[ there's no reply because now? now he's coming for you.
and here he is in a puff of smoke, eyes bright and blazing and very, very unamused. ]
What did I fucking say. [ smoke rolls off of his shoulders, out from between his lips. he looks Harry over, smirking. ] You need to learn how to take orders, short bus. First order of business- [ and now the lab is entirely dark, as if it never existed in the first place. ] Do you know how to stand still?
[Harry jumps at the sudden puff of smoke. There's no way to hide how the sudden presence of Kirk in the room sends vibrations through his senses. Something darker than the power dripping through the tattoo, something infinitely more evil. He glances over at Kirk innocently enough, but part of him still remembers the true self he'd seen of the captain. Distorted, twisted faces. Teeth where there shouldn't be.
He quietly tucks away the rational part of him that is quietly screaming at the memory of the void room, leaving his expression calm and unassuming. Like he has no idea what's about to happen. It must be a birthday party!]
I can take orders. [Harry responds obediently in that dead voice, forcing himself to not look around at the encroaching darkness that eats through everything. At the second question he straightens, forcing his body as still as he can manage. If he's good, he'll get a wire. Those are the rules.] Yes, I do.
[ there are wires creeping under Harry's feet; caressing up and under any clothing. hello, ankles. you're lovely. hello, toes. how nice is this? it's even nicer when they start to worm their way into the skin, lacing through over and over again, as if stitching his feet to the floor. shoes are no obstacle: they get sewn tight against Harry's skin and to the tiles as well. ]
How's that feel. [ he cocks his head, smiling. ] Tight enough? Or tighter? [ and the wires press in a little deeper. ]
[Oh those wires don't feel too unpleasant. They're almost gentle, but he thinks he knows what might happen. He answered a question, he'll get a wire. As they slide underneath his skin, a familiar burst of pain slices through him, but then they go into the floor, the wires sink into the tile and Harry comprehends in a second just how much trouble he might be in. And not just with Kirk.
But the pain is so nice, so familiar, even if it's not as clean as the doctor's version. This one is messier, wires tearing through tendon and muscle and cracking through bone. Like a blade of grass growing up between two slabs of concrete, the wires cut through his feet and hold him there. Each wave of pain is more intense than the last, the delightful pain quickly turning into something uncomfortable and then--- he sags back against the floor, his hands bracing him as the wires crack and break another bone in his feet. A muffled groan slides from his mouth as he tries to hold it in, tries to brighten it into something appreciative. He's supposed to like this.]
Family. [His voice is tight, his fingers shaking against the tile as pain washes through him with each throb of his heartbeat. And then the wires get tighter and his world goes white for a second. He's not sure if he's screaming or if it's just his imagination.]
[ he fashions himself a little step of wires, to reach Harry's face and look him straight in the eyes. ]
Listen up, short bus. The next time I tell you to walk the fuck away? Do it. [ he smiles, holding one finger in front of Harry's face. see? finger. he trails the fingertip over Harry's lips, gently, almost like a lover. ] When I tell you to shut your fucking mouth? Do. It.
[ there are wires slithering up Harry's body from the floor, slow and sensual, before wrapping around his throat loosely. Kirk plucks one and it slides up the wizard's chin and presses against his lips. presses, presses- pushes through, moving with a mind of it's own as it stitches between each lip, sewing them shut. ]
Dooo yourself a favour, aaaand... [ another follows until three have done the job to Kirk's standards. he mimics cutting the ends, which disappear, leaving Harry's mouth unattached to any other wire. ] Don't scream. It'll just tear the stitches, kay? [ he pats Harry's cheek roughly. ]
[Harry does what he can to focus his gaze somewhere else, to glance away from Kirk. He sends his eyes focused down toward the wires, as if he's more worried about those rather than being genuinely afraid of soulgazing the captain. He'd only briefly seen the True Self of the captain in his Sight and that was enough to keep his mind occupied. The wires are distracting enough on their own, combined with the touch at his lips. Oh. This doesn't look good, this doesn't look good at all. Fear eats into him before he can stop it, exacerbated by the intense throbbing pain in his feet. His breath shortens, despite his attempts to at least appear mostly oblivious, his nostrils flare with each panicked exhale. If his mouth was taken away, well. That's his biggest self-defense mechanism and all his access to magic. If he was unable to verbalize it, there would be nothing he could do to except try his own wires, which would be difficult to focus on through the pain.
And then the wires slide through the skin above his lip, through the unshaved scruff, pierce the soft tissue of the inside of his mouth. It burns as each wire slices through his mouth, sews it neatly shut, gives life to a hundred fears that sat on the backburner simmering until now. What would have been a scream is a muffled tone, rising with the panic burning through his chest. He can't run. He can't talk. He can't cast.
Kirk pats his cheek when it's all finished and Harry's fingers are tapping against the tile, they're shaking so much from the pain pounding against him like waves against a cliff. But he quiets down, he tries to ignore the copper in his mouth, or the steel keeping it locked up tight.
He can't reply, after all, and he's left silently nodding. Don't scream.]
Good boy. [ he pulls away, whistling under his breath; a little dance is done around Harry's form, and he pats Harry's chest with a grin. ] See? Allllll better. Remember this, short bus. It'd be a fucking tragedy to have to take your tongue out, too.
