TEST DRIVE MEME #5

[penancemods]

ARRIVAL

You remember a dream.

Or maybe nightmare is more accurate.

It was full of hellfire nipping at your skin and a sensation of being pulled down no matter how much you struggle or cry for help. There's a voice that feels like it's coming from all around you at once. Contrasting with the nightmare unfolding around you, it's smooth as silk. It makes you want to listen with every bit of attention you can muster in the moment.

"Judgement has come upon you, but not to worry. It can still be undone."

The voice promises you redemption for your sins. It promises you a better life and everything you could ever want, if only you just stop struggling so much.

And so you do.


Everyone wakes up in the same room initially. The room is done up in red with a cushy bed, a window, an old TV in the corner on a desk, and a few Hieronymus Bosch paintings lining the wall. There's a bathroom to clean up in and any belongings will be sat around the room to be gathered later. There's a duffel bag provided for your convenience.

After feeling a sensation of falling or dropping onto the bed, characters wake up feeling like they've just slept for a week. Their body will feel heavy and stiff, they'll have a massive headache at first.

They'll quickly notice the list of their sins written with their blood on a bedside table on an old piece of parchment. This will mean the list is tied to them and can't be changed or tampered with. They'll also receive their device to connect with others and the network. It won't be anything terribly fancy. As a matter of fact, it looks like a very old Blackberry type phone.

Once characters are ready to leave the room, they'll head down long, winding halls. They're dimly lit and ominous feeling. They may encounter fellow sinners or demonic staff that will direct the newcomer down to the lobby to get their actual room key to settle in. They may be pushy, they may border on courteous. It really just depends on the mood of the staff at the time and how they're treated in return. Eventually, everyone comes to stairs that lead downward.



Once down to the lobby, you'll notice the front desk manned by a demon who looks bored out of its mind. To the side of him is the door to the kitchen where guests may help themselves. To the right is a small duty free shop that seems to have a surprisingly normal, expected stock of items. Look around a bit further, there will be a tiny bar tucked in through a corner door. It seems pretty well-stocked and best of all, self-serve if you want to get away from your demonic hosts for a bit. Of course there's some seating, bar games, and a jukebox tucked in the corner if you'd rather stay and socialize a bit.

Please note that all the songs on the jukebox are appropriately hell-themed. Hopefully Sympathy for the Devil is universally loved.

STAND YOUR GROUND

Prompt I

With the Mares leaving, the nightmares fade right along with them. Unfortunately, the hotel outside is looking rather worse for wear because of it. It's been pummeled, cracks in the siding and broken windows are everywhere. It looks much more befitting of the hellish landscape surrounding it, true, but Lucifer is already putting the demonic staff on repairs. They'll be enlisting the help of guests, whether they want to or not. Watch out when the whips and other punishments come out to play for those who seem to be slacking too hard.

The staff hardly has patience for it, whether the guests are feeling up to it or not. In truth, neither are the demons. Exhaustion is hanging heavy in the air for everyone.

But life must go on.

On the plus side, at least all the doorknobs and locks seem to be returning.

For current guests, they may now be dealing with a Frenzy come down and finding that they still itch for another fix. It won't be an easy ride. Withdrawals come with extreme fatigue, aches and pains, chills, depression, and an urge to potentially hurt yourself or others as agitation sets in. If asked for tips on dealing with it, the staff will tell the guests to just rest whenever they can, stay hydrated, and eat. The nausea that follows might make that difficult, but the staff seems to have very little time for sympathy at this point in time.

For new guests, they'll find things in quite a bit of disarray. Fortunately the demons are eager to hand out chores. They range from cleaning up broken glass and other items around the hotel, to removing boards from windows, to Hell beasts that need to be moved back from the basement to their enclosure just outside the hotel and helped to settle back in.

Anyone is free to visit any new beast friends they've made whenever they desire after this point. As a distraction, the hotel staff will even be offering riding lessons for larger beasts, both horse and canine-like ones.

Despite the push for normalcy though, there's a wariness in the air. Whether that's because of the recent bout with the Mares or the hushed whispers continuing on about the Veiled Order, it's uncertain. Something just feels off. Not to worry though, it's probably just paranoia creeping in. No one really wants to talk about it either way.

