying to see them, and lets out stifled cry as the chains shift and tug.
"... You look like hell." She swallows. "What the fuck did they do to you...?" She grits out, gripping the chains to try to hide the rattling from her involuntary trembling.
He turns his head towards Ettie, and squints. There’s less redness than before, but it doesn’t seem that he’s gotten much vision yet. Still, better than when his eyes were bloodied.
“And you’re looking…” he takes a second to breathe, leaning on one arm to prop himself up. “…positively radiant. I can’t see a damned thing.”
Zoe leans forward, and puts their hands on the table, managing to get crouched on the floor, where they can try and fiddle with the chain on their ankle. Their words slur together, and their voice strains and cracks.
“Vigil helped me— heal this body a little… but- everything still hurts. This body must have been dead a couple day before being frozen.”
She feels somewhat relieved that they can't see how she looks now. How low she's been brought, in this stupid dress, chains drilled into her limbs... she didn't want them to see her like that. It was probably selfish of her to be glad they couldn't.
"You... wouldn't be able to try and leave that body... and possess mine again, would you?" She asks, trying to sound sarcastic, but a small part of her genuinely... hoping. The angel being taken from her hurt more than she wanted to admit. Being alone hurt more than she wanted to admit.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Eris lets go reflexively, but Ettie doesn’t manage to get any of the drink onto either of them. It wasn’t much in the first place, but it’s still enough to fill her nose with a nasty stinging burn.
“You’re dumber than I thought. You thought it wouldn’t absorb even more like that? Holding it on your tongue, getting it all through your airways, and breathing it in- almost like you’re trying to get as much as possible into your blood.”
Her hand is back to Ettie’s face, and Ettie’s neck is craned as her head is tilted back. Eris is behind her now, looking down at her. Holding the glass to pour more alcohol into her mouth. A little makes it in, before her mouth is covered again.
“I’ve never thought of waterboarding with alcohol. You learn something new every day I guess.”
She knows it was stupid, but the small moment of pettiness makes her feel just a bit more defiant once more. She knows it won't matter. She knows that they'll get her drunk eventually. But as long as she keeps fighting, then she isn't truly gone, right? At least, that's what she's trying to make herself believe. Better than accepting the overwhelming feeling of helplessness creeping in at the edge of her mind.
She struggles and thrashes her head, as more of the drink is poured into her mouth. And she tries again to spit it out. But once the hand returns over her mouth she knows that at this tilted angle, pulling what she just did would only waterboard her worse. So she swallows as quickly as possible, grimacing and coughing, reaching up to try to yank Eris's hand off her face. She futilely tries to bite her fingers once more.
The chains stop her just barely from reaching Eris’s hand, but she lets go of her anyway. She pats Ettie’s cheek once again, and heads over to the bar again.
“Much less disappointing.”
The stone table top is terrible on her knees- but the table is pretty wide, and with the chains to each corner, she could move a little and sit with her legs folded to either side of her.
While she recovers her breath, and the burning very slowly starts to fade, Eris stands at the bar. She steps out with a pink cherry on a toothpick, and looks to Ettie again.
“Guests will be here in an hour or so. I’m hoping to see more of that feistiness by then. Be sure and put up a challenge, that’ll be great.”
She eats the cherry and heads out of the room, dropping the toothpick in a small trash can by the door.
She glares and jerks her head away as her cheek is patted, breathing heavily. Her fists are clenched tight even if it hurts, shaking slightly as she watches Erik as she speaks.
She is now conflicted. Does she continue to fight to preserve her pride—and do exactly what Eris wants in the process, or does she go against her wishes, by asking cooperative and docile?
She's silent as Eris leaves the room. Once she's certain she's gone, she looks down at her ruined wrists, with the metal bolt drilled into them. She grits her teeth, bending her head down and biting down against the chain, as close as she can to the bolt, and pulls as hard as she can.
Pain flares immediately, but the alcohol coursing through her body numbs it enough for her to keep going. Even when her wrists starts to bleed once more.
The bolt doesn’t budge. Threading is too tightly secured into the bone, she’d have to break her own bone to get it out. It would be just as effective to try and pull the chains from the stone table. All she accomplishes is more bleeding, as she aggravates the wound.
