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phoenixborn · 4 months

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The so far dormant entity's ear caught the words she's been looking for to hear throughout the nights. Open mic. A last moment check to make sure everything was beyond perfect:

“RAISE YOUR HORNS !”

The incredibly gritty howl reverberated throughout the palace, although instead of horns, wings broke free from her body.

“RAISE 'EM HIGH !” almost a battle cry, the entity glittering in gold and starlight made her way towards the stage with utmost ease & lack of care

“LET 'EM SOAR, LET 'EM FLY ” impossibly strong vibrato and effortless switches between clean and raw rasp vocals, without needing a microphone, her wings seemingly acting as an amplifier

“UP THROUGH THE HEAVENS, FOREVERMORE” fire began to envelop her body, obscuring the golden wonder from the eyes

“LET 'EM RAIN DOWN; RAISE YOUR HORNS!” Cindy reached the stage at last, stepping out of the whirl of cosmic fire in an entirely different outfit, the Cosmic Dusk.

“Now, that I have all of your attention,” grit still present in her speaking voice as well along with a cuttingly playful edge “I have to ask: do you settle for less? Less than what you could be or could get? Obviously not, if you are attending to this ball. I know most of you run for the hills at the sound of rock n roll, but don't bolt just yet. I have something digestible even for such fine crowd.”

The entity chuckled, yes she will be holding back, still a better outcome than trying and succeeding in outscreaming nobility. The rhythm although heavy, she was true to her promise and reigned the previously displayed raw force of her voice.

youtube

“I know what you want, I know what you like: You're obsessively undressing me with your eyes.” still without a microphone, her voice surrounding the crowd nicely “I know what you need, I know how to play. I know how to give without giving it all away.”

“I got all my moves! I know how to tease, I know what to do and wanna make you believe~” she broke away from the crowd for a minute to address the next lines to Beelza herself

“That you, baby, you're special. A whole 'nother level.” a ghost caress of her cheek with one of her radiating wings before stepping towards the crowd again

“And you wanna touch me, take me home tonight, yeah, you maybe I'll let ya” her own gloved hands skating across her body, head turning towards Beelza once more

“But I'll never settle, for anything less than special, special, special, special.”

“I know who you are, got your number down.” Cindy sat at the very edge the stage, allowing a demon to run his talons up her thigh high boots “I know how to turn you on” a purr before a sharp push with her heel as she stood “and turn your ego down.”

“And I hear all your friends, I know what they say: If you get dishonest promise I won't hesitate” a breathy, seductive tone in extremely sharp contrast of her first introduction of earth shattering vocals

“To put out the fire, to put up a wall! Don't ruin it by thinking you're the be-all and end-all.” an immediate slip back to the previous volume, playing with her voice so effortlessly as if it was as easy as breathing

“That you baby, you're special, a whole 'nother level.” this time the singer sought out a different member of the crowd, a beautiful succubus dressed in purple shades “And you wanna touch me, take me home tonight, yeah, you, maybe I'll let ya. I'll never settle, for anything less than special, special, special, special.” jade sprinkled with golden stars fluttered close at the guitar solo; this is what she craved. What she dreamed of. And she will be damned if she doesn't deliver.

“I know what you want, I know what you like, trying to convince me with your ‘meet me backstage’ smile.” she wagged a finger with an all knowing grin, slithering down to a squat, close enough to touch; that if someone dared to with such wings looming above them “But I got all my moves, I know how to tease, I know what to do and wanna make you believe!”

“That, you baby, you're special like some kind of rebel.”

“And you wanna touch me, take me home tonight!” switching into a sharper, aggressive tone as the song eventually drew to a close “Yeah, you! Well, maybe I'll let ya!”

“But I'll never settle.”

“For anything less than special, special, special, special !”

Cindy allowed the last beats to close the performance, bathed in the spotlight and her own radiance

“Was that so bad was it now?” she asked, voice filled with smug with satisfaction

“Want to try something heavier? I can last the whole night.” the innuendo perfectly on purpose, although a glance at Beelza “Or as long as it's allowed.” she corrected, though she was curious who had the guts to perform after her.

