[Yes, yes, taking mental notes... Nishi finds the appropriate section and scans the racks for anything that might catch his eye. He also has to factor in Fandaniel's personality, or it won't be an appropriate punishment.
Sifting, sifting... Eventually, Nishi finds something that meets his specifications. A surprisingly modest choice, perhaps, but only on its surface. Some things should be left to the imagination and obscured beneath layers of cloth. That's what makes tearing it all away so satisfying.
He turns, handing the dress to Fandaniel. Not's not giving French maid at all, but it speaks to him.]
[ Was French some Hinganshi equivalent, he wondered? He was wrong, of course, to think that, since it certainly wasn't, but it was what the sleeves reminded him of first and foremost. With a shrug, he'll hold the dress up to himself shyly first, turning to make eyes at Nishi, mockingly coy. ]
I do hope my master will excuse me to change in the dressing room.
[He'd find the display more appealing were Fandaniel earnestly shy, but he'll have a chance to redeem himself once he's slipped into the dress and shown Nishi his willingness to commit to debauchery.
Nishi finds a seat, dragging over a plush chaise lounge so it sits right in front of the dressing room, a reminder for Fandaniel that he has an audience to please.
Nishi takes his seat and motions for Fandaniel to scurry off to the dressing room and get changed.]
Of course. Just don't stall in there deliberately. A dress like that should not be hard to put on.
[ There he goes, swooping away to the dressing room with glee. Honestly, that Nishi thinks something as simple as a dress will frighten him is worthy of amusement all in itself. He doesn't tarry; he's quick to shed his current outfit and don the maid dress, although it isn't without some complaint: ]
You couldn't even get me thigh-highs to go with this? Or heels?
[ But Nishi is right. It doesn't take him long to change, and soon enough, he's stepping out for final inspection. He even goes as far as to give a curtsy, plucking the skirt of the dress up to allow a proper one, even if, traditionally, if this is meant to be Hingan style, he should do a bow. ]
The shoes will come later. We have to find a suitable dress first.
[And this one is... well, it does look good on Fandaniel, but he also looks comfortable in it. Too comfortable. Nishi needs him uncomfortable, tugging at the frills of a too-short skirt and distracted by his own debauched appearance. For that reason, Nishi readied an alternative.
He hands over the dress with care — more care than Fandaniel will ever know by his hand — but not without flipping up the layers of the one he's currently wearing. If he's thinking "nice legs," it's not commentary he shares.]
It suits you a little too well. Try this one. It should fit the bill nicely.
[ Unbothered by how Nishi ruffles the layers of his current dress, he takes the new one and gives it a good look over, running the fabric through his fingers. Far shorter, far more revealing. This, too, he only chuckles at. ]
Very well. Do wait for me.
[ And then he turns and sashays back into the dressing room, making a point to put a lot of hip into that walk as he does. Another few minutes pass as he swaps out the dresses, and then he pushes the curtain that hangs between the stall and Nishi aside, sliding one arm up the edge of the stall, the other hand on his hip, as he strikes a pose.
This one is very leggy, showing so much more, and even now, he seems shameless about it, merely smirking at Nishi as he awaits a verdict. ]
[Right. Not a mistake, but a misstep all the same, Fandaniel looking far too at home in a slutty little dress. Bad for Nishi's designs to wear him down and make him crave another hand to end him, but good for Nishi's eyes.
Reclined on the lounge, he crooks a finger to beckon him closer. Come within reach, and it won't take much effort to peer up through layers of petticoats. The verdict? Pending. First comes the physical inspection.]
Incredible. You're embarrassingly shameless. Have you always been this way, or did you lose yourself somewhere along the way?
[ He'll stroll across to the lounge, putting himself well within reach for Nishi to peruse the layers of fabric barely long enough to cover just past his hips at his own leisure. His question merely earns a snort of — surprise, surprise — still amusement. ]
Shame was a feeling long since discarded by Allag's own hungers, and I am nothing if not a product of my empire.
[And peruse he will, one palm pressed flat against Fandaniel's thigh, fingers wandering, inching higher and higher... until they reach the juncture between thigh and hip. What kind of underwear did Fandaniel choose for this hazing? Don't say tighty-whities. That would ruin the moment entirely.]
That would explain a lot. What do you feel if common human decency has been stripped from you?
