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

[unpocoloco]

Pain couldn't kill, but that didn't matter when they were both dead. Pain couldn't kill but an eternity of it could only be unbearable. He voices neither thought. He can't imagine not fearing it.

He looks from Liam's face to the handle of the knife. Hand trembling, he reaches out and takes it. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to do this. The thought becomes a mantra in his mind.

"What do I do?" He asks, obedient in lieu of any better ideas. "What do you want me to do?"

[endoftheuniverse]

The trembling hand isn't a great sign for either of them. There were things far worse than pain that Liam feared- cruelties so terrible he could not wholly imagine them- but he almost winces at the thought of a shaking hand stuttering to draw a cut down his back. "I want you to calm down, first of all," Liam orders him with a gentle but condescending authority. "Take a few deep breaths from your stomach. Fear is an amplifier for pain." He thinks it's rather typical for a human to feel sorry for themselves for hurting someone else, but he keeps that to himself.

Presuming Hector will take some time to do that, Liam shrugs his coat from his shoulders and pulls his shirt from his back, tossing them in a heap in the direction of the wall. This was not usually the circumstance in which he stripped willingly in front of other men, which might be funny if he were in the mood to be amused.

Now Liam wasn't stupid; there was no way that this man would listen to him if he read his scroll of sins, but something tells him that this sheep preferred obedience to defiance. Guessing it won't be a problem, giving Hector the illusion of control will serve Liam well, here: "Did you want to read my paper, or will you take my word for it?"

[unpocoloco]

"Okay," He manages. Barely. His breath shudders as he draws it deep. He keeps at it, trying to focus. He holds his hands close to his chest, even with the knife,as though his own pulse will steady him.

It does take time. And there certainly is a whole lot of feeling sorry for himself. But eventually, he thinks he's got it steady enough. He opens his eyes and swallows hard at the sight of the other man's back, knowing the task ahead.

It doesn't take him long to consider the question. His voice comes out small. "I trust you."

At least with this. He has to if he's going to be following instruction, doesn't he? He's glad Liam isn't looking at him anymore.

[endoftheuniverse]

Satisfied both by what Hector has said and how his voice has lost most of its quaver, Liam nods. He pulls his long, wavy blonde hair off of his back with one hand, drawing it over his right shoulder. He thinks, with a bit of regret, that it's a shame he's scarring valuable tattoo real estate just to console this guy. "I guarantee I can handle whatever you do to me, but it's better to be quick than not." He won't waste time here and tell him the specifics of how to hold the knife, or that superficial strokes were better than deep ones, hoping he can figure that much out. If he somehow couldn't... he supposed it didn't matter.

Well, then. Liam stands in front of a bare piece of wall, bracing his forearms against it - then leans forward, resting his forehead on his wrists, back arched towards Hector, but relaxed. He closes his eyes, taking a few slow, deep breaths, himself. "... There was a politician who was funded by slavers and lobbyists, who promised to enact laws that would allow industries to use slaves when working conditions were too dangerous for their regular staff. I assassinated him." He finishes his thought as though he were commenting on the weather, his soul not one ounce lighter for the confession. "Write that down." Assassination. That would be nothing short of a badge of honour.

[unpocoloco]

He nods his head and says, "Okay."

Go quick. He can... he'll try and do that. He's not hearing any special tricks though, nothing that makes this into the painless effort Liam promised. It just looks like a man determined he can tough out anything in the world, like a hundred other men, but never him.

And then the story begins. He freezes in place for a moment. It's not a shocking concept. Politicians were too often like that. He knows, without knowing the details or specifics, that terrible things became of many of his ancestors. He knows that some politicians wouldn't care the slightest bit what happened to him, not enough a Spaniard. He's not sure he can blame Liam too much for a crime like that. But, regardless, he knows that he is so, so very out of his depth. Between the lack of emotion and the blunt confession of murder, he lacks any idea what to say.

He takes the knife and brings it down. The first bloom of makes him falter, drawing back on instinct as the wound drips. He catches his own hesitation and quickly mumbles out an apology. He works on the rest of the letter, and the ones after that. He's not the one in pain, it's terrible to be blinking back tears, so he tries instead to ask, "Did it help? Did it make a difference?"

