Numbers 96: "Black Mist" (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
numbers96) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
heartlandresort2013-12-05 05:29 pm
numbers96) wrote in heartlandresort2013-12-05 05:29 pm
Entry tags:
come, little birdies
[One of the fountains in the square is acting a bit odd.
Instead of flowing with water, it's dripping with strange, black sludge, mottled with some sort of violet liquid.
Approach?]
Instead of flowing with water, it's dripping with strange, black sludge, mottled with some sort of violet liquid.
Approach?]
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--whatever that is. ]
Do humans not care about sanitation?
[ against his better judgement, he swipes a finger across the edge of the fountain, and stares at the goo dripping down his gloves
(how disgusting) ]
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(of course, something would come to it so quickly)
There's a moment of silence, and then a pair of black tendrils shoot out of the muck in the fountain, aiming to coil tightly around Mizael's wrists and lift him into the air.]
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What the--
[ well, it does grab one wrist: the one he used to swipe at the fountain with
he makes a face at the slime running down his clothes and seethes silently as his glove is ruined. excuse.
but he's got more pressing matters--
like a fountain with tentacles ]
You...! Show yourself!
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And, well, when Mizael is trapped...it will oblige his silly little request.
A column of slime rises up from the basin of the fountain, twisting and shifting into a humanoid shape as colored marks creep across the surface.
Then it opens its eyes, just enough to stare down at Mizael through thick lashes and laugh high and shrill, the sound of it vibrating through its tendrils and causing them to pulse and squirm.]
Ooh~? Are you my new servant, coming to greet his master?
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(wherever here is) ]
You... A numbers!
[ this number is familiar, and he doesn't know why
it reeks of barian world but yet-- ]
You can hardly call yourself a master when you are a servant. Release me, Numbers!
[ he says it like it's some being lower than him
(and doesn't he have a right, because tachyon could tear this number apart without a second thought--)
(if only he could summon tachyon) ]
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[All at once the tentacles lashed around Mizael's limbs tighten their grip like vices, squeeze his limbs so tightly that the bones nearly creak under the strain. There will certainly be bruises.
But it won't break anything. Not yet, at least, not when its new little pet hasn't had the chance to learn its place.]
Ah-ah, little Barian...
I think I'll need to teach you some manners before I break your pretty mind~!
[Another tendril reaches out from the pool to wrap lazily around Mizael's neck.]
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Break, you say.
[ oh he's definitely amused. still frustrated and angry, but amused. ]
You? Don't make me laugh. You don't have the power.
[ he ignores the slime going down his collar and underneath his shirt. he ignores the cold sludge against his warm skin, and the way it makes his human body shiver ]
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The tentacle around Mizael's neck squirms, coiling a little further around.]
Perhaps I'll show, then, rather than telling!
[All at once the tendril wrapped around Mizael's neck jerks forward, aiming to force its way past his lips and into his mouth.]
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[ he only has an instant, but he takes it, and when the tentacles tries to shove itself into his mouth, he bites down on the tip, digging his canines into the slimy, writhing appendage
it can surely try, but Mizael's bark matches his bite ]
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Mist doesn't seem to mind in the least -- it just croons and drifts forward, voice suddenly melting-soft.]
What a disobedient Barian...that's ｎｏｔ ｇｏｏｄ, is it?
Open wide, little bird...
[More tendrils creep from the fountain, little thin ones this time, and this time they hook under his teeth and pry his jaw open so Black Mist can peer into his mouth.]
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the slime is disgusting and slick and dripping down his chin, and it makes him aware of how sensitive this human body is, and it just disgusts him further
(it's weird, having a mouth that opens, that so easily reveals a path inside, instead of closed rock and open gems)
despite his resistance, his jaw is forced open, and the feeling is so alien--as alien as the body he's in--that he just. stops.
stops and wonders what this number could possibly do with his mouth
curiosity killed the bird]no subject
Mm, that's it, little one...
[Another tendril slithers up over its shoulder -- it's thicker, this one, dripping that violet fluid slowly from the tip -- and it pets at it absently with one hand, as if encouraging it in closer.]
You'll be much ｂｅｔｔｅｒ this way...
[The tendril creeps closer, rubbing up against Mizael's chin and smearing oil over the surface, and Mist slips its hands underneath and gently guides it up to press against Mizael's lips.
(the liquid that begins to drip into his mouth is thin and slippery and leaves a slow heat blooming wherever it touches, on lips or chin or tongue where it tastes like fog and dusk)]
Oh, and won't you be a pretty ｐｅｔ?
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(the tendril, though, the way it rubs against his chin, and the way the liquid it leaves behind sticks, and slides, and burns--he inhales deeply through his mouth as some foreign sensation wells up in the pit of his stomach)
He coughs as the liquid sizzles on his tongue, and burns his gums, but it doesn't hurt. It's... soothing, almost. No, that's not the word he's looking for. It's--relaxing. Making him want to stretch his mouth wider for it.
He may be naive about the way his human body works, but. This. He knows how to put the pieces together. He knows it's not good (but he doesn't know why), but that's warning enough for him to want to expel it.