[ Considering Nishi had warned him of what was to come the night before, he's made a point to find something black and lacy from within the costumerie. No doubt from some burlesque collection for certain shows, but also suitable enough for this. It did mean sneaking away to search for them before having to meet Nishi here, of course, but why shouldn't he?
It's not as though Nishi's included any accessories as of yet, now has he? ]
Hmm, what do I feel? [ He leans into the palm lying against his thigh and hip. ] Despair, hatred, madness; it's all quite gloomy, no? But what else would one expect from a man such as me?
[Nishi was raised with learned patience. As much as he might crave it all evening, he knows dessert tastes best when saved for last. Still, he's never been one to follow the rules when he can break them with ease, snapping the flimsy waistband of those panties before withdrawing his hand and rising smoothly to his feet. He offers his little maid a bent arm to hold, guiding them toward the accessories.]
Not much. [heh] But it's a shame. You must have been quite different when your beloved Xande was alive. Did you dress up for him too?
[ None of this is something he cares about one way or the other; he'll play shy at the snap of the waistband and lay a hand on the offered arm, playing along as easily as anything else he's done. It strikes him as a strange choice to try and be rid of him this way, though if Nishi is as gripped by the need to keep him close as Fandaniel is to him... ]
I did not.
[ He offers up in response after falling into a quiet moment of thought, thinking back, dredging up memories from so long ago. ]
T'was hardly needed as I was always dressed extravagantly in those times. I do wonder now what he would have thought I had turned up dressed as a maid. Could I have seen him smile one last time? Or would he have scolded me for playing a fool?
[They have a few options in the realm of accessories. Nishi picks out a pair of wristlets and stockings with garters for Fandaniel to add to his ensemble. If he can't embarrass Fandaniel, he can at least ensure the maid who will be attending to him looks the part.]
For what it's worth, either reaction would be appropriate. You play your role dutifully, whatever that role may be.
Now then... don't tell me slipping these on requires the privacy of a dressing room.
[The garter belt may take some patience, but so what? Modesty between them is rapidly becoming pointless. When these layers are bound to end up on the floor at some point anyway, there's little need to fuss over decency.]
How indecent of you. Asking to watch a lady dress?
[ But he is no lady, nor is he modest. He'll do Nishi the favor of dropping the pretense and slipping the wristlets on first, followed by shimmying into the garter belt, but then he's finding an appropriate stool to balance against with each foot as he slowly, so slowly, pulls the stockings on, one by one. He'll push the ruffles of the maid's skirt aside to give him the best view possible as he does this.
Each time he finishes rolling a stocking up, he's sure to attach it to the garter, snap, there, to keep them in place just so. ]
[At that, Nishi can't quite catch his laughter before it slips free— Fandaniel? A delicate little lady? Hardly. Should Fandaniel ever need reminding of his place in this arrangement, he'll receive it, once the pieces have all fallen into place.
Still, Nishi doesn't deny himself the indulgence of watching him work the garter and stockings into place. They suit him too well, almost. Born to play the fool, or else so long steeped in this performance that the man he once was has been eroded away. Perhaps he's forgotten the man he once was altogether.
Someone, surely, ought to be kind to Fandaniel for what he's endured— life, death, and all the cruelty between. But it won't be Nishi. He's just as hollow, bled dry by years of dutifully bowing to his role until there was nothing left but the mask.
He plucks a pair of stilettos from the line of shoes, black and slinky, the heel licked with white and gold ribboning, and offers them with a wry flourish.]
Alright then, "little lady." Try these on. You can manage in heels, can't you?
[Six-inch stilettos are a torment fit to break lesser men, but if Fandaniel is a lady of true taste and refinement, he'll suffer prettily in silence.]
[ Would it displease Nishi to know that he had always been this flamboyant? Or perhaps that was hardly what he wondered. It was simple enough for Fandaniel to reach for an old role — one of many, for many different names has he had, and many different faces — and sink back into it. This one, at least, was closest to reality.
Strange, shameless, laughing and smiling when no such joy to fuel either of those lived in him any longer. Well, at least the humor he felt was real enough. This was hilarious, him dressing up to please a man that some unknown God has bound him to. So much does he desire death at his hand... Ah, to feel any desire at all after all this time?
He puts on a surprised face even as he takes the heels. ]
Little old me with heels like these? How tall they are, but I can't disappoint, now can I?
[ Perhaps shocking no one whatsoever, he can don such heels just fine, as he does, although there is a small wobble when he first steps away from the support of the stool. ]
Hmm, though it has been some time. Let's see.