[endoftheuniverse]

It's been a very long time since a blade has met Liam's flesh. Bullets he remembers, but he is so far removed from the days of butterfly knives and brass knuckles that the sudden reminder of what it is like to be stabbed manages to surprise him. Buried in his arms and hair, his eyes snap open, though they see nothing but the white-hot pain. As the knife jitters, he sucks in a deep breath. Then he breathes out, long, slow and loudly, when it is pulled down again; the way Shaman taught him to handle suffering a decade ago. He reminds himself that this was not worse than neurotoxin - reminds himself that he shouldn't be dwelling on this. He has a dearth of happy memories, now, and even less that are not tainted by heartbreak, but he manages to conjure up the memory of a particular face, a particular friend. Tracing that memory over and over, like running a finger across stitchwork on cloth. Soaking pain into it and making another place he could not come back to.

There is no being quick with this word, but to have chosen any other would have damned him to this man, and petty crimes did not make for interesting scars. Eventually it is over and, wordlessly and gradually, Liam collects himself. He draws away from the wall tenderly, hair covering his face while he figures out how he's going to handle moving with this brand on his back. When he's sure he can speak without his voice breaking, he combs his hair back from his face with his fingers, turning towards Hector with a weak smile. He's gonna need him to bend down and get his clothes. He hadn't thought that part through.

"Mm. I guess we'll see." There is no energy left for judgment. He casts a glance towards the ceiling before catching Hector's gaze, ready to tell him what helped. Then his smile falls, surprised. For all that people hoped their almost-tears would not be noticed, it was never not obvious. "-Hey, what's wrong? I'm fine." The worst of it was done.

[unpocoloco]

Liam doesn't know. He must have performed the assassination and died soon after. Or maybe he's expecting something else. Maybe it's just that one could never tell the future. Everything cycles, that's what he was told once by the man the nuns told him not to speak to. Liam sounds at peace with his choice either way. He almost envies that.

He flinches like he might be struck or scolded for his weeping. Pitiful. Stupid. He can't take Liam's assurance. He shakes his head.

"I just carved into your back. We're in Hell and this is just the beginning . I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I did anyway. I don't... understand... I hurt you, that's not fine, even if it means we hurt less, even it's the better option, that's not..." His hand rises up. He means to cover his eyes but in doing so, he gets some of the blood he spilled smeared further on him.

"Oh god," He groans, and he all but throws that bloodied knife to the table in disgust. It clatters but doesn't fall off. He turns from it all, and Liam, pacing a moment. It takes a little bit for him to collect himself but when he does his voice is dull.

"My list is there. I don't care what you choose." He starts shaking off his charro jacket, then begins to work on the buttons of his own shirt. Better not to look. He's already ashamed enough.

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam's expression hardens as he listens to Hector fall apart, watches him come to terms with where they have found themselves. Just the beginning. Already this was more than he could take, and Liam realizes with a twist in his gut that he hadn't guided him carefully through this, but had led him to the precipice himself. He was beginning to understand that past a certain point, there was nothing to be done to improve things. Not proceeding nor ceasing, no kind nor harsh words - no matter what he chose now, nothing would help Hector. Liam stares hard after him, silent. Then he is given permission to move, and the only thing to do was to get this over with as fast as possible.

Fine. Liam starts for the table, casting a glance at Hector's sins with the intention to skim them - and then reading each in detail. It was more or less what he expected; sins accrued by an unremarkable human living an average life. Then, as though decisively, Liam reaches for the clean knife. Even knowing that he had done everything in the name of the greater good, there was such a difference between their crimes that it seemed almost unfair that Hector would suffer worse than he had.

Moving as quickly as he can with an open wound on his back, Liam approaches Hector, carrying the knife with the tip pointed away from him. He snags again on his disbelief that he cannot help. "Try to relax. Focus on a strong memory." It's too late for any of this, but he had to say something. Liam adjusts his grip so he has a fine control of the knife, fingers pinching the tip by the sides of the blade as though he were holding a pencil. "Okay. Let me know when you're ready, then."

[unpocoloco]

Once again he gets the sense he's let the other man down. This time, he doesn't have it in him to even think about making it better. He wonders what Liam would have preferred, had he not caved to him. Would he have ultimately stuck through with the lacerations all over? Or would he have eventually caved regardless? He was probably selfish, bringing Liam to sacrifice that choice for someone like him.

His jacket to the floor and his shirt following, he grips the last bit of undershirt and pulls it up over his head, dropping it down too. He's rail-thin but not particularly scarred. Old things from childhood or an occasional odd job in town, but nothing significant. It's just the fresh cuts that came from this room. He kneels down at that table, hands clasping as though in a too-late prayer.

He hears Liam's words. Relaxing isn't really coming to him, but he tries. He tries to pull a memory, he was lucky in that he had so many strong memories, but all he can see is one face, one smile, one pair of trenzas spinning with twirling steps. I'm sorry, He thinks. I'm so sorry. He swallows hard and says, "I'm ready."

