Post by wordy on Nov 11, 2009 14:43:02 GMT 10
Title: Retribution
Rating: PG
Words: ~315
Summary: Vinson of Genlith's experience in the Chamber of the Ordeal.
Vinson dropped to his hands and knees, spitting out blood on the chamber floor. His body was shivering, from both the cold and the countless injuries he had sustained. He watched without feeling as a cut on the back of his hand dribbled blood onto the grey stone floor.
You won’t break me, he thought furiously. Never in his whole life had he wanted to yell like he did at this moment, yell at this Chamber, this...thing. They deserved it, all of them. They had it coming. His throat ached from screaming silently. He licked his dry, cracked lips.
The Chamber said nothing. It almost felt as if it was ignoring him. Vinson grinned, showing bloody teeth. He managed to stand up, though his legs still felt shaky. Raising his hand to his mouth, he licked the blood from the cut. It didn’t look too bad, though it hurt like anything. He imagined the rest of him was in worse condition, but he didn’t have the energy to look.
Well? He taunted silently, is this all you’ve got?
The Chamber remained silent. Vinson nodded; he had won. Before he could take a step toward the door, though, he found himself being flung back at an impossible speed. His back hit the wall with a brutal crack, the wind pushed from his lungs. He struggled for breath, hands scrabbling at something invisible that clung to his throat. His vision was fading quickly as he tried vainly to breath. He started to see pinpricks of light in the darkness, before everything turned black. Suddenly, the pressure was gone. He bent over, sucking in the cold air. Lifting his hand to his face, he felt wetness dribbling from his nose. Blood. All at once, he felt unbearably tired. His body ached all over, the cuts stinging cruelly and bruises already beginning to show on his skin.
Before the door swung open, he thought he heard something, a voice.
You don’t deserve death.
Rating: PG
Words: ~315
Summary: Vinson of Genlith's experience in the Chamber of the Ordeal.
Vinson dropped to his hands and knees, spitting out blood on the chamber floor. His body was shivering, from both the cold and the countless injuries he had sustained. He watched without feeling as a cut on the back of his hand dribbled blood onto the grey stone floor.
You won’t break me, he thought furiously. Never in his whole life had he wanted to yell like he did at this moment, yell at this Chamber, this...thing. They deserved it, all of them. They had it coming. His throat ached from screaming silently. He licked his dry, cracked lips.
The Chamber said nothing. It almost felt as if it was ignoring him. Vinson grinned, showing bloody teeth. He managed to stand up, though his legs still felt shaky. Raising his hand to his mouth, he licked the blood from the cut. It didn’t look too bad, though it hurt like anything. He imagined the rest of him was in worse condition, but he didn’t have the energy to look.
Well? He taunted silently, is this all you’ve got?
The Chamber remained silent. Vinson nodded; he had won. Before he could take a step toward the door, though, he found himself being flung back at an impossible speed. His back hit the wall with a brutal crack, the wind pushed from his lungs. He struggled for breath, hands scrabbling at something invisible that clung to his throat. His vision was fading quickly as he tried vainly to breath. He started to see pinpricks of light in the darkness, before everything turned black. Suddenly, the pressure was gone. He bent over, sucking in the cold air. Lifting his hand to his face, he felt wetness dribbling from his nose. Blood. All at once, he felt unbearably tired. His body ached all over, the cuts stinging cruelly and bruises already beginning to show on his skin.
Before the door swung open, he thought he heard something, a voice.
You don’t deserve death.