p, angeldust torture / soul for sale

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  • Nothing permanent, his mind whispered to him as he walked into what passed as a prison in the Sanguine Ruins. SunClanners didn't torture, Quasar knew, even his rage wasn't enough to convince him to completely throw away the values his parents raised them to have. But, to bend his values in the face of his parents' killer, that seemed a little bit different. A touch more permissible. And would it truly be the worst torture if he left no marks, no damage that couldn't be healed? Minus the psychological, of course -- because Quasar would never emotionally recover from the early deaths of his parents, why should he care if Angeldust walked away with any mental issues?

    But he was not a monster. Not yet, anyway. He brought very little with him, just a small bag of tools he hurriedly made after his arrival in the Sanguine Ruins. If he had not been rash and reckless about all this, he likely would have more than a half-baked plan with some crudely made instruments. But, if he wasn't reckless, he wouldn't be standing here, ready to do this. Ready to fall into the darkness of his soul.

    Spying the form of Angeldust, however the Ruiner had tethered them down, the black jaguar-kitsune made his way over to the form. Golden liquid the consistency of half-baked fudge slid down his eyes and muzzle as Sekhmet's corruption took hold inside him -- but, this time, he welcomed it. He would fall to the darkness within him if it made him better at extracting his revenge. He just wanted to feel better, to feel just a bit like he felt before his world crashed down around him, was that too much to ask?

    Attempting to pick up the back of Angeldust's head before slamming the captured creature's face into the ground, the Veilian half-growled, half-hissed his hatred. "Listen real fucking good, because this is the only time I'm going to speak to you tonight. You killed my parents. You stole my life from me before it even begun -- you stole the lives of my siblings! You stole our happiness, our parents, and our trust in SunClan. You betrayed my father. You make a joke out of all of SunClan by walking around the streets after what you've done, hanging off of Levi's arm and giving him princes and princesses with your filthy blood," he snarled, rage distorting his voice as all the pent up rage within him flung out of his throat in an instant. This was his therapy -- this is what he needed, not hugs and kisses from his adopted family or more books than he could ever read in his lifetime. He needed the sweet taste of violence on his tongue and blood between his toes to feel again.

    "My sister and I will never forgive or forget you. In turn, you will never forgive or forget me, will you? You will remember my name, Quasar Arcanium, until your death," he continued to snarl, fire hissing and crackling around his teeth as he drew on his power. Licking his teeth, he quickly unwrapped a small package of minuscule glass shards wrapped in paper. He would then attempt to blow the shards of glass into Angeldust's eyes. Not permanent -- treatable, but torture Quasar knew would sting. With every blink the glass shards would be driven deeper into the eyes, but every moment without blinking hellfire all the same.


  • (so sorry for taking so long ;w;)

    Picked up, again. Slammed down, again. Nobody appeared to have any manners anymore did they? No hello, no nothing before everyone was grabbing to hurt the kitsune again. Whatever. Ang just did whatever they could to angle their head the best so the pain would be somewhat manageable, blue hues staring off into the distance as the dazed Sunclanner tried to recover the blow. Who was this kid anyways? He smelt distinctly of not Ruiner. More.. Shadowclan, or Shadow Veil as Ang understood they went by now.

    Talk talk talk. Yap yap yap. This boy talked too much smack for his size, Angeldust couldn't even bring the energy to even fake a frightened demenour. Half lidded eyes filled with as much apathy as the Sunclanner could muster turned upwards through thick eyelashes to look upon the bristling boy, Ang feigning a bored countenance. Too much reaction would get to the little brat's mind. Quasar didn't even speak the whole truth, it was demeaning to listen to his words filled with malice for things Angeldust hadn't even done. That was the worst thing about this whole fallout; the lies, the warped delusions, the way that people morphed Ang's actions into something else to make them appear worse then they were. Because Angeldust was entirely a piece of work, but they took a distaste to false accusations.

    Whine whine whine.

    Boo hoo, Ang didn't even care to give Quasar the honour of having a sentient being listen to his words anymore. Tuning out all the accusations turned to white noise.

    It was as if people only cared that Ang had caused Sugaredsun's death, fair enough that they were, but who gave two shits about Sarangerel's murderer? Quasar even sided with the woman who had caused Sarangerel's death, his biological mother. Gross. Guess Ang understood how people thought about Levi now. There was still a lingering shred of defiance whispering to the bruised and beaten kitsune that what little tolerance Ang had been shown was somehow different, but there was no real excuse for being allowed every right as a Sunclanner. The mother just had to be there for the kids, not a protected member.

    Filthy blood. That one got the kitsune irritated. Like Angeldust had filthy blood somehow as if Quasar's Arcanium blood was golden - it was pitch black, Ang knew Arcanium blood down to the molecule. But it was funny somehow as if history was laughing in the face of everyone. The way that it repeated it's mundane and unforgiving path. Suga had seen filthy blood in Angelpaw - saw it in the heritage of the smaller kitsune, but did learn to look past that. Leading to his death. Yet, Angeldust didn't believe that blood could shape a person; nature versus nurture. Ang only had to look up to see why no matter how regal and "pure" one's bloodline was, there was always room for anomalies. Annoyed and indignant Angeldust mentally retorted like a child that the princes and princesses that Quasar spoke so lowly of were his relatives - even by blood.