He coughs and exhales, tries to blow the fluid out of his mouth, and pulls against the appendages holding his wrists. He won't stand to just be toyed with like this, while he doesn't fight. His pride suffers.
(he won't be mist's pretty pet)
(he's a dragon, too wild to be tamed, and a star, too hot to touch and too bright to look at)
(and black mist's enveloping darkness is too weak to snuff out his light) ]
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Don't fight like that, little bird...you might hurt yourself~!
[It's gloating already, slotting its relaxed, dripping body against Mizael's struggling, tense form and feeling the erratic rhythms of his body as he tries to free himself, rubbing into him and crooning, because the way he fights is so delicious.]
Drink up, now...
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(he can't let it win)
He takes short breaths--long exhales and short inhales. His coughs serve to help him breathe, too, but each time he inhales it gets closer and it burns more, and it's making him heat up in ways he can't understand. He weakly starts flicking his tongue, too, to do something, anything, to get it out. ]
Haaah...!
[ He pulls hard enough on his wrists that he's able to swipe at the number's hair. He can't quite touch it, but he's fighting, and he's doing something (and maybe it's working), and that is more than enough to keep him struggling.
(his lapis glows and sparks, too, trying to help)
(tries to burn off these tendrils and this number but its power is so weakened in this state, that all it can provide Mizael with is comfort)
In his pulling he intakes sharply, and the liquid goes down his throat. He coughs again, but it won't come out.
His human body reflexively swallows. ]
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It trembles in its bliss, "skin" beading with droplets of purple moisture that eat slowly at Mizael's clothing, and it strokes at his cheeks just shy of where his lips are stretched around the tendril.]
Go on, little bird, go on...
[And then he swallows, finally, and it sighs in contentment, moving one hand down to massage his throat and encourage the same to happen again.]
That's it...drink, Barian, let me in...
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It seems to drain all the strength from him, because he's stopped struggling now, and even if he could he doesn't have the power to anymore. He feels weak and numb and he hates it because Mizael is anything But that. He wants to scream and struggle until he can't anymore, until the starlight fades from his body and he's no longer alive.
(he wants to struggle, he can struggle, but his body won't)
And then the breeze hits his skin and he shivers even more and what is this Numbers going to do to him--
(
the liquid is warm, his body is cold, and some traitorous part of his mind thinks to drink more) ]no subject
(attaching itself, like a parasite, feeding off his weakening mind and adding to its own pleasure)
When it opens its mouth to speak again, the words are layered over themselves, shifting between odd, alien harmonies.]
Ｙｏｕ’ｌｌ ｂｅ ｓｏ ｍｕｃｈ ｂｅｔｔｅｒ．．．
Ｈｕｍａｎｓ， Ｂａｒｉａｎｓ， ｔｈｅｙ ａｌｌ ｗａｎｔ ｔｈｅ ｓａｍｅ．．．
Ｙｏｕ’ｌｌ ｂｅ ｈａｐｐｉｅｒ ｔｈｉｓ ｗａｙ．．．
[Tentacles smooth over Mizael's skin and peel away the scraps of fabric left on him, and one begins to creep up the inside of his thigh.]
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(would he really be better for this? to be under this Number's control and mercy? his pride screams no but his body screams yes and he, himself, is caught)
He inhales again as the tentacle slides up his thigh, and it sends sensations all through his lower regions and what is this Mizael thinks because this is foreign and new and. and strangely. good.
(but then it says ｈａｐｐｉｅｒ and) ]
Mmph...!
[ ｈａｐｐｉｅｒ
That word is a catalyst, and suddenly it's as if his whole body has regained his strength and he's struggling and fighting and coughing and coughing to try and expel this foreign substance.
(
he sees flashes of a golden dragon and high mountains and a temple)(
flashes of white tunics and warm scales)(
and he thinks that's--that's his happiness; on mountains too high to climb, embraced by creatures too misunderstood to be understood--ripped away so quickly that he can't even remember anymore--)He's not going down, not yet, not yet--
(his lapis glows again, almost gets back its usual shine and he tries to shake and get this parasite off of him)
(the smoldering starlight sparks) ]
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unless...
(there's a way to make its hold on this Barian so much fuller, so much stronger)
The tendril in Mizael's mouth gushes liquid one last time and suddenly they're all withdrawing, dropping Mizael's naked body on the wet flagstones as the slime retreats back into the fountain.]
...but, if you won't be good...maybe you don't deserve my power.
Think about it, won't you, little Barian?
[And then its body melts, all at once, and as its mass slips back into the drain the water of the fountain grows clear again.]
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(that was too close, he was too close)
(even now he can still feel its tendrils running over him like a pet being stroked) ]
Nngh.
[ He wipes his mouth and exhales, finally. Next time, he needs to be able to fight this Numbers, and whatever it was planning on doing to him.
(next time? why would he ever come back?)
(some part of him says he has to)
He opens a portal with his depleted reserve and teleports away--preferably to get some new clothes now that his old ones no longer exist. ]