♜ getting on my nerves [Private/Ambrosia]

There was no way to expect such a thing, so of course the poor exhausted man was caught off guard by the foot between his shoulder blades. Even if he hadn't been at the end of his stamina, he wasn't the most graceful creature, so the force sent him sprawling forward, belly flat on the ground. "Oof!" wheezed her newest victim, lungs compressed under the force, flailing lightly in the confusion. Perhaps the Theo of the past would have assumed an attack, but reformed Theo couldn't fathom that this would be on purpose. At first, all he could really register was that the dusty stones of the path were probably one step above falling on the sharp rocks of a costal front, and that they were hard and rough enough to have sanded a layer of skin from his left cheek and both his palms. "Ow! Ow ouch!" He hated pain so much! Even a little thing like this had him squirming, mind racing of how to make it stop. Scrapes were always fun, but as the jello man was able to suck in two full lungs of air at last, the pressure on his back was investigated. Did...did this person just call him a doormat? Flinching as a heel was dragged across his back, he was beginning to consider that this wasn't an accident, though he really hoped he'd misheard.

"A-Ah...excuse me," Theo groaned, straining to turn his his neck around to see what exactly was happening. Normally it wouldn't have been such a struggle to throw someone off of him and rise back up, but the muscles in his body were sore and spent. The effort of attempting to lift his own body weight caused them to twitch from lactic acid accumulation. "Could you please get off me? I'm just trying to find a place to stay. I don't want any trouble," huffed the Crystal Swan Ace, puzzled over the encounter altogether. It was late, and this was a rich town. By the looks of it the crime rate for ruffians should be down, but being a former thief himself, he did understand the lure of wealthy homes brimming with valuables. Perhaps this town was a two edged sword, and he was just having an unlucky day. "I don't live here, so I have nothing for you to take!" he pleaded to the presumed burglar, though that was actually a lie. He did have something potentially pricey and definitely sparkly in his satchel, but he'd have to be put under a little more duress than this for him to give it up.

If Theo was allowed back to his feet, surely he'd attempt to be on his way, though he didn't know just what horrors laid in wait for him. For a lucky guy, this would be some of the worst luck he'd had in over three hundred years. The conditions were so coincidental and perfect, it would be the worst case of wrong place, wrong time possibly ever.

[804]

Powerlessness was not a feeling Theo had ever enjoyed, especially not in his dark days and the fact remained even as a goofy jello mage. Old instincts had the hairs prickling on the back of his neck, his guts telling him to get up and escape! Even if he had to bounce away, he should get away right this very instant or he was doomed! As she clawed his shirt right off of him, which was highly distressing, he found that his arms couldn't really support his weight after all, not even with adrenaline pumping. He growled at his own inability to act of self preservation. If he was at full strength and well rested, he had little doubt he could get free from this attacker. Alas, he was nothing of the sort. This was turning out to be a no good really bad day.

"I dunno...going home with strangers who step on me on purpose isn't my general practice..." muttered the man, trying to staunch the knee-jerk fear growing for the mysterious assailant. Trying to talk like he wasn't completely at her mercy was a ploy to gag down the panic in his throat. Twisting to catch a glimpse as the girl grabbed his ankle, the glow of saliva indeed caught his eye and his breath. This was bad. Non-imaginary, possibly inescapable things were about to happen, and he wasn't sure his soul could take it again. "Please, let me go! Doormat would like to leave!" he pleaded again, his fingernails digging into the stone and floorboards alike as he was dragged along like a bag of trash. Already they peeled back and bled, splinters and debris lodging in the flesh, yet he clawed anyway if only to leave a bloody trail. The mansion was cold and, even worse, dark. The remnants of his heart, aided by Drathir's touch, started thumping wildly.

Each step knocked a new bruise, brought new blood, and brought a new whimper. Mind racing, Theo feverishly tried to think of a way to escape. This bag was left out near the path he's formerly walked, and it had his iLac. He didn't have enough magical energy to teleport back to the Crystalli. His body was failing him. Even his trump card seemed to be weary and unattentive. It'd have been merciful if the rough ascension to the top floor had knocked him unconscious, but Theo would find no breaks today. What he had done to bring this upon him, he didn't know. Once dumped he flopped onto his back and sat up, scooching backward in a futile attempt to put distance between himself and the white haired girl meaning him harm. Like a cornered animal, he raised a glowing hand with all the intentions of assaulting her with some sort of sugary attack, but nothing happened. Dizziness gripped his senses, but he was still left to suffer the terror awake. "W-What do you want with me? What are you going to do?" asked the drained ace, voice making a valiant effort at stabilization and faux bravery. Jaw clenching rhythmically, Theo awaited verbal confirmation of his fate.