@qveenofgluttony / @infernal-feminae

#🔥 ic🔥 | yeah l'm a bombshell; will light you up like one #beelzebub's masquerade ball: event #🔥lzzy hale / voice claim🔥 | effortless grit and hour long high belts of freedom #Vocal Powerhouse has arrived #Tagging both blogs because Tumblr be Tumblr so to be sure #🔥 save 🔥 | hidden constellations

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 1 year

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Chapter 13 ~ A light at the end of the tunnel

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist

Genre: Fantasy whump

Written per Whumptober 2022 prompts

CW: captivity flashback (dream), drugging, blood, debasement, creepy/intimate whumper, strangulation, vocal injury, lots and lots of beautiful angst

WC: 3787 4014

AN: Hey, I'm putting a title as a placeholder bc it bothers me to finish this arc without one.

I fully intend to continue this in a recovery arc. I might need to take a little break though lol.

Although, let me know if anyone wants an AU :D

Dual POV warning

Resh

Something must’ve been in the broth brought to him earlier because now the rusty bloodstains on the floor swam in uneven lines through the chalky white limestone. The light flickering from the lamps by the door created shadowed hands that reached out for him. Resh blinked, and he could hear his eyelashes brush together. His skin was buzzing, and his injuries throbbed mercilessly. He whimpered.

"What's the matter, Resh? Are you not feeling well today?" Marcus asked, brushing his hand down Resh's arm.

Resh flinched. Where had Marcus come from? He hadn't seen the prince enter the room, let alone crouch in front of him. His breath caught when Marcus dug his fingers into one of the wounds on his arm, cracking open the fragile edges. Marcus brought his bloody fingers up to Resh's face, traced them over the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

"Ah, a bloody tear trail. I like it." Marcus grinned and reached out to brush Resh's hair back.

Resh jerked back before he could stop himself.

Suddenly, Marcus' hand was behind Resh's head, his hair caught in a painful grip. The vine wrapped around his collar slithered away, and Marcus slammed his head to the floor at his feet.

Resh's brain ricocheted in his skull while bright sparks flashed behind his eyes. Fuck, that hurt.

"You can't seem to remember that you belong to me, can you? That you’re mine to do with as I will," Marcus said, grinding Resh's head into the stone.

"No, my lord. I'm sorry, my lord," Resh forced out, trying not to flinch at the harsh sound of his voice. What remained of it, anyway.

Fuck you, you piece of shit, is what he really wanted to say.

The prince released him. "On your hands and knees, eyes on the ground."

Resh scrambled to follow Marcus' instructions, but his limbs were unwieldy and weak. His head throbbed, and his vision swam, probably more from whatever drug he'd been given than the blow. Marcus' boots moved away, making a curious crunching noise while Resh struggled to get into position.

A wet warmth trickled down his forehead; Resh watched as a droplet of red splashed on the floor. The stone greedily drank the blood, leaving nothing but a tiny spot of rust behind.

"Eyes up." Marcus' voice sounded far away and oddly layered.

Resh raised his head, finding Marcus sitting on a chair across the room. Or rather, three Marcus’. The floor between them looked strange–the light reflected off it strangely. Resh tried to concentrate, to pick a Marcus to look at, but he couldn't decide which one was real.

Marcus laughed. "Having a little trouble, Resh?"

That lopsided grin he hated so much reflected back at him three times over. Resh shivered at the wrongness of it–the world couldn’t take three of Marcus. He couldn’t take three of Marcus.

"Come here," Marcus beckoned.

Resh sat up, tried to keep himself steady enough on his knees to stand.

"No, no, not like that," Marcus said, amusement lacing his tone. "Crawl."

Immediately, Resh balked. Fuck, no. No way in the pits of the damned was he doing that.

"Oh, you think you can say no?" Marcus asked, crossing three pairs of arms over three chests.

The collar around Resh's throat tightened, cutting off all access to air. Resh tried to dig his fingers underneath the vine, but his efforts were useless.

Three Marcus' laughed at him through his rapidly darkening vision. "You better start crawling. If you don't, I'll let you pass out. You’ll wake up soon enough when I release the pressure. I'll strangle you again, and again, and again. Then, when I get bored with that, I'll practice my technique on you a little more, and you'll have no strength left to even squirm."