[ He'll keep a hand on a hip, other arm extended straight out alongside him, and he practices a few prim little steps, heels clicking on the floor as he goes. A few steps away, a turn, and then a pose. ]
[Fandaniel certainly looks the part. Some wobbling aside, it seems he can walk the walk just fine. He has his allure, no doubt, but Nishi isn't here to flatter him. He has yet to give up on the idea of breaking this man down, showing him a living hell so severe that he'll turn away from his craving of death... but Nishi isn't a fool.
He knows from personal experience, after all, that some men are determined to chase their own death no matter what trials stand between them and oblivion.
All that remains, then, is to see how far Fandaniel will fall before slipping into the void. Nishi rises, offering Fandaniel the briefest applause — clap, clap — before he makes for the prop room, motioning for Fandaniel to follow. He won't offer him an arm to hang onto this time, nor will he wait for him to catch up in those dangerously high heels.]
Tell me, Fandaniel: should you be rewarded for your efforts or punished for falling shy of expectations?
[ Nishi will find it a difficult feat. Fandaniel has sought an ending for several thousand years now, and he does wonder, what does this little mortal in red think he can dish out that he hasn't already suffered? Ever curious even now, he'll offer a grand sigh and trail along after the man. He won't be as quick, naturally, but he won't be far behind, either. In the end, these are still six-inch stilettos, and the memory of wearing such in the past is slow to stir.
He had worn such before, had he not? Hmm. When, though? Who was he pretending to be then? Had he been a woman at the time? Surely, he must have been, but a name eludes him. Someone of little import, then, he imagines. ]
Would it bother you to know my heart flutters at the thought of either? Reward me, punish me, you will find me at your service regardless.
[Fandaniel can take his time. That gives Nishi the opportunity to select what he needs, his hand closing around the handle of a leather riding crop and testing the weight of its keeper against his palm. This will do. The sting will bite, the welt will rise, and come the inevitable strip search later in the week, it may even leave a mark worth remembering.
That, of course, is something to weigh carefully. Nishi has no qualms about scarring this man with pain, but he knows too well how eagerly Fandaniel might bare his injuries to others... and point directly to their source. That would be... inconvenient.
So his back stays turned until the moment presents itself. And then, like a snake uncoiling, Nishi pivots on his heel. The crop whistles once through the air before it cracks down across the flesh of Fandaniel's thigh. The sound is sharp, like a breaking branch, and the impact blooms red almost instantly, a welt already raising. The air itself seems to ring with it.]
In that case... I'll just do what I want. You've already opened yourself to me, after all.
[ It hurts. The lash cuts through his nerves like fire, and Fandaniel jerks, surprised. It's startling enough to make him lose his balance, heels skittering on the floor in a useless attempt to regain it before he tumbles to the side, landing hard on a hip with a quiet hah. He catches the rest of himself on a hand pressed to the floor, but it leaves him seated on the floor, legs curled to the side. Even if the welt fades, that might leave a bruise along a leg, but even then, he offers no complaint.
What Nishi gets instead is Fandaniel peering up at him from below, the shock on his face short-lived. He slides back into a smile and a laugh after the fact, and he raises a hand to daintily cover his growing grin. ]
Master wants to be rough, it seems. Shall I get back up and bend over for you?
[Nishi grins, teeth bared in something sharp and unkind. There's shame in it somewhere— buried and muffled, but that shame grows quieter each time he lets this part of himself surface. Whoever he was before... was surely not a good man. I have to be better, he reminds himself, but the voice urging restraint is little more than a whisper now.
He doesn't offer a hand. Instead, he nudges Fandaniel with the toe of his boot, coaxing him onto his stomach. The skirt rides up easily, exposing pale skin. A moment's pause, a deliberate raising of the crop, then the strike. It lands with a snap, reverberating through Nishi's palm, the kind of hit that leaves nerves buzzing and flesh hot. The sound cracks the air, sharp as a gunshot in the enclosed space.
It's satisfying, the way his body absorbs it, the faint tremor left behind. Nishi knows he's courting bruises if he keeps this up, but restraint doesn't come naturally with someone so infuriatingly eager to be broken.]
[ A terrible pair, the two of them, only capable of making one another worse, feeding off whatever obsessive savagery binds them together. Fandaniel, for his part, needs little coaxing to lay himself out on his stomach, even going as far as reaching back to make sure the skirt rides up tantalizingly, giving Nishi more than enough skin to target with his crop.