She doesn’t end up waiting very long though, as the door opens behind her a few minutes later. Havoc, carrying the elf that Zophinael was inhabiting- looking vaguely less bloodied and injured, but he’s not close enough for her to see him clearly. Havoc sets him down on a couch on the other side of the room, and chains his ankle to a bolt on the floor under a table in front of it. He groans as he’s sat down, but the voice of the vessel he’s in seems to be less strained.
Havoc moves to leave without saying anything.
By the time both wrists are bleeding again, Havoc returns, and she looks up and her eyes widen slightly when she sees Zophinael.
She doesn't speak. She doesn't want to screw up her chance to talk to the angel. So she stays silent instead of speaking to Havoc, avoiding looking at her. She doesn't know why Havoc suddenly has no desire to taunt her somehow, but hell, she'll take it. Instead she continues to stare at the angel, trying to see them. But they're too far away and her eyes can't focus on him no matter how hard she tries.
The way she practically dropped Zoe onto the couch, and now doesn’t bother to close the door all the way, she really just seems to not want to be bothered to mess with Ettie for the moment. She gives Ettie the same consideration she’d give any other table decoration before leaving.
The chain clinks as Zoe moves their leg, trying to sit up- and succeeds in falling to the couch. They mumble something incoherent, and try pushing themself back up, knocking a small cushion to the floor.
“damnit…”
He kicks softly, and the chain pulls taut.
"... Zoe," Ettie gasps, teeth gritted as she breathes through the pain. As long as she avoids moving too much...
"What- what the-" she cranes her head, trying to see them, and lets out stifled cry as the chains shift and tug.
"... You look like hell." She swallows. "What the fuck did they do to you...?" She grits out, gripping the chains to try to hide the rattling from her involuntary trembling.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Eris lets go reflexively, but Ettie doesn’t manage to get any of the drink onto either of them. It wasn’t much in the first place, but it’s still enough to fill her nose with a nasty stinging burn.
“You’re dumber than I thought. You thought it wouldn’t absorb even more like that? Holding it on your tongue, getting it all through your airways, and breathing it in- almost like you’re trying to get as much as possible into your blood.”
Her hand is back to Ettie’s face, and Ettie’s neck is craned as her head is tilted back. Eris is behind her now, looking down at her. Holding the glass to pour more alcohol into her mouth. A little makes it in, before her mouth is covered again.
“I’ve never thought of waterboarding with alcohol. You learn something new every day I guess.”
She knows it was stupid, but the small moment of pettiness makes her feel just a bit more defiant once more. She knows it won't matter. She knows that they'll get her drunk eventually. But as long as she keeps fighting, then she isn't truly gone, right? At least, that's what she's trying to make herself believe. Better than accepting the overwhelming feeling of helplessness creeping in at the edge of her mind.
She struggles and thrashes her head, as more of the drink is poured into her mouth. And she tries again to spit it out. But once the hand returns over her mouth she knows that at this tilted angle, pulling what she just did would only waterboard her worse. So she swallows as quickly as possible, grimacing and coughing, reaching up to try to yank Eris's hand off her face. She futilely tries to bite her fingers once more.
The chains stop her just barely from reaching Eris’s hand, but she lets go of her anyway. She pats Ettie’s cheek once again, and heads over to the bar again.
“Much less disappointing.”
The stone table top is terrible on her knees- but the table is pretty wide, and with the chains to each corner, she could move a little and sit with her legs folded to either side of her.
While she recovers her breath, and the burning very slowly starts to fade, Eris stands at the bar. She steps out with a pink cherry on a toothpick, and looks to Ettie again.
“Guests will be here in an hour or so. I’m hoping to see more of that feistiness by then. Be sure and put up a challenge, that’ll be great.”
She eats the cherry and heads out of the room, dropping the toothpick in a small trash can by the door.
She glares and jerks her head away as her cheek is patted, breathing heavily. Her fists are clenched tight even if it hurts, shaking slightly as she watches Erik as she speaks.
She is now conflicted. Does she continue to fight to preserve her pride—and do exactly what Eris wants in the process, or does she go against her wishes, by asking cooperative and docile?
She's silent as Eris leaves the room. Once she's certain she's gone, she looks down at her ruined wrists, with the metal bolt drilled into them. She grits her teeth, bending her head down and biting down against the chain, as close as she can to the bolt, and pulls as hard as she can.