[1325]

How could something so fluffy strike such terror in his heart? The mind was a curious thing. It simultaneously knew the tail she brushed him with was soft, yet under the immense threat he felt it might as well been a cat o' nine tails. Each soft bristle felt like a barb or needle scraping him, as if he needed any hypersensitivity in the face of what seemed to be happening here. The map of scars on his torso told the story of a man well acquainted with pain, but that man had died. This man knew it too well, and deeply loathed it. By the look in this Nightshade Hell Deity's eyes, she knew it as well, but had plenty of it in store for her new toy. Now he knew how the ant felt as the magnifying glass containing the giant malicious eye just before the sun became a laser and brought scorching death.

Flinching from the tail back into the wall, his wide, bright eyes raised to hers with at least a sparkle of incredulous questioning. This Deity cared about doormat's skin care? Was there a right or wrong answer here? If he knew what answer she wanted, perhaps he'd be let go. This was all a misunderstanding, just high pressure lotion sales by an unhinged single mom desperate for rent money? Theo wanted to believe that, he really did. The tiny glimmer of hope he clung to was all he had. So he'd answer in the way that maybe would either get lotion forcefully sold to him, or at least make him seem less desirable for a god's doormat. "Just cheap soap and a sponge...n-no lotion. My skin's pretty rough," he said, attempting a laugh as he tried to play along with his own delusion. It came out dry and more like a whimper. "If you're selling some, I'll gladly buy and be on my way..."

[1646]

Okay, so an aggressive sample pusher. Deep down Theo wasn't this naive, but this seemed to be his best mental defense to deal with what was coming. Firm, pure denial. So much so, that even as her body produced a fairly obviously harmful substance (black goop was rarely a good thing, right?), he ignored the animalistic refusal of such a thing in favor of continuing to play along. The charade was more comforting than anything else he could cling to. Doing as told, Theo reached into the pottle to get a large amount of the substance, slathering it all over his scarred flesh. The tingling was almost pleasant at first, stoking the small flame of hope. The Deity was just a crazy girl with a doormat obsession and overly confident in her product! Just looking for someone to appreciate it. He'd appreciate it! If that meant he could make it home to Rin, he'd do it. He'd been silly to be worried, thinking he'd be breaking a promise not to leave her. It'd shatter the girl, and he loved her way too much to cause her that sort of pain. Making it back to his squad and his home was the light at the end of the tunnel he gripped with emotional white knuckles.

Sadly, any animal knew when it was properly cornered and doomed. Telling himself his ridiculous lies was just prolonging the inevitable. Primal fear of knowing how much strength he normally possessed and the fact that he couldn't call on any of it made him sick. To sit quivering against a wall in an abandoned house while being tormented by a cruel abductor was demeaning, dehumanizing. The onyx haired man was further wracked with fear of the pain he was beginning to feel in place of the tingling. Could he not have mustered up some rage, so that even if he couldn't fight back because he was exhausted, he could have gone out screaming and throwing things at her? Talk the big game, leave this world walking tall and feigning fearlessness? No! His first instinct in his vulnerability was to cower and try to be a 'good boy' and gain favor. Ace material, right there. That's Rising Star guts. What a joke. That was even more dehumanizing. Now with the fear of the pain his friends would feel finding him in death, worse yet they'd find him as his most worthless self. A doormat was worthless! If he piled on any more terror from all his worst fears meeting in one place, Theo was sure he'd choke on them before she had the chance to toy with him further.

As the corrosive venom ate his top layer of skin, his body quivered and his attempt at macho man behavior died before it could get its delayed beginning. A low cry of pain blossomed deep in the jello man's throat, oozing between his teeth and twisting his features. Make the pain stop? If only, but no such kindness was in this hellish spawn. "Just do what you're gonna do already!" he screamed at her, ragged heart fluttering fitfully within his acridly steaming chest. The black vial dropped from his rigid claws, skittering back toward its source. Frigid hues vaguely followed it, noting the new object in her hand. The knife gleamed and made him nauseous, and he vaguely wondered if whatever she had planned for the blade could be any worse than skin slowly being eaten off by acid. Not even his blood and plasma was diluting the concoction. Another mercy of relief thwarted. "Y-your lotion is awful!" egged the nearly convulsing mage, his good natured joking darkening into a desperate jab. The mental aspect of this was just as cruel. As much as he wanted to live for Rin and Lester, he also wanted to just die and escape the pain. Anything to avoid it. The schism was agonizing, as was the guilt it brought.