Every evening, once all the hard work is done, the staff seems to find the time to get a roaring fire going in the lobby fireplace and set up a buffet of food and drink for everyone to enjoy. There's every sort of food imaginable, and even some you wish you'd never seen. Spit-roasted dog, anyone? It's a delicacy here. There's also a lot of desserts of varying kinds from chocolates to ice cream to cakes and pies. Beer, coffee, sodas, and anything else people could want to drink is also on offer. There are even some specialty drinks for the vampiric guests around here.

There's entertainment as well. The demons are putting on makeshift plays and doing improv comedy routines, as well as dragging guests into the act if they seem interested. They'll ask them to perform tricks or act out Shakespearean scenes. For what it's worth, it does actually seem like everyone is trying to just have some fun. There's no harm in refusing to act anything out beyond some mostly good-natured booing and ribbing.

The succubi have also been given a room to set up for personal massages (with or without the happy ending). Massages are done in groups though, so you might want to rethink anything too frisky. If asked, the succubi will step aside and allow guests to massage each other instead, if that's more comfortable.

They're offering to help bathe and wash anyone who desires it for extra pampering, but most folks are understandably wary of the succubi and incubi around. No sexual play is actually being forced in these circumstances since, for once, the demons are well fed on sexual energy.

Oddly enough, the staff does seem to just genuinely want to do something refreshing. Although it's still probably clearly more for themselves than anyone else. Better enjoy it while it lasts though!

Prompt II

As another way to spoil (or distract) the guests a bit more, a new location has been brought to life!

Lucifer has insisted upon a movie theatre. It's located a short walk from the hotel. It's impossible to miss as the sign flickers and it's surrounded by a few very broken down, abandoned buildings still.

Outside, it looks like an old classic establishment from a time long since passed, but it has all the modern conveniences inside at least. From plush seats that recline and maybe get a bit too into giving a massage to all the treats you could ask for. So grab yourself some popcorn, a soda, hot dogs, or whatever else you want. There's also alcoholic beverages available for those who really need help getting through a movie.



Currently, the theatre is showing: Bedazzled, Manos: The Hands of Fate, Captain America (1990 version), Troll 2.

But there are request slips to be filled out by sinners if there's another movie they'd like to see when they rotate films around each month.

Located within the theatre is an arcade with zombie-themed shooter games, Pac-Man, motorcycle racing, and claw machines. There are also a few other gaming machines and one that's supposed to test romantic compatibility between couples. See if you're truly meant to be!

REACH UP HIGH

Prompt I
Warnings: cutting, blood, torture.

Whether you've been here for months or you're freshly arrived, your demonic overlord expects some participation. You can try and shirk the responsibility, of course. You can bargain your way out of it for a while. But eventually, you may find yourself trapped in a room just off the gym that's been fondly dubbed the torture room. It has all manner of equipment in there, along with an iron maiden even.

But don't worry about any of that right now. It probably won't be used.

You can try the door, but even with super human strength or every lock picking skill in the book, you won't be able to open it.

It soon becomes apparent what you're supposed to do soon enough when someone else is eventually shoved in with you. Both of your lists of sins will appear on a table that's been placed in the center of the room with two handy knives. You can choose to guard these or not care at all that they're on display.

"Know that honesty is a good place to start on your road to redemption. Sure, it can be terrifying at first, but that's why you've been given a partner in this journey. Pick up your knives and carve at least one sin into each other's flesh. Help in the journey to be candid with everyone you should meet here!"

The voice echoes all around you again, just like in the nightmare, and once again there's the pull to give in. This voice really does seem like it has your best interests at heart.

"If you need a bit of encouragement, we'll be giving it shortly."

It isn't a lie or idle threat either. The longer you wait to do what's been requested of you, the more shallow cuts that will appear on both of your bodies. Are you really prepared to endure this pain when giving in would be so much easier?

And more than that, are you willing to let another suffer along with you?

Eventually, the cuts will stop if you suffer them long enough, but you'll have failed this challenge and sustained more damage than if you'd just gone along with it. Satan will also be very disappointed in you.

Prompt II

"Offering one another counsel is a trait God rather admires. Compassion, goodwill... all of that. He has requested a demonstration that all of you are complying with your redemption, so I thought of a rather interesting way to show him." Lucifer's voice rings out warm and almost affectionate as he speaks within the guests' heads, the sound ringing within their skulls and beckoning them to trust him.