Again, he's struck, and a gasp is forced out of him, back arching and, in turn, his hips rolling up off the floor. It leaves him feeling alive for once, how the pain forces him to squirm like this. He can feel heat coming to his face, the same way the welt from the crop leave shot, angry skin where it hit. ]
...hah... good. Good. [ Surely he can come up with something more verbose than that. He looks back at him, neck craning just enough to gaze up at him with one heavily lidded eye and, as always, that damn smile. ] I hope you don't plan on holding back, hmm?
[What Fandaniel's doing here is dangerous, offering himself up as a striking board for Nishi's frustrations. Surely there shouldn't be many, not with the good, orderly life he's carved out since waking in a strange world.
But that all ended about a week ago. The train never stops— It simply carries him from one purgatory to the next. With every stop, the frustrations pile higher, his composure thinner, his cracks showing.
So— no. Holding back isn't even in the equation. Nishi circles the angry welt on Fandaniel's ass, then strikes again, leaving a smarting twin.]
You wanted this. Don't come crying if you can't walk tomorrow.
[ The strike sends a jolt through him, and his eyes flutter shut briefly, a quiet hitch in his breath catching in his throat again, his body tensing from the lash of pain, then relaxing again, slowly. ]
Mm.
[ His eyes open, all to peer up at Nishi once more. ]
I wanted this? [ A smirk. Insolent even now, dressed so indecently and on the floor like this. He'll ] I only wish to do what you wish to do, Nishi. I will not come crying to you tomorrow unless you want me to.
[ If that at all prods at the man's nerves, all the better. Fandaniel finds this all hilarious: dressing up, wiggling about, and making soft noises for him, all of it. A game for someone like Fandaniel, though he'll hardly turn down a bit of pleasure when it's inevitably offered. If it ever is. He can easily imagine Nishi denying that out of spite, but that would only lead to more laughter after the fact. ]
[This will test the balance between Fandaniel's shameless urge to run his mouth and how much abuse he can endure in silence. There will be questions at trial. Answer any of them honestly, and our deal is off.
Can Nishi trust him? Not in the slightest. But probing the limits of his loyalty has its own appeal, and so the keeper comes down again, and again, and again— across arms, thighs, the ridges of his spine. The crack of the crop keeps time like a metronome, snapping out a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for music.
By the time his curiosity is satisfied, there's scarcely an inch of Fandaniel's back left unmarked. Char gives him a nudge with the toe of his boot.]
What will you tell them?
[The ones who will ask. The ones who won't take silence for an answer.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Sifting, sifting... Eventually, Nishi finds something that meets his specifications. A surprisingly modest choice, perhaps, but only on its surface. Some things should be left to the imagination and obscured beneath layers of cloth. That's what makes tearing it all away so satisfying.
He turns, handing the dress to Fandaniel. Not's not giving French maid at all, but it speaks to him.]
Give this a try.
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[ Was French some Hinganshi equivalent, he wondered? He was wrong, of course, to think that, since it certainly wasn't, but it was what the sleeves reminded him of first and foremost. With a shrug, he'll hold the dress up to himself shyly first, turning to make eyes at Nishi, mockingly coy. ]
I do hope my master will excuse me to change in the dressing room.
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Nishi finds a seat, dragging over a plush chaise lounge so it sits right in front of the dressing room, a reminder for Fandaniel that he has an audience to please.
Nishi takes his seat and motions for Fandaniel to scurry off to the dressing room and get changed.]
Of course. Just don't stall in there deliberately. A dress like that should not be hard to put on.
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You couldn't even get me thigh-highs to go with this? Or heels?
[ But Nishi is right. It doesn't take him long to change, and soon enough, he's stepping out for final inspection. He even goes as far as to give a curtsy, plucking the skirt of the dress up to allow a proper one, even if, traditionally, if this is meant to be Hingan style, he should do a bow. ]
Well?
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[And this one is... well, it does look good on Fandaniel, but he also looks comfortable in it. Too comfortable. Nishi needs him uncomfortable, tugging at the frills of a too-short skirt and distracted by his own debauched appearance. For that reason, Nishi readied an alternative.
He hands over the dress with care — more care than Fandaniel will ever know by his hand — but not without flipping up the layers of the one he's currently wearing. If he's thinking "nice legs," it's not commentary he shares.]