Pain flares immediately, but the alcohol coursing through her body numbs it enough for her to keep going. Even when her wrists starts to bleed once more.
The bolt doesn’t budge. Threading is too tightly secured into the bone, she’d have to break her own bone to get it out. It would be just as effective to try and pull the chains from the stone table. All she accomplishes is more bleeding, as she aggravates the wound.
She doesn’t end up waiting very long though, as the door opens behind her a few minutes later. Havoc, carrying the elf that Zophinael was inhabiting- looking vaguely less bloodied and injured, but he’s not close enough for her to see him clearly. Havoc sets him down on a couch on the other side of the room, and chains his ankle to a bolt on the floor under a table in front of it. He groans as he’s sat down, but the voice of the vessel he’s in seems to be less strained.
Havoc moves to leave without saying anything.
By the time both wrists are bleeding again, Havoc returns, and she looks up and her eyes widen slightly when she sees Zophinael.
She doesn't speak. She doesn't want to screw up her chance to talk to the angel. So she stays silent instead of speaking to Havoc, avoiding looking at her. She doesn't know why Havoc suddenly has no desire to taunt her somehow, but hell, she'll take it. Instead she continues to stare at the angel, trying to see them. But they're too far away and her eyes can't focus on him no matter how hard she tries.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Eris lets go reflexively, but Ettie doesn’t manage to get any of the drink onto either of them. It wasn’t much in the first place, but it’s still enough to fill her nose with a nasty stinging burn.
“You’re dumber than I thought. You thought it wouldn’t absorb even more like that? Holding it on your tongue, getting it all through your airways, and breathing it in- almost like you’re trying to get as much as possible into your blood.”
Her hand is back to Ettie’s face, and Ettie’s neck is craned as her head is tilted back. Eris is behind her now, looking down at her. Holding the glass to pour more alcohol into her mouth. A little makes it in, before her mouth is covered again.
“I’ve never thought of waterboarding with alcohol. You learn something new every day I guess.”
She knows it was stupid, but the small moment of pettiness makes her feel just a bit more defiant once more. She knows it won't matter. She knows that they'll get her drunk eventually. But as long as she keeps fighting, then she isn't truly gone, right? At least, that's what she's trying to make herself believe. Better than accepting the overwhelming feeling of helplessness creeping in at the edge of her mind.
She struggles and thrashes her head, as more of the drink is poured into her mouth. And she tries again to spit it out. But once the hand returns over her mouth she knows that at this tilted angle, pulling what she just did would only waterboard her worse. So she swallows as quickly as possible, grimacing and coughing, reaching up to try to yank Eris's hand off her face. She futilely tries to bite her fingers once more.
The chains stop her just barely from reaching Eris’s hand, but she lets go of her anyway. She pats Ettie’s cheek once again, and heads over to the bar again.
“Much less disappointing.”
The stone table top is terrible on her knees- but the table is pretty wide, and with the chains to each corner, she could move a little and sit with her legs folded to either side of her.
While she recovers her breath, and the burning very slowly starts to fade, Eris stands at the bar. She steps out with a pink cherry on a toothpick, and looks to Ettie again.
“Guests will be here in an hour or so. I’m hoping to see more of that feistiness by then. Be sure and put up a challenge, that’ll be great.”
She eats the cherry and heads out of the room, dropping the toothpick in a small trash can by the door.
She glares and jerks her head away as her cheek is patted, breathing heavily. Her fists are clenched tight even if it hurts, shaking slightly as she watches Erik as she speaks.
She is now conflicted. Does she continue to fight to preserve her pride—and do exactly what Eris wants in the process, or does she go against her wishes, by asking cooperative and docile?
She's silent as Eris leaves the room. Once she's certain she's gone, she looks down at her ruined wrists, with the metal bolt drilled into them. She grits her teeth, bending her head down and biting down against the chain, as close as she can to the bolt, and pulls as hard as she can.
Pain flares immediately, but the alcohol coursing through her body numbs it enough for her to keep going. Even when her wrists starts to bleed once more.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Eris lets go reflexively, but Ettie doesn’t manage to get any of the drink onto either of them. It wasn’t much in the first place, but it’s still enough to fill her nose with a nasty stinging burn.