Even as demons grab at guests and haul them into a room only to lock the door. As usual, the doors can't be opened through any means guests will be able to perform. At least the room is cozy looking, with a plush couch and chairs.

"I must say that I'm proud of all of you. What I ask, I have no doubt that you will accomplish. Please, both of you have a seat and discuss anything from a bad memory, a fear, or even a silly little phobia you may not be proud of. Listen to each other, help one another as I know you can."

That's right. Guests are expected to share a bit about themselves, whether it's a trauma or a past sin they feel guilty for. Maybe it's even something as simple as an irrational fear of spiders... as long as it's sincere, it counts. Guests must absolutely share something if they don't want to be punished. They'll also have to provide sympathy or counsel.

If no one speaks, there's always a catch. The longer one of the participants refuses to speak of anything real, or lies, the more a headache will start to set in. Guests will feel a slight throbbing in the temples that grows steadily worse until it's almost blinding. Gradually, blood will start oozing from eyes, nose, and ears.

All of it will stop the minute guests comply and play along.

It is possible to wait out the punishment if guests are willing to let each other suffer for it, but this will be considered a failed challenge and Lucifer will have to rethink all that pride he said he had.

FOLLOW ME DOWN

Prompt I
Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, potential non-con/dub-con, kinks.

Those newly arrived to Hell will hear about a drug called Frenzy. The effects of which include the lack of a need to sleep for as long as one uses it, feeling like the best version of oneself, and feeling better than they possibly ever have. It may even get to the point where pain is minimized or even welcomed as a pleasurable experience.

The downsides of the drug include giving into a frenzy of one's basest instincts, whether it's lust or anger or anything else that they're naturally inclined towards.

This drug will be offered at the club outside the hotel, but the succubi who make it will demand payment up front this time. This can come in the form of keeping the club up and cleaned, serving guests, or performing on stage. It may also include sex with the demons or other patrons, or putting on solo performances for an audience. The succubi won't particularly care how willing guests are when they come to demand their payment and may force it.

Some will tell you that it's absolutely worth the price though, especially down in Hell where there's so much pain already. What's wrong with a little bit of escape, really? Others will tell you to stay far away from it all.

Of course the demons fail to mention it has the potential to be addictive, but users will probably figure that out on their own once they've come down. It isn't their fault if no one did their research!

Beyond Frenzy, the club also offers a variety of drinks and aphrodisiac-laced foods. There are poles for dancing, plush couches throughout as well as more private tables. There are stages where sex machines are set up, as well as other areas to tie up volunteers or to set up any other type of play imaginable. There are private rooms that can be rented out for the night for those who really want to explore their desires.

Attractive succubi and incubi roam the club as staff or active participants. Some will become more forceful if they're hungry, others will gladly offer any sort of temptations they can.

Careful if you ever see through a their pretty illusion and see the old, angry crones they really are though. It's a bit hard to forget that.

Regular demons also frequent the club, ranging in looks from tiny, mischief-making goblins to goat-like beasts to more humanoid types. There may even be tentacled-beasts who may not be the best at conversation, but will be eager to participate any play they're invited to.

There's a dance floor and loud music pumping through the club in a dedicated space for those who'd rather just dance the night away safely detached from the sexual side of things. All manner of drugs will be offered for those who ask staff, not just Frenzy.

Prompt II
Warnings: Potential violence and abuse.
There are hooded figures making their way through the hotel, but it's oddly hard to focus on them. The more guests try, the more their attention wants to drift to anything else.

For those magically inclined, they may notice the hint of a spell or black magic, but it's just as easily forgotten as everything else.

Guests won't even notice when the figure brushes against them, a skeletal hand adorned with gold brushing over any exposed skin they can reach with a whisper light touch.

It's an encounter that's so easily written off as guests continue on with their day, it really isn't worth mentioning at all later.

But ever since it happened, it feels like there's a poison that's entered the guest's system, twisting around their insides until they feel almost hollowed out. It's a whisper in the ear, inspiring envious feelings towards their fellow guests and the local demons that may never have been there before.

Why do they have it so easy? Why do they have fewer sins and why do more people love them than they do you? Why are you so unimportant to them? Why does everything come so easily to them when you have to work so hard for it?

Envy doesn't have to make any rational sense at all. It can happen at the most inopportune times and leave one feeling like they're burning up from the inside at the injustice of it all.

Even if it's someone a guest generally likes or gets along with, they'll feel this nasty little sensation creeping in.