Resh dropped to his hands and knees again, forcing himself to move. He would do almost anything not to feel that knife digging into his skin again, only to be replaced by Marcus' fingers, probing and pulling and tearing. Ripping him apart.

The collar loosened when he crawled forward. He sucked in a glorious breath, only to lose it in a hoarse scream as he put his weight on his left hand. His right shot out to support him so he could inspect it, find out what had sliced into his palm. A crunch followed by searing pain stopped him.

Resh reared back onto his knees with another cry. Tears blurred his vision even more while he cradled his bleeding hands to his chest. Echoes of the pain traveled all the way up Resh's arms.

The floor was covered in shards of glass.

"You are mine for another year, Resh. But you keep forgetting. Pulling away from me. Looking at me with hate in your eyes," Marcus said. "I own you, and I won't have you thinking otherwise. Now crawl."

The collar tightened again and didn't loosen until Resh was back on his hands and knees. He whimpered when he put weight on his hands once more, driving the shards further into his flesh. The glass dug into his knees next, and he froze, unable to force his body forward.

"Please, my lord, I can't," he sobbed.

Tears and blood fell from his face, mixing to stain the glass beneath him. Pools of red seeped out from under his palms. He felt paralyzed; he could either slice himself up on glass or let Marcus strangle him and strip more of his skin away.

"You can, Resh, and you will." Marcus' voices echoed through the room, ringing in Resh's head in triplets of cruel satisfaction.

He tried to move, he really did, but his arm trembled and stayed where it was. "Please," he cried. "I belong to you! I—"

His plea was cut off when the collar tightened.

"You will move, or I will drag you across the floor, how about that?" Marcus asked, sounding irritated now.

Somehow, he moved. Again and again, the glass crunched under his weight, drove into his skin. A steady whine emerged from his throat, interrupted by hiccuping sobs. His left arm gave out, and he fell on his shoulder. More glass embedded into previously compromised flesh, bruised and lacerated and stripped from earlier sessions with the prince.

It hurt it hurt it hurt

Resh could barely see, and what he could see was unreliable. He crawled, hoping he was heading toward the correct Marcus.

His world was nothing but pain, blood, and tears. And the sound of Marcus' laughter.

The relief he felt when he reached Marcus' actual feet was indescribable. Thank gods he hadn't guessed wrong. Thank gods. He hung his head, panting against the continuous onslaught of pain. His whole body was shaking–cold, he was so cold.

Marcus rose from his chair. Placed his boot on the back of Resh's neck. "Say it."

"I belong to you," he said dully, his voice little more than a whisper.

Marcus pressed down, and Resh's arm gave out again. He shrieked as the shards dug into his bare chest.