    Suddenly Quasar was back on the attack as shard of glass came flying towards the kitsune's face, Ang counting their lucky stars when blue hues were protected by eyelids quick enough to save them from being blinded. Foreign object in eye was treatable yes, but Ang didn't hold faith that anyone was going to treat them before it became too late. The action infuriating the Sunclanner at Quasar for his lack of obedience to the man who had let the brat into the clan. "Are you empty headed or just suicidal? I'm well aware that Bucky has set boundaries for your stay, which is something that quite frankly astounds me, but I'd recommend respecting said boundaries. Or maybe you're just into some weird shit and were going to give me an eye wash immediately after. Imbecile!" Seething anger laced the kitsune's words. It was the most raw and real emotion that Ang had shown all this time in Sanguine Ruins, so props had to be given to the kid for actually drawing out something real from the kitsune. Blurry spots of red began dancing at the corners of Ang's sight as the kitsune finally acknowledged the fact that the glass didn't just disappear, it had to go somewhere. That somewhere being Ang's flesh. Nicks and cuts flayed out at the corners of Angeldust's eyes and a particularly nasty cut profusely bled at the top of the kitsune's snout.


    i got you wrapped on my finger

    ——— 또 다른 내 모습이 머릿속에 linger

  • True to his earlier proclamation, the Veilian said nothing in response to Angeldust’s state – the words rolled off his mind as he closed his eyes, succumbing to Sekhmet’s gift of corruption. For those like him and her, turning off empathy quite literally came at the flick of a switch, and he planned to take full advantage of this ability for this first torture of his. For today, in this moment, he wanted his vengeance; he wanted his full vengeance, he wanted to feel drunk off the rush of it through his mind. He wanted to fall into the black abyss, even if he risked never climbing out.

    His eyes opened, in the middle of Angeldust’s ramble, unchanged by his release from human chains. Unfettered and uncaring, the black jagsune licked his teeth as he lowered his head to get a closer look at Angeldust’s face. Right paw reached out and attempted to smack the SunClanner’s chin into the ground, as he looked closer. A purr sounded from his throat as his eyes moved, tracing the pattern of those cuts and scraps his glass inflicted.

    Golden, tar-like liquid began to seep from his mouth, dripping onto the floor in long strings like honey – contrary to Angeldust’s expectations, no doubt, for Quasar no longer drew power just from his Arcanium family bloodline. But he paid it no mind, used to the corruption’s strange ways by now. Just another sign that his mind successfully shelved the empathy, compassion, and other such nonsense for his greatest moment.

    He stepped back, growing tired of continuously pounding Angeldust’s head. No, there were far better options available to him. Which to start with? The tail? The feet? The ribs? If he only allowed himself to leave a permanent mark, he knew his next move would involve cutting out the traitor’s claws – severed at the knuckle, rather than pulled out, such that walking would never be the same. And if he allowed himself to kill, then he could slowly crush each vertebra in the captive’s spine.

    But he put these silly limitations on himself, didn’t he? When the corruption’s influence left, he logically knew that his usual self would be incapable of bearing the weight of such disgusting torture techniques. So he wouldn’t do them – but that didn’t stop him from contemplating doing so.

    With a forlorn sigh, as though being forced to say goodbye to a dear friend, the black hybrid merely walked another circle around the captive body, stepping over any bounds that held the kitsune as he did so. Broken bones, he supposed, that was not permanent; on average they healed within a few months or so, usually leading to a full recovery if properly bound and set. And he knew that SunClan would be back soon to pick up their royal babies’ traitor mother – Angeldust likely wouldn’t have to wait long. He supposed the risks were acceptable.

    Lifting his left paw, he stopped beside Angeldust, his gaze narrowed as he scrutinized the kitsune’s limp body. Running his paw over the flesh (almost as gentle as Levi’s touch probably was, he assumed with no small amount of twisted glee), he carefully felt each rib. Admittedly, he had not studied fox anatomy as much as he should have before this trip, but he recalled that several species closely related to foxes had ‘floating shoulders’ and ‘floating ribs.’ And he remembered that floating ribs were the most painful ribs to break. When he reached the last ribs along Angeldust’s side, he nodded to himself and pulled back his paw – the medic could probably guess what would happen next.

    He attempted to strike, aiming to break the smallest two in one strike. If successful, he would move his paw to the side and repeat the maneuver on the third smallest rib – and then, finally, on the forth. Without glancing at the former goldenblood’s face, he continued circling the kitsune as though he had done nothing malicious at all the previous second – even as the golden, highly viscous liquid continued to drip out of his half-open mouth with even greater frequency. But he simply drew his tongue across his lips, ridding himself of that annoyance for now.

    His steps seemed lighter than before, as though he just lifted a giant weight off his back. And he could admit, to himself in the privacy of his mind, that he felt so much better than before. Enough to continue. Enough to want to continue, for the purr in his throat to increase in volume until it became the loudest sound in the room.