Rage replaces the envy eventually. The anger starts to become overwhelming. After all, you're the one who is truly worthy of all the attention, all the adoration, all the things they've got. Other people are merely foolish for not realizing it.

Or perhaps it's not even envy at what the other guy has. Perhaps it's because the guest craves all the attention and all the affection of this other person. The guest may never have sought love or possession before, but suddenly it's all they seem to crave from this one person. They'll do anything to have it or to become as close to one person as possible.

Doesn't it eventually just make you want to hurt them for it all? Whether verbally or physically, guests will be drawn to action, or even force if they must. They will desire to either claim what they want or make the other admit to never having deserved it.

Alternatively, guests may also be reduced to begging to be noticed by the object of their envy, desperate enough to do anything to get what they feel is rightfully theirs.

This influence will be hard to fight off, but stronger guests will be able to fend off the envious effects of the mysterious demons. Others won't be so lucky.

MISC.
Thanks for joining us for our fifth test drive meme, sinners! Reserves are now open for the upcoming app round on September 1st

If you want to speak with Lucifer, you're free to text or pray to him right here.

If you have questions, comments, suggestions, etc., go here.


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Comments

Héctor | Coco | OTA | cw: altered mental states, probably eventually blood, Major Movie Spoilers

[unpocoloco]

Arrival + Stand Your Ground I

He feels as though he's been scraped raw, inside and out. A nightmare of fire on his flesh and another before where he felt that burning and sickness in his guts. His head aches bad enough that he wonders if he actually did blackout and crack his head. One touch to his front teeth confirms that. He's missing one. He got sick as hell, dreamt of it, and the headache is from crashing down into the dirt road hard enough to knock a tooth out. That meant Ernesto should be nearby.

"Nnn- Nesto...? Ernesto?" With a groan he sits up and he knows then that something's wrong. A single bed, but that's not the problem-- they were a pair of músicos on the road, it wasn't pleasant but it saved them money to share. No, it's the rest of the room that's the problem.

In all the months he'd been on tour, the hotels all bleeding together in his mind, this is the first one he'd been sure he was entirely new to. No sensible place would put up, in a guest room, such a blatant depiction of hell. Red decor, that, he didn't need to see the note in order for the shiver to run down his spine, but there it is. Lying, theft, con-artistry, indulgence in impure substances, neglect of prayer and church attendance... okay so he wasn't a saint, but most of those were one-off things, and some were plain untrue. He doesn't recall turning a blind eye to anything. There were worse sins besides.

But there is a worse sin there on the list. It's enough to fill his heart with dread, making it sink under the heavy weight of it. Abandoned wife and child. It's there, written in blood. Even as he hears himself moan with fear, "No... no, no, no..."

He makes it to the hall, heart racing. Down to the lobby where-- "Madre de Dios...!"-- a monster, a demon, a hallucination surely, sits. He rushes past, out the door, praying now of all times for mercy. The hellfire reflects back in his wide eyes.

He stares, numb with horror, right up until another demon grips his wrist (causing him to cry out) and shoves a broom into his hand. He's told to get sweeping, and almost as though in thanks for not being stabbed with the broom, he stumbles over to do so. Badly.

Reach Up High I

He wishes he'd thought to beg and bargain before being shoved and locked in the room. He would have, unquestionably, but it wasn't until the door was closed and locked that he'd really seen what was in there. He mutters, Ay Dios, ay Santa Maria... but for the moment, any actual prayer escapes him. He grew up with nuns, how could he forget, he asks himself, but his panic continues to hide it all away.

And then someone else is shoved in. The papers appear, bringing the urge to snatch his back and hide it away. Then come the knives. And then the voice. His stomach turns and he looks up to meet the eyes of the one who's joined him.

"... Hola," He croaks in a voice that doesn't sound like his own.

Follow Me Down II

His guitar came with him to this... place. Somehow. His guitar, and some other things, including a change of clothes out of the charro suit. It was a miserable reminder but a relief all the same. At least there was still music in hell. The thought regularly summons all manner of thing between a laugh and a sob.

In any other place, a brush with a figure like that wouldn't go unnoticed, but here there are worse things. He doesn't even notice the difference really. He already feels worn down, hollowed, depleted. But eventually, it takes him like a fever. Anyone reaching for the jukebox is stopped as he frantically begins to plead.