[2304]

His delusion dissolved, just like that. It crumbled like a sandcastle once the sun's rays sapped it of its moisture bindings, caving in on itself and avalanching from all sides, revealing its fragility and true nature. It'd been foolish to hope for a misunderstanding, to ignore the glaring signs that he was in a very dire situation just to try and save his feelings. What good would something so useless do? The pain of his corroding skin was plenty bad to send the algophobic young man into a cold sweat and induced a completely justifiable tachycardia. The terror of the pain already happening and that promised to come had his chest heaving, as if somehow she'd sapped all the air from the room.

Without all the predator signs glaring, offering to take the pain away would be just as much as a relief as death would be if he wasn't horrified of dying again. Unfortunately for him, his primal instincts were acutely aware that she meant it in no humane way...actually, quite the opposite. Every time she said Doormat Theo flinched, whimpering in pain still with every movement. Once the knife was out, the man seemed to try and shrink into himself, trying to shrivel up or phase from existence. It was agonizingly cruel to know of the hundreds of ways he could get out of this, if only he had a shred of magical power, or even any physical strength. Exhaustion had screwed him over in the worst way.

One swift motion later, his raw skin was against the wooden floor, grainy from lack of cleaning and general abandonment. It might as well be rough toothed sandpaper. A grunt pressed its way from his lips. Adrenaline offered the ability to struggle, but it was in vain. Her last words paused his feeble attempts at escape, before reigniting them with vigor. "W-Wait..What?! No! No no, please. Please! Let me go! Don't remove my nerves! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!" he called in a trembling voice. They were in a wealthy residential area! This house may be left behind, but surely someone would hear his cries and come interrupt. No one came before the cold blade sliced into the tender flesh at his elbow, eliciting a deep scream that dragged along with her blade up and down his arm, to the point that somehow his inhale was a shriek of its own and peppered with choking spasms. Eyes wide and face screwed into a tortured grimace, Theo was helpless but to screech and bleed and cry.

The Nightshade Hell Deity was carving him, and the mental toll that no one was coming for him was paid in blood.


[wc met]

Struggles to get away disappeared the more she cut, the pain paralyzing him and rendering him just as useless as his attacker insisted he was. The bleeding body trembled from trauma and the force of his own horrific shrieks. Where his body drummed up the energy to cry out so loudly was beyond him, as it'd have been nice to utilize it to get away from the agony instead of laying here to take what she dished out. Shock started to set in. The squishy flesh beneath her blade paled to ashen, making the crimson he oozed all the brighter.

Whether it be blood loss or the aforementioned shock, a layer of shivering added to the twitching he already displayed. "W-why...?" the broken Theo bleated, as if he truly became the sheep being slaughtered for the skin rug. The least she could do was enlighten him as to why he was a becoming a worthless doormat. What was the motivation? The angle? Just because? Something so senseless as 'just because' only added to his growing nausea. Urging himself onward, he struggled to form intelligible syllables through sobs. "Why a-are you l-like...this..?"

He'd fought so hard to come back to life. Multiple centuries of ceaseless battle with a demon just to draw breath again couldn't earn him this moment as his last. If anyone knew life was cruel, it was Theo Silversong, but even this was too much. There had to be a tally for crappy things in life, and a limit as well. He had to believe that. Being sold, abused, crime and killing, heart ripped out, causing Tomoe's death, fighting a demon...surely that was all enough. It was enough, right? Right?! Bitter tears burned his eyes, the pressure from his wails transforming every small symptom into a new torment. Just as his life had gained purpose and joy...just as Rin moved in with him and he had a best friend and a team and a family and his retched life grasped a semblance of worth, it was snatched and pummeled back into the realm of worms. If he survived this, what would be left? A worthless sub-human lump, truly no more useful than to wipe the muddy feet of anyone who entered? The more Ambrosia continued on in her physical and mental abuse, the more she chipped the fragile young man. Psychological damage from prologued terror and pain settled in. Not again. Not again. I can't again. His soul was a simple coin of bronze, copper, silver...easily tarnished and dented and depreciated. Rendered worth less than face value...again. "I...I worked so hard....you....yoooou...." howled the defeated ace, unable to finish due to anguished moans.

The noises the human below her made as she plucked out his nerves were hardly classifiable as screams, transcending the term into something much more devastating. Then...it was silent. Did he die? No...it was bizarre to go from so much pain to...nothing. Nothing. The body raced to retain air, though the symptoms of shock remained. Laying there in his own life liquid, breaths coming in short gasps...it seemed a relative calm had fallen. But no. Theo had no former experience to base this sensation, or complete lack of, around. It was like watching a twisted dawning. Fresh horror warped his features. The young mage felt nothing. It was so much worse than numbness. It was just...nothingness. Like his body was no longer there, to the point that his bloodshot ice-blue eyes frantically angled to ensure she hadn't decapitated him. Somehow being able to see his body but not sense it was mind breaking. Physical sensory deprivation was a nightmarish hell, not a mercy. Trying to move was a mystery as to if he worked or not. He couldn't tell. Only by vision could he ascertain that his useless shell was convulsing oddly. Lost to his fresh hell, Theo began the panicked screams and sobs anew, helpless and scared.