"Not good enough," Marcus said, pressing harder.

~~~

Resh bolted upright with a soundless scream.

Frantically, he tried to pluck the glass from his skin, to stop the pain streaking like lightning throughout his body. But his hands met fabric, fabric soaked through with sweat.

He stilled when he realized he was wearing a shirt. That didn't fit. His chest heaved while he tried to recenter himself.

It was dark, but he was sitting on something soft and warm. His left hand clenched in something silky... bedsheets? Yes, bedsheets. His right hand flew to his throat. A knot in his stomach loosened when he encountered no collar. Just the small dots of scar tissue left behind from the thorns.

It was dark, but moonlight streamed in from a window to his left, and a thin silvery beam crossed the foot of the bed. Slowly, achingly slowly, Resh's heart rate slowed. He traced his fingers over his throat, reminding himself he wasn't there anymore.

A dream—it had just been a dream. Or a nightmare, rather.

He was in a guest chamber in the palace.

The queen had visited him personally a few days after his rescue. While she hadn't acknowledged her son's behavior in any way, she'd released him from his contract and offered him… reparation? He thought that was the word she'd used. Money, he'd been given money. A lot of it, along with the use of this room for as long as he needed. And the offer of a ranked position serving the Crown.

Resh wondered if the queen thought money would erase his memories. If she thought money would remove the fucking brand from his forehead or the scars on his body. If she thought money would return his voice to him.

It had been weeks, and he still couldn't make a single sound. Resh rubbed his throat while he stared blankly out the window. And as it always did, his mind latched onto Carr. He wondered what she was doing, how she was doing. If she was okay. If she was sleeping any better than him.

A lump rose in his throat. She'd not left his side once during his time in the infirmary, and Resh had thought… but he hadn't seen her since he'd been released. It wasn't like he could go out into the city and ask around for one of Nykim's thieves, either. Carr had just felt guilty, he told himself. Once she'd assured herself he would recover, she’d returned to her life.

He tried to tell himself it was better that way.

It was better because he was using the queen's blood money to get out of this fucking city. He had no plan except to take his sister and travel north. It wasn't like he could expect Carr to go with him. Closing his eyes, Resh tried to breathe through a different kind of pain.

In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, he saw the look Marcus had given him when Carr and Nykim had carried him out of the manor. His eyes flew open, and he shook his head violently, concentrating on the way his new bangs brushed over his eyebrows. He was willing to travel north for as long as it took to forget that look, that promise in Marcus' eyes.

Marcus was gone, sent to foster with some former noble in the east. But the memories remained. And one day, Marcus would return, even if it was just for a visit. The city wasn't safe. Would never be safe.

Resh’s breathing eventually evened out, but his chest still ached, and his eyes burned with unshed tears. There would be no more sleep for him tonight.

Not with the echoes of his nightmare still lingering. He shivered and pushed out of bed. Might as well get a headstart on his preparations since he and Orla were leaving tomorrow.

Leaving. The thought increased the tension banding across his chest. He hated that he was leaving the city without seeing Carr again. But he had no way to contact her. Although, Nykim had contacts in the palace, so maybe she already knew and just didn't care.

He cared. He missed her.

Resh wiped his tears away and headed for the washbasin. He needed to change out of his sweat-soaked night clothes.

And find some way to deal with the fact that she was gone.

~~~

Carr

"How's he doin?" Carr asked the small girl sitting across from her.

They had met at a rather nice cafe in the city, one befitting the girl's current status. Perhaps Carr should've worn something a little nicer than her plain tunic and brown pants, but since she was still presenting as a man, no one gave her trouble.

Men could get away with a lot, Carr had discovered. She wrapped her hands around the delicate porcelain teacup in front of her, letting its coolness seep into her clammy palms. Cold tea, for this hot summer day.

Orla spun her teacup on its saucer, back and forth, back and forth. When she looked up, her brown eyes were shiny, and she swiped a gloved hand across her cheek when a tear slipped out. "He still can't speak. He writes stuff down for me, but he doesn't really tell me anything. I hate that I'm too young to help him."

Carr looked up at the green and white striped canopy shading the patio they were seated on, feeling her own tears forming. She couldn't read, so she wouldn't be able to communicate with him that way. Maybe she could teach him the thieves cant? The hand signs were rough approximations and not very versatile, but it was better than nothing. And she'd been practicing reading lips with Nykim.

A breeze kicked up, rustling through the white-leaved ornamental trees lining the street in front of her. Carr swallowed the lump in her throat and looked back down at Resh's sister. "Has he decided when he wants t’ leave?"

"Tomorrow," the girl said, perking up. Her lilac scarf slipped back a little, revealing the tiny curls in her short brown hair. "I think the change of location will be good for him. And seeing you, of course."

The lump in Carr's throat returned, so she took a sip of her tea. It didn't help. She folded her hands in her lap instead. Spoke to her hands, too. "You sure he'll want me t' come?"

It was a little fucking late to ask such a question. She'd been making preparations for weeks now. Training up a new beta, selling the things she didn't need, packing the things she did. Her bags were ready to go at a moment's notice, just in case Resh freaked out one night and decided to take off. The nightmares had been bad, she'd heard.

Carr wished she could've been there for him, but he barely left his rooms, and she couldn't be seen in the palace if she didn't want to be imprisoned again. There was also that niggling doubt that he’d want to see her. Just like the one that told her she was a fool for making these plans. Upending her entire life, and for what? Just to be rejected, left on her own again?

"That's a silly question. Of course he will!" Orla said with all the confidence of youth.

A wall came up, familiar and safe, one that she could tuck her feelings behind. Carr crossed her arms over her chest. "We'll see."