"Let me play for you, I can do much better for you than that old thing! You'll listen to me won't you? Please, anything you want! Just a little while! A bit of your time, please--"

Anyone dodging around or passing by is met with the same persistence.

"Wait! Wait! Don't go! Let me play for you! I can write you a song! You'll like that, right? Please, just stay for a moment, don't walk away..." His voice cracks in his frenzy, a desperate smile plastered on that sits just shy of a pained grimace.

[styxtoshadows]

Styx is deep in the throes of envy when he gets stopped by the miserable guy with the guitar. The goblin tries dodging around him with no luck. Maybe it's his short legs.

"You're...what? Some kind of bard?" He backs up a little, feeling like he's in the presence of a madman. "What have you got to cry about anyway, here surrounded by your own kind, always getting things your own way human? Ugh, even the fucking chairs here were made for you."

[unpocoloco]

"No, no," He babbles. "I don't belong here. I'm sure it's a mistake. I'm going home."

But right now home is far and those thoughts feel just as distant. He needs someone to listen to him, anyone. Is this a demon too? Does it matter? No, he just needs someone to see him. No one's listening to him. Why isn't anyone listening to him?

He fills the space that was just made, babbling on, "You want a chair? I could make you a chair!" He's never made a chair in his life. "Would that make you happy? Maybe I can just... grab one of these and cut the legs down... what's your name? Do you have a knife? I could carve it in for you! Whatever you want!"

[styxtoshadows]

Now he's just too confused to be envious.

"I don't want a chair, what are you gonna just carve one here and now? ...let me guess, you took too much of that Frenzy stuff. I bet they gave you more because you're human huh?" A brief scowl.

"Also you can't have my knife. It's not for carving."

[unpocoloco]

"I don't know, I figured I could try and-- wait, what? What Frenzy stuff?" He blinks, confused. "I don't want any of that. Do I? Do you think that would help make people listen to me? I suppose I could try it." Whatever it is. It doesn't sound too great, but who knows.

His thoughts jump. That's for others, this is now. He needs to hold this guy's attention. If he doesn't, he's sure he'll cave in on himself or something to that nature.

"So it's like a butter knife, huh? Weird to carry around. But I'm sure there's something real around here somewhere. It's Hell, right?" His voice cracks again, a high strained laugh following.

[styxtoshadows]

"You know...the drug...?" He waves a hand around as if that will convey meaning. "Honestly? I don't think it'll make a difference right now buddy. You're already acting like you're on it."

"It's not a butter kni- !" he cuts himself off. Weird. He feels more annoyed than he ought to be.

"Sure, sure there's a closet full of the things." But does he want this guy around him with a sharp knife?

[unpocoloco]

"Oh, no, I'm not on that. That would be pretty disappointing as a drug, cause you know, ha, I kind of feel terrible if I'm being honest!" There's a little slip of something hysterical. "But no big deal, no big deal, I can still manage this!" He continues to babble, ignoring the comment of the butter knife, or perhaps just straight up missing it. He starts for what looks like a closet and yanks it open. Only to be disappointed to find nothing but standard hotel cleaning supplies and a few not standard... things that will haunt his nightmares.

He spins fast, going to grasp the goblin's shirt front. "You! You can help me find it right! Yes! Wait. You didn't want a chair. What do you want? I can do it for you! Anything! Just want a little of your time that's all..." And the next person's, and maybe someone else will show, maybe this whole hotel will listen to him if they just give him a chance.

[styxtoshadows]

Depending on how low the man crouches and how much he lifts, Styx might be in danger of being lifted off the ground by his shirt. How humiliating for an assassin. He grabs the man's arm and gives him a steady, irritated look. The other arm reaches for the knife but he's pretty sure he's not going to need it.

"Anything? Then let me go."

"And what on earth do you want?" Nobody's that helpful. What's the catch?

"If you think I can give you absolution you're wrong. I don't even work here."

[unpocoloco]

He's a very tall man and somewhat overeager at the moment. Sorry, Styx, there might be some momentary lifting off the ground there.

At the very least, the moment he's asked to, he drops the guy. He hovers, realizing he may have been a little fast.