It suits you a little too well. Try this one. It should fit the bill nicely.
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[ Unbothered by how Nishi ruffles the layers of his current dress, he takes the new one and gives it a good look over, running the fabric through his fingers. Far shorter, far more revealing. This, too, he only chuckles at. ]
Very well. Do wait for me.
[ And then he turns and sashays back into the dressing room, making a point to put a lot of hip into that walk as he does. Another few minutes pass as he swaps out the dresses, and then he pushes the curtain that hangs between the stall and Nishi aside, sliding one arm up the edge of the stall, the other hand on his hip, as he strikes a pose.
This one is very leggy, showing so much more, and even now, he seems shameless about it, merely smirking at Nishi as he awaits a verdict. ]
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Reclined on the lounge, he crooks a finger to beckon him closer. Come within reach, and it won't take much effort to peer up through layers of petticoats. The verdict? Pending. First comes the physical inspection.]
Incredible. You're embarrassingly shameless. Have you always been this way, or did you lose yourself somewhere along the way?
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Shame was a feeling long since discarded by Allag's own hungers, and I am nothing if not a product of my empire.
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That would explain a lot. What do you feel if common human decency has been stripped from you?
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It's not as though Nishi's included any accessories as of yet, now has he? ]
Hmm, what do I feel? [ He leans into the palm lying against his thigh and hip. ] Despair, hatred, madness; it's all quite gloomy, no? But what else would one expect from a man such as me?
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Not much. [heh] But it's a shame. You must have been quite different when your beloved Xande was alive. Did you dress up for him too?
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I did not.
[ He offers up in response after falling into a quiet moment of thought, thinking back, dredging up memories from so long ago. ]
T'was hardly needed as I was always dressed extravagantly in those times. I do wonder now what he would have thought I had turned up dressed as a maid. Could I have seen him smile one last time? Or would he have scolded me for playing a fool?
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For what it's worth, either reaction would be appropriate. You play your role dutifully, whatever that role may be.
Now then... don't tell me slipping these on requires the privacy of a dressing room.
[The garter belt may take some patience, but so what? Modesty between them is rapidly becoming pointless. When these layers are bound to end up on the floor at some point anyway, there's little need to fuss over decency.]
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[ But he is no lady, nor is he modest. He'll do Nishi the favor of dropping the pretense and slipping the wristlets on first, followed by shimmying into the garter belt, but then he's finding an appropriate stool to balance against with each foot as he slowly, so slowly, pulls the stockings on, one by one. He'll push the ruffles of the maid's skirt aside to give him the best view possible as he does this.
Each time he finishes rolling a stocking up, he's sure to attach it to the garter, snap, there, to keep them in place just so. ]
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Still, Nishi doesn't deny himself the indulgence of watching him work the garter and stockings into place. They suit him too well, almost. Born to play the fool, or else so long steeped in this performance that the man he once was has been eroded away. Perhaps he's forgotten the man he once was altogether.
Someone, surely, ought to be kind to Fandaniel for what he's endured— life, death, and all the cruelty between. But it won't be Nishi. He's just as hollow, bled dry by years of dutifully bowing to his role until there was nothing left but the mask.
He plucks a pair of stilettos from the line of shoes, black and slinky, the heel licked with white and gold ribboning, and offers them with a wry flourish.]
Alright then, "little lady." Try these on. You can manage in heels, can't you?
[Six-inch stilettos are a torment fit to break lesser men, but if Fandaniel is a lady of true taste and refinement, he'll suffer prettily in silence.]
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Strange, shameless, laughing and smiling when no such joy to fuel either of those lived in him any longer. Well, at least the humor he felt was real enough. This was hilarious, him dressing up to please a man that some unknown God has bound him to. So much does he desire death at his hand... Ah, to feel any desire at all after all this time?
He puts on a surprised face even as he takes the heels. ]
Little old me with heels like these? How tall they are, but I can't disappoint, now can I?
[ Perhaps shocking no one whatsoever, he can don such heels just fine, as he does, although there is a small wobble when he first steps away from the support of the stool. ]
Hmm, though it has been some time. Let's see.
[ He'll keep a hand on a hip, other arm extended straight out alongside him, and he practices a few prim little steps, heels clicking on the floor as he goes. A few steps away, a turn, and then a pose. ]
Well?
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He knows from personal experience, after all, that some men are determined to chase their own death no matter what trials stand between them and oblivion.
