Goodbye LJ...

[windandwater]

This is just to make it official for those who don't know, but I'm leaving LJ completely. For the rest of this week at least. Tomorrow is the Bar Exam and it runs for three days, so don't expect to see me about at all until Thursday night. Or even until the weekend since I plan on spending Thursday after the Bar drunk and crying. No online time for me at all. *whines* It will be hard, but I know I can do it.

So, because I'm a total h0r like that, I am declaring this to be a spam post. Go ahead. Run wild! Give me fics, give me links, give me pics, just babble to your heart's content and rape my inbox so I have something to see when I finally DO come back to the wonderful world of LJ. I don't even care if you write me a drabble and post it one word at a time. XD;

Though, I've tried to make a spam post before and it failed a bit miserably, so I don't have very high expectations this time around. Feel free to prove me wrong though!

♥

Comments

Re: Spoil of War, prologue

[mikkeneko.livejournal.com]

The silhouette of an arm crossed in front of the firelight to take something from the grate in its hand. A figure detached from the surrounding shadows and walked towards him, the soft, almost deliberate footsteps sounding in time with the pulse in his ears. He moaned in horror as the orange glow appeared in front of his eyes, moving his head in unconscious denial. “no... please...”

“You don’t want this, do you?” the faceless voice mocked, holding out the little bit of Hell for him to see. He shook his head frantically, the tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes and boiling down his skin. Cruel, hard laughter was his response, as the shadowy figure moved only closer. “Then all you have to do is answer. Who are the other rebels? Who leads them? Where are they?”

“I don’t know,” he whimpered. “I don’t know any other... resistance fighters. We... we were the only ones...” Waves of terror flared through him, shaking him in his bonds; he knew, he knew that the words were not the ones the man wanted to hear. But they were the only ones he had to give. “I don’t know any others...”

“Pathetic,” the shadow spat cruelly. “You act like you have something to fight for, like you have something to protect. You’re worthless. You’re nothing. Why do you bother to conceal the truth?”

A torrent of babble rose to his lips, protesting his innocence, denying that he concealed, protected, fought for anything. But they, too, were not the words the man wanted to hear, and so they went unheard.

“That’s not good enough!” the voice growled angrily. “You’ll change your mind, sooner or later; you’ll tell us what we want to know.”

And then the thing touched him, and he screamed, and screamed, and barely even felt the lesser searing agony where the wires sliced through skin and flesh as they held him. He screamed until his voice broke, and his throat bled, and blood filled his mouth along with scalding tears and the taste of his own helplessness. He never lied, never; he wasn’t lying now. He knew nothing, he told them he knew nothing; why wouldn’t they believe him? Couldn’t they see that he would tell them anything, anything he knew, if only they would stop? Couldn’t they see that he was already broken?