"You- you don't?" But he doesn't look... He shakes his head. "That's okay! I want--" He looks confused then. "I want..." He wants to go home, to see his girl. He wants people to look at him, to hear him play, to care about him, please, just a little. Both wants are so powerful they strike to the core, fill him with a fever, but they're different kinds both of them. One of those he woke with, has woken with for the past few months before he was here. The other... the other had been a fantasy, one that had come to taste like ash until... until a few hours ago.

He groans and rubs at his eyes with his hand. "Ugh. Maybe I have been drugged, like you said. But why would anyone do that? I don't remember having anything." He wasn't a drugs guy, more a drinks guy. And not even that much. He liked the stuff but he was more than capable of putting down a bottle. He babbles again, "It just isn't fair. Why am I here? I wasn't that bad, there were way worse guys out there. There were worse people. They aren't here. Everyone loved them. Everyone loved all these horrible people but not me, I don't understand, how many songs do I have to play-- AH! IT'S THIS PLACE! IT'S GETTING IN MY HEAD!"

Reach Up High I

[endoftheuniverse]

A sentence of eternal damnation hadn't been surprising so much as the shock of discovering the old world Gods were real. Liam does not care what he's been charged with, nor does he believe he has anything to repent for, though he does notice an unmistakeable urge to go through the motions to get this over with faster. He did not fear pain, nor eternal torture. If that was what it took to set the future on the right path, he would burn in hell for all eternity, the universe's last great martyr.

Liam does not go into the room without a struggle, though; the mere principle of being forced to do something stirring up a fiery defiance in him. Thrown unceremoniously in behind Hector, Liam has no prayers for any Gods on his lips. He straightens himself out, smooths back his long hair until it's out of his face, and stares cooly at the locked door, much too proud to beg or plead. Then he turns, blue eyes flicking to the table without reading the charges- already intimately acquainted with his own: genocide, terrorism, insurrection and a laundry list of misdemeanors from a time gone by- then over to the other man in the room.

This was Hell. There was very little chance that the man in the room was a good person, and Liam's sympathy for humankind had exhausted itself. That aside, he was no monster, and took no pleasure in being outwardly hostile to someone who didn't deserve it. There was no satisfaction or virtue in carving up anyone's flesh for sport, especially not when it had been demanded of them. He simply would not be told what to do.

Liam locks eyes with the other man in the room, his warmth reserved and tentative, but not entirely absent. His posture relaxes, and he holds a hand out to help his cellmate to his feet. "...Hey." Fuck, what was there to say? "Get up. I'm not going to hurt you."

[unpocoloco]

He doesn't know what to believe here. It's not his nature to be distrusting. He's aware he's in hell-- He's in hell, he's in hell, the horror of that doesn't stop-- and he's aware of the kind of people that would be here. But, he's also aware that he's here. Apparently, he wasn't a good person, but... he wasn't a murderer or the sort to attack people. Maybe there were actually decent people in here. Just not decent enough to not be here.

Well, he's going to find out shortly. Either he works things out with this guy or... or something terrible happens. Here's to eternity then.

Swallowing hard, he reaches up, taking that extended hand with a slight tremble in his own. He rises and lets himself be helped along, letting go once he's on his feet. It's the first bit of kindness he's found here and all at once he's overwhelmed with that.

"Gracias," He says, voice choked. He hugs his arms to his chest then. "I... I don't want to hurt you either." But he's not so stupid that he thinks they're getting out of this scot-free.

His eyes dart to the papers, then away. He doesn't want to know. "...I was going to ask how much time you think we have before that encouragement thing but I guess eternity sort of makes the whole time thing moot."

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam's grip is firm and supportive, and he smiles ever-so-slightly as Hector finds his feet - the capacity for gratitude in spite of their circumstances is a good sign. But the difference between don't want to and won't is small but distinct, and his smile disappears quicker than it surfaced. He watches him cautiously a moment, and the instant after Hector decides not to read his charges, shrugs, deflecting his gaze to glance at the door again. "What does it matter? I'm not going through with this."

He takes a few steps back, projecting his voice as though to address an audience, gesturing casually about the room. "What does any of this achieve? It doesn't make what we've done disappear. So why should we do it?" It's not a question so much as a leading comment. But before Hector can get in an argument, Liam clarifies one thing: "And I don't buy that bullshit about repentance. Suffering doesn't make people sorry." He glances up, as though to find a camera, even knowing that the Gods did not need such a thing.

[unpocoloco]

He doesn't know what he did, only that the man went from smiling to not in no time at all and that he must have done something wrong for that. No kidding, doing something wrong in Hell, but he feels guilty all the same.