“You’re dumber than I thought. You thought it wouldn’t absorb even more like that? Holding it on your tongue, getting it all through your airways, and breathing it in- almost like you’re trying to get as much as possible into your blood.”
Her hand is back to Ettie’s face, and Ettie’s neck is craned as her head is tilted back. Eris is behind her now, looking down at her. Holding the glass to pour more alcohol into her mouth. A little makes it in, before her mouth is covered again.
“I’ve never thought of waterboarding with alcohol. You learn something new every day I guess.”
She knows it was stupid, but the small moment of pettiness makes her feel just a bit more defiant once more. She knows it won't matter. She knows that they'll get her drunk eventually. But as long as she keeps fighting, then she isn't truly gone, right? At least, that's what she's trying to make herself believe. Better than accepting the overwhelming feeling of helplessness creeping in at the edge of her mind.
She struggles and thrashes her head, as more of the drink is poured into her mouth. And she tries again to spit it out. But once the hand returns over her mouth she knows that at this tilted angle, pulling what she just did would only waterboard her worse. So she swallows as quickly as possible, grimacing and coughing, reaching up to try to yank Eris's hand off her face. She futilely tries to bite her fingers once more.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
Eris grabs her face, and pours some of the drink past her lips. Immediately, there’s a hand over her mouth, the drink is set down somewhere, and there’s another hand behind her head.
Eris holds her there, her expression softly condescending.
“I’ve got a fun fact for you, and I can promise it’s going to be a real kicker.”
She pauses for a moment, making sure her hold on Ettie’s head keeps her from being able to spit any of the drink out. The alcohol warms her mouth, a numbing, spicy burn.
“Holding alcohol in your mouth like that gets it into your blood much more quickly than swallowing it. A few minutes like this, and it’ll be like you’ve had four shots.”
The warmth definitely seems to be spreading. Whatever brand of whiskey she got, it’s strong. Very strong.
"Mmm—!"
Ettie immediately thrashes her head when the drink is poured into her mouth. She tries to spit it out past the hand over her face, but is unable to. Her glare suddenly returns, as she jerks her head and shouts in protest.
"MMM—" She glares at her as she breathes heavily through her nose. But she can tell Eris is telling the truth. The numbing warmth is getting worse.
But she can't let her win like that. She's too petty for that, and despite how low she's been brought, she still has her pride. But, ugh—she knows this'll hurt. And she knows it won't work for long. But at this rate, so does everything else.
So she pushes as hard as she can, and the whiskey sprays out of her nose. And it hurts like HELL. It feels like her face is on fire, and she lets out pained, shuddering gasps as she tries to breathe.
Previous 🥂
“Or perhaps you’d prefer something stronger.”
Havoc has restrained her so that she’s on her knees, hands chained in front of her and ankles chained behind her, with a bit of slack. Shes got plenty of room to struggle- and anyone could grab the chains to pin her down with.
Eris heads back to the counter and gets another glass for her, and fills it from an amber bottle. When it’s brought to her, she can smell caramely alcohol, with something like citrus and spice. Whiskey.
“I don’t care what you drink, I just want you more responsive than… this. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see you cooperate, but anyone who comes here and knows about your family is going to expect some fight left in you.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie remains in the position she's been placed on, breathing shallowly at the weight of her body placed on her ankles. She's trying to find a way to sit in a way that injures her further, but every movement makes the chain pull, and that hurts worse. So she resorts to putting the pressure on her knees instead, which doesn't feel all that better. Her legs already begin to tremble quite early in.
She looks up at the smell of whiskey, staring at the glass with slightly narrowed eyes. Yeah, no. She turns her head again. She'd rather not be intoxicated while surrounded by demons, thanks. She stays silent and refuses to acknowledge her, staying exactly where she is while staring at the wall.
She is not planning to perform for these bastards. As much as she wants to show them that they can't mess with her family, she refuses to put on a show like some stupid show dog either.
⧏Previous⧐
Eris dresses Ettie like a doll, slipping the dress onto her, carefully sliding gloves along her arms. She leaves Ettie paralyzed on the floor when she’s done.
“I was already going to be hosting a sale tonight… but to think, someone of such a famous family would land right in my hands just days before. I should make it an auction, and see just how much some demons are willing to pay for a piece of you.”