[ he winks, and the lab's back, light piercing and white; all but the wires in Harry's feet and face are gone, as if they were never there. Kirk strolls to the door and out, whistling all the way. ]
[Yeah that smile does nothing but stoke the fear burning away inside him even higher. As Kirk pulls back, Harry watches him, keeping his shaking hands down against the floor until the captain seems to disappear and the wires, excepting those currently piercing his skin, with him. It's always an unpleasant shock to have any wires taken away from him, especially ones that had been wrapped around him like that. It leaves him nearly quaking as he reaches up for his mouth. Blood-coated wires remain there and his fingers ghost across the steel, nervous to even touch the wounds for fear of making it worse. They burned along with every painful pulse of his feet and he shook against the floor.
He couldn't summon a pair of scissors to cut the wires without the tenbu word, couldn't get the powers to work with him, even if he had enough focus. Any kind of casting required tenbu, not just a sheer force of will. Gingerly tugging on his feet only results in another white-out shock of pain that leaves him whimpering on the tile floor.
No, he wouldn't be moving or talking anytime soon.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
and here he is in a puff of smoke, eyes bright and blazing and very, very unamused. ]
What did I fucking say. [ smoke rolls off of his shoulders, out from between his lips. he looks Harry over, smirking. ] You need to learn how to take orders, short bus. First order of business- [ and now the lab is entirely dark, as if it never existed in the first place. ] Do you know how to stand still?
no subject
He quietly tucks away the rational part of him that is quietly screaming at the memory of the void room, leaving his expression calm and unassuming. Like he has no idea what's about to happen. It must be a birthday party!]
I can take orders. [Harry responds obediently in that dead voice, forcing himself to not look around at the encroaching darkness that eats through everything. At the second question he straightens, forcing his body as still as he can manage. If he's good, he'll get a wire. Those are the rules.] Yes, I do.
tw: foot trauma, face trauma here shortly
[ there are wires creeping under Harry's feet; caressing up and under any clothing. hello, ankles. you're lovely. hello, toes. how nice is this? it's even nicer when they start to worm their way into the skin, lacing through over and over again, as if stitching his feet to the floor. shoes are no obstacle: they get sewn tight against Harry's skin and to the tiles as well. ]
How's that feel. [ he cocks his head, smiling. ] Tight enough? Or tighter? [ and the wires press in a little deeper. ]
YEP
But the pain is so nice, so familiar, even if it's not as clean as the doctor's version. This one is messier, wires tearing through tendon and muscle and cracking through bone. Like a blade of grass growing up between two slabs of concrete, the wires cut through his feet and hold him there. Each wave of pain is more intense than the last, the delightful pain quickly turning into something uncomfortable and then--- he sags back against the floor, his hands bracing him as the wires crack and break another bone in his feet. A muffled groan slides from his mouth as he tries to hold it in, tries to brighten it into something appreciative. He's supposed to like this.]
Family. [His voice is tight, his fingers shaking against the tile as pain washes through him with each throb of his heartbeat. And then the wires get tighter and his world goes white for a second. He's not sure if he's screaming or if it's just his imagination.]
no subject
[ he fashions himself a little step of wires, to reach Harry's face and look him straight in the eyes. ]
Listen up, short bus. The next time I tell you to walk the fuck away? Do it. [ he smiles, holding one finger in front of Harry's face. see? finger. he trails the fingertip over Harry's lips, gently, almost like a lover. ] When I tell you to shut your fucking mouth? Do. It.
[ there are wires slithering up Harry's body from the floor, slow and sensual, before wrapping around his throat loosely. Kirk plucks one and it slides up the wizard's chin and presses against his lips. presses, presses- pushes through, moving with a mind of it's own as it stitches between each lip, sewing them shut. ]
Dooo yourself a favour, aaaand... [ another follows until three have done the job to Kirk's standards. he mimics cutting the ends, which disappear, leaving Harry's mouth unattached to any other wire. ] Don't scream. It'll just tear the stitches, kay? [ he pats Harry's cheek roughly. ]
no subject
And then the wires slide through the skin above his lip, through the unshaved scruff, pierce the soft tissue of the inside of his mouth. It burns as each wire slices through his mouth, sews it neatly shut, gives life to a hundred fears that sat on the backburner simmering until now. What would have been a scream is a muffled tone, rising with the panic burning through his chest. He can't run. He can't talk. He can't cast.
Kirk pats his cheek when it's all finished and Harry's fingers are tapping against the tile, they're shaking so much from the pain pounding against him like waves against a cliff. But he quiets down, he tries to ignore the copper in his mouth, or the steel keeping it locked up tight.
He can't reply, after all, and he's left silently nodding. Don't scream.]
no subject
Good boy. [ he pulls away, whistling under his breath; a little dance is done around Harry's form, and he pats Harry's chest with a grin. ] See? Allllll better. Remember this, short bus. It'd be a fucking tragedy to have to take your tongue out, too.
[ he winks, and the lab's back, light piercing and white; all but the wires in Harry's feet and face are gone, as if they were never there. Kirk strolls to the door and out, whistling all the way. ]
no subject
He couldn't summon a pair of scissors to cut the wires without the tenbu word, couldn't get the powers to work with him, even if he had enough focus. Any kind of casting required tenbu, not just a sheer force of will. Gingerly tugging on his feet only results in another white-out shock of pain that leaves him whimpering on the tile floor.
No, he wouldn't be moving or talking anytime soon.]