Find The Word Tag
I was tagged by @raevenlywrites, thank you!
I think I'm going to do this with "The Macabre Tales", just for a change
"Lucy had never seen a corpse before. Of course, there had been the inanimate bodies of the animals she stuffed as a child, but it had nothing to do with a human corpse. She pulled away from the arms of her father — who was courteously known as Lord McGrath — and slowly approached the autopsy table. She recognized the little white scars scattered here and there on his cold skin, his long brown eyelashes, his birthmark on his left collarbone and his blonde hair. Yes, that was her older brother, Richard. She stroked his cheek one last time, suppressing a sob and shuddered at the touch of his stiff skin. What was she going to do now that he was gone?"
"Suddenly, something hit the window. Lord McGrath jumped, nearly dropping his glass. Emmett seized his gun, which was hanging from his waist, while Solomon armed himself with the black iron poker. The American was the first to walk to the window. He took a deep breath and yanked the curtain back. He glanced outside: there was nothing but darkness, and not a trace of the creatures. He sighed and lowered his gun."
"Lord McGrath poured himself a glass of Scotch in a crystal glass, then looked gravely at the associates he had chosen and those with whom he had been forced to work. Victor nervously tapped his foot on the carpet alongside Doctor Niederhäusern who put on a calm face which was almost reassuring. Solomon stood by the door, his arms crossed over his chest, and Emmett, sitting in one of the leather armchairs with his pistol within easy reach, was also having a drink. Karina was standing in front of the fireplace, her hair loose, her eyes fixed on the flickering flames as Vlad dried his freshly washed hair."
"You are young, and I am convinced you don’t want to die, but if you refuse to cooperate I will kill you. A slow, unpleasant and painful death, far from the fate these mortals have in store for you. Tell me who you serve and what he covets."
Elie remained silent. He tilted his head and began to stare at Karina, then a smile spread across her sickly face. “Hominem te esse. "
and another one. I know, the word "refuse is not in this one BUT in french, the word "deny" can mean "refuser" and this means "refuse"; "deny" is just prettier for this passage (also, it's one of my favourite dialogue and my fav friendship so...sorry I have to cheat)
"Is there a problem?" he asked, putting the poker away.
"Is there a paradise in Islam?"
Solomon crossed his arms:
"Are you so afraid your God will deny you entry into Heaven that you are ready to turn to another one?"
"I was just wondering if everyone is really able to repent, if we are forgiven in the end."
I'm going to tag @amywrites256 @magnoliaash @dontjudgemeimawriter and YOU! As always, no pressure.
Your words are: honour, forbid, trust and red
ORNATE. Part One.
BTHB: Non-Consensual Body Modification. @badthingshappenbingo
OCs: Alistair Malcolm, Elliot Pierce, Zahlia Fox
Content: Manipulative whumper, creepy whumper, MINOR WHUMP, tattoos used as whump, noncon body modification, cursing, loss of consciousness.
“This is the design,” Alistair pushed a sheet of paper across the dining table to Zahlia. “We discussed it on the phone.”
“We did,” she agreed, looking over the design a final time. “For Elliot, correct? He’s how old?”
“Seventeen. I pay you for your discretion, in case you’d forgotten that.”
Elliot sat beside Alistair in silence, attention only on the design on the table, depicting a Chinese dragon, wrapped around some kind of longsword.
“I’m aware,” Zahlia responded to Alistair’s blunt reminder as though it didn’t faze her. “My kit is in my car. Get him ready, you know the drill.”
Once Zahlia had slipped out of the front door of their penthouse, Elliot began to slip into panic. Into uncertainty.
“Look — Alistair — I — I’m not sure that this is what I want,” He finally spoke. “This isn’t me.”
“Shut up and take off your shirt,” Alistair got to his feet. “We already decided on a spine placement.”
“No — I need a minute to think about it.”
“You’ve had over a year. Don’t make this difficult.”
“I’m not fucking trying to!”
Alistair turned to face Elliot, expression stormy.
“You do not use language like that, do you understand? If you speak to Zahlia like that, I’ll make you wish that you never lived this long,” Alistair hissed, approaching Elliot’s chair and taking his hair in his grip. “Do you understand?”
“I understand,” Elliot nodded against Alistair’s grip. “I do, I understand perfectly.”
“Good. Now, get up, take off your shirt and wait for Zahlia. You show any hesitance, you’ll regret it.”
Elliot didn’t need to be told twice. Not this time. The moment Alistair released his grip, Elliot stood. He unbuttoned the embroidered shirt and folded it tightly, clinging to it as though it could somehow protect him.
His breath caught in his throat when, minutes later, the penthouse door opened.
“So, El? Are you ready now?” Zahlia spoke to Elliot this time around, “It’s probably best if we do this on the couch, right sweetheart?”
“Sure,” Elliot responded, already making his way over to the leather couch. He followed her instructions to lie down, flinching only when she pulled an antiseptic wipe across his back. He shuddered, stilling himself quickly.