She removes the metal cuffs, instead choosing the paralysis as a form of restraint. She goes back to her work on the tablet, paying Ettie no more mind.
——
A few minutes later, havoc returns, with a battery run drill and some bits of metal in her hand.
“I brought six, just in case.”
“Go ahead and put them in if you’d like. I know you like all the gorey stuff. You can dismiss the paralysis if you’d like.”
Havoc grins as she lifts Ettie’s arm, and compares the length of the bolt to the size of Ettie’s wrist.
“Happily, once I get her tied up.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie's face burns with anger and shame as she is slowly dressed up against her will. She can only watch, as if she were a mere spectator, a thing, and not the person, as she was treated like a toy. It was as if these demons were determined to bring her to her absolute lowest. Which they likely were. And they were succeeding.
She watched silently as the gloves were slipped on, and as she was left slumped across the floor. Her glare had weakened by the end of it, but it only grew in intensity when she mentioned her family and the auction. So she was just a dolled up piece of meat now, huh.
Perhaps returning to hell had always been her fate...
She tries to move her body in any way she possibly can once the cuffs are removed. But only briefly. She already knows there's no point. So she's just left there to lie on the floor like a discarded doll and wait for whatever would happen next.
...
Once Havoc arrives she looks up at her emptily, expression unreadable. Then her eyes widen when she sees the drill. Fucking hell.
She grunts in protest as her arm is lifted, staring at Havoc with apprehension and frustration. What NOW??
“Oh this is gonna be fun.”
Havoc ties her legs together, and sits on her arm, holding the other in one hand. She presses a finger to Ettie’s forehead, and the paralysis fades. She holds Ettie’s wrist in a vice grip, and brings the drill to the side of her forearm, towards the end of the bone just next to her wrist.
She makes sure Ettie can see where the drill bit is pointing, so she can watch it tear into her flesh, tunnel into her bone.
“How long is she going to have puppet strings?”
Eris glances up at the question, thinks for a second.
“A couple weeks maybe. Titanium is great because the bone will start growing into it, adhering. You sterilized everything with hellfire?”
“Yep. Not a germ here. Oh, wait.”
She sets down the drill, and takes something from her pocket. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, which she pours over Ettie’s wrist and the glove.
“Now we’re ready.”
Her breaths are becoming unsteady as Havoc restrains her. The moment the paralysis is gone she starts to struggle, her uneven breaths evident. "What are you- you psychopaths tryna do??" She hisses.
She feels her mouth dry up slightly at the sighs of where the drill will be going into. Fuck no fuck no FUCK no-
"The hell d'you mean puppet strings!?" She snaps, straining and struggling with renewed vigor. She does not like what it sounds like they're planning. She has to be wrong.
She struggles even harder, now enraged as she starts to realize what they have planned. "Don't you dare," she growls, though she sounds as if she's trying not to freak out. "Don't you FUCKING DARE! DONT TOUCH ME!"
Havoc rolls her eyes and pins Ettie’s wrist under a foot.
“Why’d you take the gag off, Eri?”
She reaches for it and buckles it around Ettie’s face, before patting her cheek and picking up her wrist again. It holds her chin up, forcing her mouth closed, and there’ll definitely be deep red marks across her cheeks from it later. Still, she’ll likely manage to get some sound out through it.
“There we go.”
She holds Ettie’s wrist in a vice grip, and lifts the drill, pressing the bit to Ettie’s skin before turning it on. To an electric drill, bone isn’t much different at all from very hard wood or shell, and that’s exactly what this titanium bit is meant for. The skin and flesh is nothing to it, and the bone is shaved away under it easily.
Havoc pulls the drill out when it’s gotten to the right depth, and lines up the bolt with the loop on the end, before she starts twisting it into the hole she’s just drilled. The drill bit is exactly right for the bolts, so that sharp threads on the bolt hold fast in her bone.
There’s no pulling it out without causing much more damage, and unscrewing it would be a long, painful process.
“Three more for today.”
She grits her teeth as she stares up at Havoc, squirming and glaring. She tries to shake her head to prevent her from putting the gag back on, but she is unsuccessful, and her furious screams are muffled behind the muzzle. She thrashes her head, glaring up at them with wide eyes as her wrist is picked back up.