The words came out a bit harshly, and Carr felt bad when Orla bit down on her lip. It was a nervous habit of hers, Carr had noticed.

She drank the rest of her tea and stood. Tried to speak a little softer this time. "See you tomorrow?"

Orla nodded, giving her a small smile. "You have nothing to worry about, Carr. You'll see."

~~~

Carr stood in the shadows of the royal stable early the next morning, watching the hired coach that was being loaded. Orla stood to the side, twisting her hands in front of her while she glanced around. A servant was packing luggage into the carriage with Resh’s help.

Once she found Resh, she couldn’t look away. She studied him critically, although she was unsure what she was looking for.

The first thing she noticed was his hair. He’d had it trimmed; the brown waves framed his face, barely reaching his shoulders. A shorter length of hair fell across his forehead, mostly hiding the scar she knew was there.

Then, she noticed his clothes. He would be miserable, the way he was dressed. A long-sleeved shirt with fucking gloves? And a godsdamned scarf to boot. It was midsummer, and he was traveling north, where it would only get warmer. What the fuck was he thinking?

Did he think his sister would be traumatized if she saw a few scars on his hands, his forearms? The scars around his throat weren't even that noticeable. Fucking shit.

But the lantern light illuminated the dark circles under his eyes, making her wonder if he wore all that so he didn't have to look at it. Her anger faded away.

"You gonna go talk to him, Carrah? Or did you decide to stay after all? Flynn is okay, I suppose, but he definitely isn't you," Nykim said.

Carr turned her head to glare at her pack master. Or former pack master, she supposed, if she truly left.

She could admit to herself how fucking scared she was. What if Resh didn't want to see her? Didn't want her along? Her heart thrummed in her chest, and she clenched her hand around the strap of her bag.

If she could admit it to herself, she could surely admit it to this man who had done nothing but support and protect her in his own way for the last ten years.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered. It felt like her heart was trying to jump outta her throat. "What if… if…" She couldn't finish, just looked at Nykim helplessly.

"Carrah, that boy worships the ground you walk on. He's been moping around the palace since he moved out of the infirmary. I've had servants report him asking after you. Discreetly, of course." Nykim raised his hands when Carr's eyes widened. "You're a fool if you don't at least ask."

She stared at him for a moment, considering. Then, she extended her hand. Nykim cocked an eyebrow before sandwiching it between his own. A sadness crept into his eyes, and he didn't even try to push her physical boundaries. It was probably a first for him, and Carr smiled through her tears.

"I'm gonna miss you, Nykim. If… you know." She took a deep breath. "Thank you. For… for everything."

The corner of Nykim's mouth kicked up. "Nothing to thank me for. But… I’m gonna miss you too." He squeezed her hand and released her, stepping back.

Carr flexed her fingers and turned to check on Resh. Took a deep breath. When she glanced over at Nykim again, he was gone.

At least there was no one to witness whatever was about to happen. She knew if she came back to the lair, Nykim would take her back in, no questions asked. But first… she had to try. She owed it to Resh, at the very least.

Just in case, she dropped her bag against the stable wall. That way, it didn't look like she expected anything. Her chest felt too tight, and her hands trembled now that she had nothing to hold on to. She didn't think walking up clutching the hilts of her daggers was a good look, so she clasped them behind her back and forced herself to step forward.

Orla saw her first, and Carr gave her a tremulous smile. The girl ran over to Resh, chattering excitedly and waving her hands. He stiffened, the bag he was carrying slipping from his fingers. A plume of dust rose, the motes dancing around his body in the early morning light as he spun to face her.

Their eyes locked. Carr didn't know what to call the expression that crossed his face. It looked like a mixture of pain and relief. Happy and sad all at once. What did that mean?

Resh didn't move, so she was forced to cross the entire space between them. She stopped before him, probably too far away, and shuffled forward another step. Reminded herself that words were a thing.

"You leavin?" She could've kicked herself as soon as she said it. Words were a thing, and those were the ones she chose? Fucking shit.

Orla giggled, the sound light and happy. "You knew that already. You're so silly, Carr."