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam places a gentle hand against the other man's back to get better control of what he's about to do, Hector's bony physique alarmingly apparent beneath Liam's athletic tone. He absent-mindedly wipes away blood with his thumb with all the restrained affection he gave in caring for the wounds on Abraham's back. This was unearthing memories he didn't want to revisit, and when that steel tip meets Hector's flesh, whatever Liam had been feeling mercifully evaporates into nothing. He completes his duty quickly and easily, having lived too long in a job that required him to turn himself off while he worked. Having become no different than Irving and Alexander and everyone else he had once claimed to hate.

LYING had been the easiest to write, with the straightest lines and the least amount of letters. At the very least, Hector seemed to have been honest with him, here.

When it's over, Liam has no tears for Hector. He slams the knife on the table with finality, hoping to signal that no more hurt would come to them. But Hector was right - this was just the beginning. This was untenable for anyone who wasn't already a monster. Liam stares down at the pairs of bloody knives, at a loss to explain what any of this had accomplished.

[unpocoloco]

His back tenses with the touch of Liam's hand and he has to remind himself again to try and relax. He's not sure how to do that and still brace himself. Even bracing, he flinches at the first pres of the blade. He clamps his jaw together, hands going out to grip the table as his back is sliced open. Even through the pain he can feel blood drip down his back.

Guilt and pain and strong memory. He sees a new face, a woman's, pained, his own hand brushing her hair back from her face and using his other hand to hold hers tight. So strong, so brave. And then the happiest day of his life...

He's not nearly so strong. He bites down on whimpers and cries out at least once. But an eternity and no time at all brings it to end, signaled so by the knife that clatters before him, startling him, covered in blood. His blood.

He sits still there for a moment more then slowly begins to move. He picks up Liam's shirt first with a shaking hand, lifting it up. Then he goes, walking stiffly, to pick up his own.

"Thank you," he just barely manages. "And I'm sorry." For being weak. For making them do this just to avoid pain. "If- if they let us out, maybe we can find some bandages." Or at least alcohol.

[endoftheuniverse]

Liam takes his shirt from Hector wordlessly- nearly snatching it for how fast he accepts it- and clothes himself without a word, embarrassed to have been so little help to him. Dark, wet stains bloom against the blue cloth, dyeing it a rich purple. He thinks to return the favour and help Hector get his clothes, but by the time the thought has crossed his mind, Hector is already bending down to get it. Liam winces sympathetically, and for a brief moment, worried blue eyes search Hector's face to assess his suffering. No, he's the one who should be sorry, it was his suggestion - but the words catch in his throat and stay there. Never in his short life has he ever apologized for anything and his tongue doesn't know how to do it.

All of this in the second before Hector speaks again - and dismantles Liam's concern in a word. As though winded, Liam takes a quick breath into his chest, paranoia seeping into him with it. We, as though they were doing anything together once this was over. What, exactly, made a sinner like him think that he'd want to go somewhere with him? Liam's gaze clouds over with suspicion as he assesses Hector's obvious ulterior motive. Perhaps this was his own fault - he'd allowed his empathy to get in the way, leaving himself open to be used. No matter how unremarkable Hector seemed, humans did not deserve the benefit of the doubt. What cinches his distrust is that this man seemed to expect him to tend to his wounds, now - Liam's throat dries and his gaze wholly retreats inward. Yes, he's rather outgrown caring for people who didn't deserve it.

There isn't any more time to work through what else Hector might want to wring from him when this is done. Only moments after Hector speaks does the door unlock, as though thrown open by an unseen host. Well, there was no reason to stick around, and no need to waste his breath responding to him. Putting himself between Hector and the door, he turns his back on the other man decisively and makes towards the exit. No, Hector, he has no intention of ever seeing you again. When he turns the corner to enter the hall without a glance back, he hopes he has made himself perfectly clear.

[unpocoloco]

It's hard not to flinch when the shirt is ripped away. It's harder still to look at Liam when he sees what's there, on the man's face. He can't tell what's running through Liam's head but he can see, once again, he's said something wrong. He can't think what. Maybe it's just him that's the problem.

His only answer is a back stained with blood-- his fault-- and silence as Liam disappears. He hugs his clothing to his chest, standing there feeling stupid, guilty, hurt, and a hundred other miserable things.

He's damned himself to Hell. He's made it through one little bit of torture, barely, with an eternity more ahead. He's not going to survive this. He's not going to make it and that's the point. Home is so, so far, lost on a choice he never should have made. This is it, he thinks, as the sob breaks and he's unable to push himself forward out of this room. This is forever.

He's terribly alone.