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mekachu04it hurts so much.
i's just a few drops, but he screms every they hit his bare chest - his shirt long ago eaten away why the holy water, seeing as it was never real to begin with. it might be for the best - real clothes whoudl just hols the water to him, prolonign the tourture.
he's chained by the wrists to an slopped stone, if he slumps to releave the pressure on his aaching feet the water drips on his face instead, forching him to remain (standing). if his arms had been above his hed he could maybe hold himelf up by them from time to time, but instead they are back behind him on either side of the rock, further limiting his otions.
the water is jsut slow enough thatit wont kill him. just endless dripping, eating away his flesh and bone but not quick enough to eat his eternal damned self before he heals.
all other miricles are blocked here. the only power still working his ablity to heal, and he can't even turn it off.
Drip.
DRIP.
D R I P.
even if it wasn't acid on his body, the dripping would likely drive him mad soon enough.
the only light was from the crack above him where the water dripped down - holy too and it hurt to look at. unfortuatly, the most confortable (HA!!) possition was to let his head fall back, forcing him to look up with unblinking eyes at the light.
DRIP.
his knee buckles, and he slips again, the water spaching across his check and he screams again.
He'd cry in frustration and pain if he could. he's tried, he hurts, and he's starting to struggle to remmeber anythign out side this place.
------
he's shoulder is dislocted, in his attempts to contort out of the way of the leak. it's dripping ont he stone, trickling down his back, a new place to burn, and he can't deside it's it better or worse.
there is a breeze - that's new - but he can't focus on anthing but the agony down his back.
there's a warm glow to his right - a tear in reality, and something squeezes through. the air reatches with anxiety, nervous enegy, and there is a thick sence of urgancy ruminating into the room.
"oh my dearest..."
he knows that energy.
"we must hurry, I'm not sure i can get the door open a second time...."
there is a rush of movement, and a warm hand brushes his face. he can't help turn in to it, wincing as his back rubs against hte wet holy stone. "I have you dear boy, hold on.."
he can feel a tug on his wrists, and the air thicks in fristrations. there's a snap in the air, but no burning ozon of a mircle follows it.
"oh, come on now..." the voice is now, muttering, yet soothing.
he forgets what is coming, and the next drip hits him directly this time, and he screams.
the voice is soothing when he comes back to himself, petting in his hair, the world dimmer then before, closer to what he's used to.
"I have you crowley, i'm here." he voice assures him. his schoulder has been wrnched abck into place while he was delious, pins and hot needles stabbing into his arm.
the light is fading on his side, and he's pretty sure he should be worried about that, but there is a soft petting to his hair, and a soothing murmer in his ear, and..
and...
there is no new burn. no drop. he think he can hear it falling somwehere else, but not on him.
it's dark for once, and he slips off into a deamless sleep
i's just a few drops, but he screms every they hit his bare chest - his shirt long ago eaten away why the holy water, seeing as it was never real to begin with. it might be for the best - real clothes whoudl just hols the water to him, prolonign the tourture.
he's chained by the wrists to an slopped stone, if he slumps to releave the pressure on his aaching feet the water drips on his face instead, forching him to remain (standing). if his arms had been above his hed he could maybe hold himelf up by them from time to time, but instead they are back behind him on either side of the rock, further limiting his otions.
the water is jsut slow enough thatit wont kill him. just endless dripping, eating away his flesh and bone but not quick enough to eat his eternal damned self before he heals.
all other miricles are blocked here. the only power still working his ablity to heal, and he can't even turn it off.
Drip.
DRIP.
D R I P.
even if it wasn't acid on his body, the dripping would likely drive him mad soon enough.
the only light was from the crack above him where the water dripped down - holy too and it hurt to look at. unfortuatly, the most confortable (HA!!) possition was to let his head fall back, forcing him to look up with unblinking eyes at the light.
DRIP.
his knee buckles, and he slips again, the water spaching across his check and he screams again.
He'd cry in frustration and pain if he could. he's tried, he hurts, and he's starting to struggle to remmeber anythign out side this place.
------
he's shoulder is dislocted, in his attempts to contort out of the way of the leak. it's dripping ont he stone, trickling down his back, a new place to burn, and he can't deside it's it better or worse.
there is a breeze - that's new - but he can't focus on anthing but the agony down his back.
there's a warm glow to his right - a tear in reality, and something squeezes through. the air reatches with anxiety, nervous enegy, and there is a thick sence of urgancy ruminating into the room.
"oh my dearest..."
he knows that energy.
"we must hurry, I'm not sure i can get the door open a second time...."
there is a rush of movement, and a warm hand brushes his face. he can't help turn in to it, wincing as his back rubs against hte wet holy stone. "I have you dear boy, hold on.."
he can feel a tug on his wrists, and the air thicks in fristrations. there's a snap in the air, but no burning ozon of a mircle follows it.
"oh, come on now..." the voice is now, muttering, yet soothing.
he forgets what is coming, and the next drip hits him directly this time, and he screams.
the voice is soothing when he comes back to himself, petting in his hair, the world dimmer then before, closer to what he's used to.
"I have you crowley, i'm here." he voice assures him. his schoulder has been wrnched abck into place while he was delious, pins and hot needles stabbing into his arm.
the light is fading on his side, and he's pretty sure he should be worried about that, but there is a soft petting to his hair, and a soothing murmer in his ear, and..
and...
there is no new burn. no drop. he think he can hear it falling somwehere else, but not on him.
it's dark for once, and he slips off into a deamless sleep