Elliot agreed with everything that was said.
Yes, the placement was fine.
Yes, the design was perfect.
Yes, he knew how to take care of the tattoo.
At any moment, he could have been honest. Admitted that he hated the design. Told her that it was far too big, that Alistair had chosen it, that he’d had no say in this at all. But the words were just too hard to say.
The tattoo gun hummed to life as Zahlia began work, following the design laid out beside her freehand. Elliot did all he could to relax. To tell himself that it would be over soon. Because it would.
Zahlia’s gloved hands skimmed his back as she worked. Even the tissue she used to blot away ink sent sharp pains down his spine. He closed his eyes, pressing his face into the arm of the couch as he tried to suppress tears. Breathing evenly was difficult — the next jolt of pain was the end of the road.
“Stop — stop,” Elliot coughed as he spoke, “I need a break.”
“A break? Sure, sweetheart. You need a drink? Painkillers?”
“He doesn’t take painkillers,” Alistair interjected. “He’s better than that, aren’t you, Elliot?”
“Mhm — yeah — no painkillers, ‘m fine,” Elliot agreed. But, god, did they sound good right about now. “I just need a minute.”
Elliot wiped sweat away from his forehead in frustration, gritting his teeth and pressing his face into the arm of the couch. He was better than this. Far better than letting this get the better of him.
Alistair clicked his tongue and came to crouch in front of Elliot, filling his line of sight with his firm expression.
“Do you need some help staying still? Zahlia doesn’t have all day, and you’re going to tell her that you’re ready now. Got it?”
“Mhmm — I’m ready,” Elliot spoke as soon as he was told to.
Help to stay still. No. Whatever that meant — he wanted none of it.
“Good,” Alistair stood once more, hand brushing over Elliot’s cheek as another jolt of pain rushed up his back.
Once more, Elliot could only exhale shakily.
His vision blurred over. Head filled with static.
“Alistair — Alis...”
Elliot hardly managed to start his sentence before the overwhelm pushed him over the edge. He let out only a quiet gasp before he passed out.
Zahlia had already begun to put the gun aside, shifting backwards once she became aware of Elliot’s collapse. Once she realised just how lacking her judgement had been.
“You told me that he would be fine,” she hissed, using the back of her hand to feel Elliot’s forehead. “What now? Huh?”
Standing across from her, Alistair was completely unaffected by the unfolding of events. It had been as much as expected.
“What now? You keep going,” he shrugged off her concern. “He will be fine. Eventually. I want this done, and I want it done today. At least he won’t move and ruin the design.”
“Alistair, I’m not sure —”
“Not sure of what? Just do what I pay you for.”
Gaze flickering between Elliot and Alistair, Zahlia finally nodded. Alistair was the last person she wanted to argue with, no matter the circumstances. After checking on Elliot once more, Zahlia fired up the tattoo gun and began to go over the thin lines of the tattoo.
She honed her focus in on the tattoo and the tattoo alone. Elliot wasn’t out long — a couple of minutes, at most. Maybe not even a minute. But it felt like long enough. He made no sound or visible movement, but Zahlia felt how he tensed under her touch.
“Not long now, just some finishing touches,” she did her best to reassure him. “Ten minutes, El, that’s it.”
Goosebumps had risen on Elliot’s arms and the lightheaded sensation began to turn into nausea. Ten minutes. How long had it been? He twisted his head to the side, in search of Alistair. Nowhere to be seen. Elliot hadn’t heard him leave.
“Do you have painkillers?” Elliot whispered, as soon as he was sure they were alone. “Please? Do you?”
Zahlia was caught off guard by his request but couldn’t bring herself to abide by Alistair’s previous instructions. She pulled out a blister pack, taking two and pressing them into Elliot’s open palm.
“Are you almost done?”
“Almost, do you want anything to drink?”
Elliot shook his head as he swallowed the pills, letting his head fall forward one more time. Each movement from the needle sent shockwaves through him, but he stayed awake. Stayed aware of his surroundings.
And then the room was filled with silence — or as close to silence as they could get with Elliot’s uneven breathing and Zahlia beginning to tidy away her equipment.
“Keep an eye on him for a few hours,” Zahlia spoke, not to Elliot. He could only assume that Alistair had returned. “I don’t like how he passed out like that. He eaten today?”
“I’ll be the judge of that. And, no, he hasn’t. But he’s just a stubborn teenager, I told him that he should eat something.”
The way Alistair lied so effortlessly, and the way Zahlia didn’t question it — that stung. A stubborn teenager. Elliot so desperately wanted to argue. Set the record straight. But it would do no good. He felt his stomach growl as Alistair and Zahlia made small talk.
He let out a choked breath — forced back tears — and rolled onto his side, facing towards the back of the couch. Clouds surrounded his mind and, despite his best efforts, he had no luck in staying awake this time around either.
Right now, Elliot had no choice but to drift into vulnerability.