Then he fell silent, clammy forehead coming to a hard rest against the floor. There was a pause as his eyes went blank, lids lowering halfway.

"Hiya, tuts," a garish voice sounded suddenly, absolutely even as if not from the anguished creature's vocal chords at all. "Are you one of ours?" it wanted to know. This muffled, floor-smushed voice wouldn't do. With great effort to make his host's body move, Drathir managed to trade the damp forehead resting on the hardwood floor for a cheek instead, angling a carmine eye up at the so-called deity. Sass aside, the intensity of the gaze was enough to deliver the message; Drathir was pissed that this devious twat was sullying the holder of his contract. Anything happening to Theo was bad for both of them, so in the essence of self-preservation, the demon reared his quite charming head to see what could be done while not really being able to physically do anything at all.

It wouldn't surprise him in the least if she hailed from the land down under. He couldn't recall seeing her, but could one ever truly know all the workers at a firm of suffering as large as the Netherworld? So many wings and divisions, departments and positions. Nightshade Whatever-the-heck must have slinked out of the entitled-psycho crazy-pants branch. They did tend to cram a whole lot of crazy into their sexy little packages, so this fit the bill so far. But as the extremes of unlucky and lucky go for Theo, there was no way two demons would be assigned to him in five lifetimes, let alone a paltry two. So if she wasn't a true demon like him, just what was she? A dark mage running for blackest black of the year? Drathir would have to stop thinking this way, or he might fall in love with her. Their babies would bring existence to its weak knees!

That little rabbit trail severed his tenuous connection, and Theo's previously divorced consciousness reconnected for a few guttural screams to break the quiet that had fallen. The young man was mindless in his vocalizations of suffering, out of his senses with fright. Breaths returned to that of a fish nearly too long out of water. This continued for a minute or so, then again he disassociated, allowing Drathir passage back in. "Ahem...sorry about that. I think you were about to explain yourself. Just what are you doing to my human host? He doesn't seem to be enjoying it, if that's what you were aiming for. What's this business about doormats?"

The wickedness in this delicious creature thrilled the demon, and as she leaned closer lips curled in response. "Drathir, Berserker Demon from the Bad Place," drawled the possessor, tone deep and pleasant like a spiced cider spiked with whisky and honey. Cruel and curious hues met hers, and he cursed the useless body he could barely move. Theo lacked the magical energy for him to force a takeover, hence the mess the boy was in, but at least the emergency reserves Drathir kept to himself for emergencies allowed him to speak and maintain life. "If it wasn't exceptionally inconvenient to me what you've done here, I'd be impressed, dear. A doormat is certainly a creative approach to take when dealing with these useless souls. Livestock, you call them. That implies they're at least useful as food..." he trailed, a gravelly chuckle bubbling in his stolen throat. "Too bad they're the only mice in the cage to play with. Gotta be creative or it makes eternity pretty boring," Drathir sighed. Pausing a moment, he peered at the exquisite woman, dark and bright and deadly alluring as adorable poison dart frogs.

Managing to use an arm to feebly prop the otherwise useless body up to get a better look, the contracted demon mulled over just what he'd popped out to say to begin with. This woman's wiles had distracted him...and also modified his first intentions. "From one deity to another, we should meet again. Depending on how Theo turns out, it could be to try and fight you, or join up for some entertainment. What do you say? I haven't decided either way, but it could be exciting nonetheless. I've been cooped up for so long, I need to stretch my legs."

"I'll see if I can get free. I just need him to summon me, assuming he survives. If not...oh, I'll figure something out. This is too good to pass up," Drathir intoned, finding Ambrosia all too alluring in her depraved ways to be too angry. A broken contract would pose some...issues for him, but he was eternal. There were only so many ways to punish him, none of which would really keep him from his work of tormenting souls, indiscriminate destruction, and death. Now, just to figure out a way to contact her. Oh, there was...that... Oof, it seemed the only option.

"Whenever you're free, just peer into a reflective surface and chant my name three times." Bloody Mary move over, Drathir is the real threat of chanting names in front of mirrors. That was comforting, right? Drathir continued on, eager to enjoy the company of a like soul. Intriguing, she'd better not back out or he'd come looking on his own. "It'll contact me, and I'll pop out. How about you? Is there a way to get ahold of you?"