No amount of yanking, of tugging and pulling and struggling, is able to release the demon's hold. And all Ettie can truly do is watch with wide eyes as the drill is placed against her flesh. It's cold.
An involuntary, albeit muffled scream tears itself out of her throat as the electric drill is activated, sending bits of flesh and blood flying, over her face and dress and gloves. But all she can see is white.
It takes her a few long moments to even notice that the drilling had stopped, and even more for her vision to clear. She thinks blood splashed into one of her eyes, and she blinks up at Havoc and sees the bolt sticking out of her messy, bloodied wrist. She can't even bring herself to react, staring blankly as blood slowly trickled down her wrist and spreading into the gloves.
“Damn it H, you’ve made a mess.”
“Nothing a little magic won’t take care of. Your spell to clean clothes, and heat up the bolts to cauterize everything. The little mousey will look- well. As cute as she can be for what you’re working with.”
Havoc steps on her forearm, and grabs her other wrist, not waiting for Eris to respond before she drills the second hole. This one’s just as quick, only taking a few seconds to drill and screw in the second bolt. She drops Ettie’s arm, lifting herself off her.
“Besides, the blood looks good.”
The screams that tear itself out of her throat are raw, hoarse, and animalistic. She isn't even aware anymore that she's making such noises. The pain is all she can focus on as she thrashes and screams and howls in pain as the second bit is drilled into her wrist. And even as it's finished she's left trembling and shaking on the floor, eyes wide and flicking around unseeingly, face splattered red with blood and bits of flesh.
She makes muffled noises behind the gag, although it's clear she isn't speaking. She seems to be in shock, and she is already becoming pale as her arms continue to bleed.
Havoc pats her cheek, and looks for some awareness on her face. Not enough to make trying to taunt her any fun.
She grabs some rope from the floor, and threads it through the loops on her wrists, and shoving Ettie onto her front. Once her arms are behind her back, Havoc pins down Ettie’s legs, and picks up the drill once more. She doesn’t waste any time with the last two bolts at Ettie’s ankles.
When they’re screwed in, Havoc stands, and heads over to the desk.
“There you go, she’s all ready for the party.”
“Why am I always the one cleaning up after everyone here? I should hire a janitor.”
Eris puts on a set of rings and stands over Ettie, waving her hand. The bolts grow warm for a second, then searing, burning her to the bone- cauterizing the bleeding. Another motion, and much of the blood disappears. There’s only a little blood right at the wounds, and a tasteful splatter left over.
Just enough blood to be presentable.
She lets out shaky exhales as her wrists are yanked behind her, the rope pulling at the bolts and aggravating the wounds even more. Her muffled cries resume as two more bolts are drilled into her ankles, as she strains and trembles. Her red eyes are unfocused and her movements are weak, as muffled noises permeate out of the the leather muzzle. Clearly, despite her continued attempts at resistance, she is in clear pain.
"Mmmm... mmm..."
Once the bolts begin to heat up again, her muffled gasps become more frantic again, as she involuntarily jerks and jolts, chest heaving as the wounds finally stop bleeding. She is left lying on the ground, arms still behind her back as she breathes shuddering breaths through her nose, the left half of her face pressed against the carpet. She is exhausted, and looks it, and she's allowing herself to disassociate from the moment for now.
She knows it's only going to get worse, after all.
“Would you carry her to the lounge?”
“Of course, I’d hate to see you doing any lifting. Wait, I take that back- you’d look great at a gym, with some weight sets.”
“Maybe sometime.”
Havoc throws Ettie over one shoulder, without untying her wrists, and heads out into the hall after Eris.
The lounge they bring her to is nicer than anything that most would expect to find in hell. Mahogany furniture with fine velvet cushioning, a tile floor and a few expensive looking rugs. Havoc sets her down on the coffee table, a stone top with some iron loops drilled in. Havoc retrieves some chains from a box under the table, and locks four short lengths of chain from the bolts on Ettie’s limbs to the loops on the table.
Eris goes over to the bar, fills a small glass with water and ice, and brings it to Ettie, unbuckling the gag.
“Drink.”
Ettie groans as she's lifted off the ground, every movement of her restraints pulling painfully at her flesh and bones. She lies slumped against Havoc as she's carried, trying to regain her composure.