The firm refusal has him blink. He hadn't thought of it like that. He almost feels bolstered in turn, but when the man speaks to the room, he flinches back as though that alone will summon retribution. He doesn't have the nerve to voice the arguments in his head besides. He looks up too, but only in fear, and not for long.

"I just... want to hurt as little as possible right now," He admits, voice quiet with shame. "I can hardly think about eternity. Not here. If I deserve this then that's that. But if this is Hell then hurting as little as we can is the only mercy we have. I don't know what else to do."

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam had hoped he could get this man on board with his principles- even so much as an acknowledgement that he was right would have been enough- but is quickly disappointed. This man was a coward; no different than any other human who upheld the status quo to take the path of least resistance. Expression blanking, Liam drops his arms to his side limply.

"So... what's the problem, then?" As though Hector had drawn one of the knives on him, his voice takes on a combative edge. "I already told you I'm not going to hurt you." Though apparently this man wouldn't afford him the same courtesy - not that Liam really cared about pain. "Are you that worried about what they're going to do next? Because if you actually want to do this, whatever, man." He shrugs passive-aggressively, tilting his chin to peer down at Hector as though he were a stain on the carpet. So much for showing the Gods they weren't their playthings.

[unpocoloco]

The sudden hostility has him flinch back. He was always the sort to get jumpy but it occurs now that the automatic fear isn't unwarranted. They're in Hell. Maybe he should have looked to see what for after all.

Then again, does it matter? He's going to hurt here anyway.

He shakes his head. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to do this at all. But he lets himself be shamed, shrinking in on himself and rubbing at his arm. He's a coward, it said so on his paper. He'd take the easiest way out no matter what.

He might have been about to speak, or maybe he was fooling himself, but any words that might have been die out as the first slash goes across his cheek. He yelps in surprise and reaches up, fingers coming away bloody. The next cut slashes into his arm. He hisses and stifles anything more pathetic. Just barely. Ah, he thinks, so this is how it will happen.

He doesn't look at Liam, instead walking off to sink down against a wall.

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam knows at once that he's overdone it, may have sent someone to an unfair fate. Liam, himself, hisses low as a fresh cut blooms across his own cheek. It wasn't the worst he'd felt by far, but it wasn't pleasant - and for a person who hadn't built up a tolerance for suffering, it may well have been unbearable.

The heaviness of his guilt begins to pool in his stomach; collects with the guilt of a million other regrets. Another unnecessary victim. More blood on hands he'd once diligently kept clean. Was there a point to playing a hero when doing so accomplished nothing good? The Gods were probably getting a kick out of this, anyway. He could be selfish and keep his principles, or he could do the right thing. It's that thought that pushes him forward, as it always has.

"Wait."

Liam calls after him firmly, taking a few steps towards him. Damn him and his empathy for his own species. If only he could close his heart off to their universe.

"My name is Liam." He tries very hard to draw himself outside of the well of his anger, and though his voice shakes with the last of his frustration, it also softens - even as an invisible blade carves itself across his forearm. "I'm used to this. I'm not afraid of pain. But you're a civilian, right?"

[unpocoloco]

He stops, turning. He inches his head higher and forces himself to look at the other man. Even if he's pulling his arms close to him. For a long moment he's silent.

"... Héctor," He croaks. "I'm Héctor." He doesn't say it's nice to meet him. He's not sure that it is, and that's not necessarily by fauly of Liam. Another hiss comes, fainter, as another cut appears-- despite clothing hiding it all. He tries not to let it show more than that and wincing.

I'm used to this. What a horrifying thought, to be used to anything remotely like this. He swallows hard.

"I- I never joined the revolucionarios. Or the federales, if that's what you mean. I'm not a soldier." He supposes that makes him a civilian.

RUH I

[unreconciled]

Andrej doesn't look well; he's pale enough to begin with, but here in the aftermath of the nightmares, to say nothing of what happened during his experiences with Frenzy... his hand shakes a little, clutching the edge of the table. He can't quite meet Hector's eyes, because some of the sins on the list of his own, right there in plain sight, are a little too immediate in memory.

"Greetings," he can only say, because the typical 'good-greeting' of Jurisdiction standard... well, there is nothing good about it. "I am sorry to have to say it, but this is not the first time of this, for myself. We should be done with it, as quickly as we can."