All that remains, then, is to see how far Fandaniel will fall before slipping into the void. Nishi rises, offering Fandaniel the briefest applause — clap, clap — before he makes for the prop room, motioning for Fandaniel to follow. He won't offer him an arm to hang onto this time, nor will he wait for him to catch up in those dangerously high heels.]
Tell me, Fandaniel: should you be rewarded for your efforts or punished for falling shy of expectations?
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He had worn such before, had he not? Hmm. When, though? Who was he pretending to be then? Had he been a woman at the time? Surely, he must have been, but a name eludes him. Someone of little import, then, he imagines. ]
Would it bother you to know my heart flutters at the thought of either? Reward me, punish me, you will find me at your service regardless.
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That, of course, is something to weigh carefully. Nishi has no qualms about scarring this man with pain, but he knows too well how eagerly Fandaniel might bare his injuries to others... and point directly to their source. That would be... inconvenient.
So his back stays turned until the moment presents itself. And then, like a snake uncoiling, Nishi pivots on his heel. The crop whistles once through the air before it cracks down across the flesh of Fandaniel's thigh. The sound is sharp, like a breaking branch, and the impact blooms red almost instantly, a welt already raising. The air itself seems to ring with it.]
In that case... I'll just do what I want. You've already opened yourself to me, after all.
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What Nishi gets instead is Fandaniel peering up at him from below, the shock on his face short-lived. He slides back into a smile and a laugh after the fact, and he raises a hand to daintily cover his growing grin. ]
Master wants to be rough, it seems. Shall I get back up and bend over for you?
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He doesn't offer a hand. Instead, he nudges Fandaniel with the toe of his boot, coaxing him onto his stomach. The skirt rides up easily, exposing pale skin. A moment's pause, a deliberate raising of the crop, then the strike. It lands with a snap, reverberating through Nishi's palm, the kind of hit that leaves nerves buzzing and flesh hot. The sound cracks the air, sharp as a gunshot in the enclosed space.
It's satisfying, the way his body absorbs it, the faint tremor left behind. Nishi knows he's courting bruises if he keeps this up, but restraint doesn't come naturally with someone so infuriatingly eager to be broken.]
No need. You look good right where you are.
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Again, he's struck, and a gasp is forced out of him, back arching and, in turn, his hips rolling up off the floor. It leaves him feeling alive for once, how the pain forces him to squirm like this. He can feel heat coming to his face, the same way the welt from the crop leave shot, angry skin where it hit. ]
...hah... good. Good. [ Surely he can come up with something more verbose than that. He looks back at him, neck craning just enough to gaze up at him with one heavily lidded eye and, as always, that damn smile. ] I hope you don't plan on holding back, hmm?
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But that all ended about a week ago. The train never stops— It simply carries him from one purgatory to the next. With every stop, the frustrations pile higher, his composure thinner, his cracks showing.
So— no. Holding back isn't even in the equation. Nishi circles the angry welt on Fandaniel's ass, then strikes again, leaving a smarting twin.]
You wanted this. Don't come crying if you can't walk tomorrow.
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Mm.
[ His eyes open, all to peer up at Nishi once more. ]
I wanted this? [ A smirk. Insolent even now, dressed so indecently and on the floor like this. He'll ] I only wish to do what you wish to do, Nishi. I will not come crying to you tomorrow unless you want me to.
[ If that at all prods at the man's nerves, all the better. Fandaniel finds this all hilarious: dressing up, wiggling about, and making soft noises for him, all of it. A game for someone like Fandaniel, though he'll hardly turn down a bit of pleasure when it's inevitably offered. If it ever is. He can easily imagine Nishi denying that out of spite, but that would only lead to more laughter after the fact. ]
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Can Nishi trust him? Not in the slightest. But probing the limits of his loyalty has its own appeal, and so the keeper comes down again, and again, and again— across arms, thighs, the ridges of his spine. The crack of the crop keeps time like a metronome, snapping out a rhythm that could almost be mistaken for music.
By the time his curiosity is satisfied, there's scarcely an inch of Fandaniel's back left unmarked. Char gives him a nudge with the toe of his boot.]
What will you tell them?
[The ones who will ask. The ones who won't take silence for an answer.]
me when he should have been stiff and in pain all week 2 long welp
DLKNSLKNSLKSNLKSNLSKN and there's no pain reliever.............................
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