She blearily lifts her head as they enter the lounge. It's difficult to make out, but she can tell that this is likely where the "party" will take place—and where she'll likely be spending the next few hours as these demons' entertainment.
She wonders briefly if Sam and Dean are even looking for her at this point.
Ettie is mostly dissociating as she's placed onto the table, so much that she only squirms a little as her arms and legs are attached to the corners of the table with the chains. The chains looped inside the bolts embedded into her bones quiver as her limbs tremble, and she shuts her eyes.
She opens her eyes again when the gag is unbuckled and pulled away, staring emptily at Eris. Instead of cooperating she simply closes her eyes again, too tired to care.
⧏Previous⧐
Eris dresses Ettie like a doll, slipping the dress onto her, carefully sliding gloves along her arms. She leaves Ettie paralyzed on the floor when she’s done.
“I was already going to be hosting a sale tonight… but to think, someone of such a famous family would land right in my hands just days before. I should make it an auction, and see just how much some demons are willing to pay for a piece of you.”
She removes the metal cuffs, instead choosing the paralysis as a form of restraint. She goes back to her work on the tablet, paying Ettie no more mind.
——
A few minutes later, havoc returns, with a battery run drill and some bits of metal in her hand.
“I brought six, just in case.”
“Go ahead and put them in if you’d like. I know you like all the gorey stuff. You can dismiss the paralysis if you’d like.”
Havoc grins as she lifts Ettie’s arm, and compares the length of the bolt to the size of Ettie’s wrist.
“Happily, once I get her tied up.”
@the-other-winchester
Ettie's face burns with anger and shame as she is slowly dressed up against her will. She can only watch, as if she were a mere spectator, a thing, and not the person, as she was treated like a toy. It was as if these demons were determined to bring her to her absolute lowest. Which they likely were. And they were succeeding.
She watched silently as the gloves were slipped on, and as she was left slumped across the floor. Her glare had weakened by the end of it, but it only grew in intensity when she mentioned her family and the auction. So she was just a dolled up piece of meat now, huh.
Perhaps returning to hell had always been her fate...
She tries to move her body in any way she possibly can once the cuffs are removed. But only briefly. She already knows there's no point. So she's just left there to lie on the floor like a discarded doll and wait for whatever would happen next.
...
Once Havoc arrives she looks up at her emptily, expression unreadable. Then her eyes widen when she sees the drill. Fucking hell.
She grunts in protest as her arm is lifted, staring at Havoc with apprehension and frustration. What NOW??
“Oh this is gonna be fun.”
Havoc ties her legs together, and sits on her arm, holding the other in one hand. She presses a finger to Ettie’s forehead, and the paralysis fades. She holds Ettie’s wrist in a vice grip, and brings the drill to the side of her forearm, towards the end of the bone just next to her wrist.
She makes sure Ettie can see where the drill bit is pointing, so she can watch it tear into her flesh, tunnel into her bone.
“How long is she going to have puppet strings?”
Eris glances up at the question, thinks for a second.
“A couple weeks maybe. Titanium is great because the bone will start growing into it, adhering. You sterilized everything with hellfire?”
“Yep. Not a germ here. Oh, wait.”
She sets down the drill, and takes something from her pocket. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, which she pours over Ettie’s wrist and the glove.
“Now we’re ready.”
Her breaths are becoming unsteady as Havoc restrains her. The moment the paralysis is gone she starts to struggle, her uneven breaths evident. "What are you- you psychopaths tryna do??" She hisses.
She feels her mouth dry up slightly at the sighs of where the drill will be going into. Fuck no fuck no FUCK no-
"The hell d'you mean puppet strings!?" She snaps, straining and struggling with renewed vigor. She does not like what it sounds like they're planning. She has to be wrong.
She struggles even harder, now enraged as she starts to realize what they have planned. "Don't you dare," she growls, though she sounds as if she's trying not to freak out. "Don't you FUCKING DARE! DONT TOUCH ME!"
Havoc rolls her eyes and pins Ettie’s wrist under a foot.
“Why’d you take the gag off, Eri?”
She reaches for it and buckles it around Ettie’s face, before patting her cheek and picking up her wrist again. It holds her chin up, forcing her mouth closed, and there’ll definitely be deep red marks across her cheeks from it later. Still, she’ll likely manage to get some sound out through it.