[unpocoloco]

It should be a relief, not being stuck with someone too obviously a murderer or something like it. But the man looks broken. He's under no illusion he'll last longer. It's enough to make him pale without what is said.

"They do this more than once?" He blurts, like an idiot, because of course they do. This is Hell. Not a game, not a vacation, torture. Eternally. He swallows hard, then reaches for his own list.

"...We could do the smallest one on each of ours. The least amount of... of strokes. They didn't say we have to do more." As if that helps.

[unreconciled]

"It was the initial trial, when first I was delivered here," Andrej remarks quietly.

Not obviously a murderer, no, but the list of his sins is sitting there on the table with it there at the top. Going down the list is an unpleasant read, one Andrej has clearly given up on trying to hide. His pale eyes glance over at it once and the shortest one there.

Sounding a little faint, ill and overwhelmed, he suggests, "If your hand is steady enough, a couple strokes more will make little difference, for myself. And there is the issue of where to have it written."

[unpocoloco]

He's not going to make it. That whisper of thought works in and settles like a stone. He's not going to make it. This is just the beginning.

He reaches for the list, trading out his own, reading it and sucking a sharp at what he sees here. He wishes he could just not react to these things. He's in Hell and these are the people that come here. Acting surprised is just going to make him an easy target.

"M-my hands are pretty steady but... I've never... I'm a musician, I don't do things with knives so much. I... I could do... pride?" It's not the shortest on the list, but carving that into someone, even as that little voice before whispers that it would be deserved for what it is, he just doesn't think he can do that. "I don't know what spot would be less painful."

[unreconciled]

"That is the one already done," Andrej notes, sparing Hector's own list a look, a flush of shame passing over him at the lists by comparison. At least this was someone who had some hope of redemption, perhaps. The whole thing is shameful, really, to be forced to inscribe, and bear these words. But the penalty for not doing so is worse.

"...Wrath, perhaps, as it is mostly straight lines," he says, trying to be practical. He lifts one of his hands from the table, trying to will it it be still, to not shake so from the withdrawal of the drug he had gone so mad on. "I am sorry, that I am in such a state. Even so, I should try to go as lightly as possible, with whichever one you can bear. There are places that it would hurt less, over thickness of muscle rather than near the bone -- shoulder, or back."

[unpocoloco]

He winces. Then with the new suggestion, nods. He can't believe he's agreeing to this. But there's no choice.

It hadn't even occurred that the other man's hands lacked steadiness. Not until it's pointed out. He shakes his head, placing the list back down with his own.

"It's okay," He lies. "On the back is fine. Call me a liar or a thief." He slips off the jacket of his charro suit, leaving it to drop on the floor. It was a favorite, a precious thing once, but it's hard to appreciate anything in a place like this. He slips off the bow scarf and starts on buttons.

"Would you prefer the shoulder or the back? How do you usually sleep?" His voice wavers.

[unreconciled]

Even for all that he made the suggestion himself, the first was bad enough, but is his body to be covered by the end of his time here, Andrej wonders to himself, horrified at the thought. He swallows, undoing the clasps on his jacket as well, followed by the underblouse, fancy cuffs and all.

"The first was the back, but... well. It should be easier, I suppose." His own voice isn't exactly strong and steady either. But in comparison to past events, it should be easier in terms of the pain, at least. There's obvious signs of past suffering marked on Andrej's skin once more is shown; pock-marks from where insects had burrowed under the skin, and old, fading bruises from a savage beating of some kind.

There were some here that Andrej wouldn't trust one whit with a knife, but at least here with Hector, he had fewer immediate concerns... and was well aware that, after seeing that list, his fellow sinner probably was a lot more worried about Andrej himself.

"As for who is to go first, I will defer to your feeling on the matter," he demurs.

[unpocoloco]

He does his best not to doubletake too obviously at the scars. People got hurt and he understood that. But these scars held a promise. This will be him someday. That someday might be soon. His stomach turns.

He sits in silence with that question. It's not a hard choice. The hard part comes with vocalizing and acknowledging that he's about to carve a man up.

"I'll have steadier hands if I do yours first. We can make it hurt as little as possible." And maybe, if he feels even more like he deserves it, being carved into himself will be more bearable.

He tries to keep that steadiness as he reaches for the knife. He gets up and circles around. "Are you ready?"