Resh looked at his sister, then back to her, and raised his eyebrows. He pulled a notebook from his back pocket, along with a piece of charcoal, but Carr reached out, placing a hand over his when he started to write. He looked up at her slowly, his brows drawn.

"I can't read that," she said, snatching her hand back while her cheeks filled with heat. This was going just great. Fucking great. "Just talk. I've been practicing readin lips."

You have? he asked, carefully forming the soundless words while his fingers clenched around his notebook.

She nodded.

What are you doing here? Resh asked, something indecipherable flickering across his face.

Carr cringed and backed up a step. Did that mean she shouldn't be here? Had this been a mistake after all? "I, umm…"

She looked over at Orla, who waved her hand in a circle, apparently trying to encourage her.

"Umm…” Her throat constricted, and she swallowed. Her next attempt resulted in her mouth opening and closing soundlessly, and she clenched her fists helplessly at her sides, taking another step back. And another.

Resh watched her, his dark brown eyes looking like bottomless pools of misery.

It was all she could do not to run away. And that pissed her the fuck off. Why wouldn’t the words come?

“For fucks' sake! I can't do this!" Carr spun, crossing her arms over her chest. She was either going to cry or throw one of her daggers. How did people deal with this fucking bullshit?

"Do you want to come with us?" Orla asked.

Carr turned back slowly, only to find Resh glaring at his sister, scribbling furiously in his notebook.

Her heart sank. "It's fine, Resh. If you don't want me t’ come, I mean. It was a stupid idea."

"It's not a stupid idea!" Orla said heatedly, glaring at her brother.

"I mean—" Carr said, backing away.

Orla started talking again, drowning Carr out. The girl was clearly agitated, her voice rising to an ear-piercing shriek.

Resh sliced a hand through the air, and they both stopped talking. He shook his head at his sister and then walked over to Carr. She stared at his mouth, waiting for him to speak. It took a few minutes.

Those few minutes felt like a lifetime.

I want you to come, he finally said.

"You do?" Carr said, her voice a touch higher than usual.

He nodded, standing a little straighter.

Something fluttered in her stomach. "Well, I guess I can come," Carr said, shifting her weight awkwardly.

Resh smiled, his eyes lighting up.

"Long as you don't think I'm marryin you!" she blurted.

Oh gods, what the fuck was wrong with her? Carr's face heated even further when he shook his head, his shoulders quivering with silent laughter.

She scowled but found she couldn't hold onto the expression. "Can I, maybe, hug you?" she asked quietly.

Resh’s eyebrows rose. He reached up to adjust his scarf, and Carr thought he would refuse. It was okay if he said no. She understood completely if he didn’t want to be touched.

But then he said, Of course. Can I hug you back?

Nodding, she stepped closer, tentatively wrapping her arms around his waist. Very gently, he folded his around her shoulders.

Carr let his heat envelop her, relaxing the unnatural stiffness her body held, and laid her head on his chest.

Yes, this felt right.

His heartbeat thundered under her ear, soothing her as surely as the rise and fall signaling his breaths. There was a time when she feared she’d see or hear neither ever again. He began to tremble when it became clear she wasn’t going to pull away any time soon, and she tightened her grip, struggling to keep her own tears at bay.

When Carr finally stepped back, she pretended not to notice as he wiped his face, just as he made no mention of her sudden fascination with the bird nest perched in the stable’s eaves.

After a few moments, when she was sure her emotions were back under control, she grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her to retrieve her bag.

"Let's get outta here," she said.

Resh’s answering grin was the best thing she’d ever seen.

This is the end of Arc 1! If you'd like to check out my artbreeder pics of Resh, Carr, and Nykim, they're linked on my masterlist, along with a commissioned sketch of this last scene! Stay tuned for Arc 2!

Masterlist

Also, I wrote an AU.

What if Carr didn't escape >:) Check out the first chapter here

Image Description

[ID: The banner is a blue-green background, with tree branches arching over a set of blue-green eyes, forming an approximation of a face. The words Hidden Depths are written in white above the eyes. end ID]

#whumptober2022 #no.31 #a light at the end of the tunnel #comfort #OC #writing #captivity #flashback #drugging #blood #debasement #strangulation #vocal injury #angst #whump #whump writing #fantasy whump #creepy whumper #hidden depths

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