“There we go.”
She holds Ettie’s wrist in a vice grip, and lifts the drill, pressing the bit to Ettie’s skin before turning it on. To an electric drill, bone isn’t much different at all from very hard wood or shell, and that’s exactly what this titanium bit is meant for. The skin and flesh is nothing to it, and the bone is shaved away under it easily.
Havoc pulls the drill out when it’s gotten to the right depth, and lines up the bolt with the loop on the end, before she starts twisting it into the hole she’s just drilled. The drill bit is exactly right for the bolts, so that sharp threads on the bolt hold fast in her bone.
There’s no pulling it out without causing much more damage, and unscrewing it would be a long, painful process.
“Three more for today.”
She grits her teeth as she stares up at Havoc, squirming and glaring. She tries to shake her head to prevent her from putting the gag back on, but she is unsuccessful, and her furious screams are muffled behind the muzzle. She thrashes her head, glaring up at them with wide eyes as her wrist is picked back up.
No amount of yanking, of tugging and pulling and struggling, is able to release the demon's hold. And all Ettie can truly do is watch with wide eyes as the drill is placed against her flesh. It's cold.
An involuntary, albeit muffled scream tears itself out of her throat as the electric drill is activated, sending bits of flesh and blood flying, over her face and dress and gloves. But all she can see is white.
It takes her a few long moments to even notice that the drilling had stopped, and even more for her vision to clear. She thinks blood splashed into one of her eyes, and she blinks up at Havoc and sees the bolt sticking out of her messy, bloodied wrist. She can't even bring herself to react, staring blankly as blood slowly trickled down her wrist and spreading into the gloves.
“Damn it H, you’ve made a mess.”
“Nothing a little magic won’t take care of. Your spell to clean clothes, and heat up the bolts to cauterize everything. The little mousey will look- well. As cute as she can be for what you’re working with.”
Havoc steps on her forearm, and grabs her other wrist, not waiting for Eris to respond before she drills the second hole. This one’s just as quick, only taking a few seconds to drill and screw in the second bolt. She drops Ettie’s arm, lifting herself off her.
“Besides, the blood looks good.”
The screams that tear itself out of her throat are raw, hoarse, and animalistic. She isn't even aware anymore that she's making such noises. The pain is all she can focus on as she thrashes and screams and howls in pain as the second bit is drilled into her wrist. And even as it's finished she's left trembling and shaking on the floor, eyes wide and flicking around unseeingly, face splattered red with blood and bits of flesh.
She makes muffled noises behind the gag, although it's clear she isn't speaking. She seems to be in shock, and she is already becoming pale as her arms continue to bleed.
Havoc pats her cheek, and looks for some awareness on her face. Not enough to make trying to taunt her any fun.
She grabs some rope from the floor, and threads it through the loops on her wrists, and shoving Ettie onto her front. Once her arms are behind her back, Havoc pins down Ettie’s legs, and picks up the drill once more. She doesn’t waste any time with the last two bolts at Ettie’s ankles.
When they’re screwed in, Havoc stands, and heads over to the desk.
“There you go, she’s all ready for the party.”
“Why am I always the one cleaning up after everyone here? I should hire a janitor.”
Eris puts on a set of rings and stands over Ettie, waving her hand. The bolts grow warm for a second, then searing, burning her to the bone- cauterizing the bleeding. Another motion, and much of the blood disappears. There’s only a little blood right at the wounds, and a tasteful splatter left over.
Just enough blood to be presentable.
She lets out shaky exhales as her wrists are yanked behind her, the rope pulling at the bolts and aggravating the wounds even more. Her muffled cries resume as two more bolts are drilled into her ankles, as she strains and trembles. Her red eyes are unfocused and her movements are weak, as muffled noises permeate out of the the leather muzzle. Clearly, despite her continued attempts at resistance, she is in clear pain.
"Mmmm... mmm..."
Once the bolts begin to heat up again, her muffled gasps become more frantic again, as she involuntarily jerks and jolts, chest heaving as the wounds finally stop bleeding. She is left lying on the ground, arms still behind her back as she breathes shuddering breaths through her nose, the left half of her face pressed against the carpet. She is exhausted, and looks it, and she's allowing herself to disassociate from the moment for now.
She knows it's only going to get worse, after all.
