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This is a mature thread. Language and sexual content. Please be aware of this.
Moments before she had been idle. Idly walking, fingering the hilt of her secondary, left hand knife. Her thoughts had been elsewhere, and eyes full of wonders as she breathed in the depths of sweet pastries and buns that lined the stalls. So good, too good for the majority, simply devine and waiting a (rich) open mouth.Quote:
There's a darkness before every dawn, a shadow before any light, and if you see it ... If you catch a glimpse of that first spark, then you have seen heaven.
Karas the Elder, first Scribe of the Kenku council
That had been that moment, one time of being lost in the beauty of her passion and creative art. She had been watching her master, a dwarf turned baker, Skra Drae, dealing with the customers as she stood back and took messages to and from the bakery. Apparently seeing a rare creature such as the like of Avis with a beak and eyes as black as night, with no scelera visible, would cause customer's to shake in their boots. Especially as hardly anybody this side of the ocean knew about or had ever seen a kenku.
Therefore Avis casually became an observer, hiding much of her face in the hood of her cloak, so only a small portion of her beak was visible. It made her feel like a plague doctor, a figure of ill repute whose presence brought disease and she frowned at the thought. But then, she reminded herself that it was merely the lack of experience that these people had that caused them to automatically fear her.
Skra turned to her in a moment of silence, when the scents of the other bakery stalls in the long market place avenue caught their customers' preferred attention. Looking up at the kenku and giving her a small smile she proceeded to hold out a note to her, one that the dwarf had been adding to as time went on.
"We need these fresh from the shop my dear," he said with a delightful tone. "And whilst you are there you should take a break."
"I feel useless standing here," Avis replied, letting her emotions slip into her voice. "Every one of these market days I feel just
... useless."
Skra Drae fixed her with an understanding look and nodded. "They are still not ready for you yet, dear one. The more you observe will grant you all the more skills and knowledge to act with a friendly and warm manner, which will overcome their initial shock at your appearance."
"I've been watching you every Wednesday and Friday for a month now at this," Avis replied, though she took the note.
Skra nodded, "You have, however your still just as brash and as forward as the day I took you in. Now please do as I ask and take the note."
"I'm not brash," Avis argued with a sharp snap of her beak.
The dwarf just smiled at her with a gleam in his eye, and Avis realised she had just proven his point. With a quiet grunt she turned, and pulled her cloak hold down lower over her head, moving to leave by the narrow alley their stall backed onto. Skra followed her with his eyes, a small smile coming to his face as he watched her broad-shouldered and proud stature carry her away. Slowly, he breathed in and for the fourth time that day thanked the gods that he had had the wisdom to take such a skilled baking beauty into his home.
Rolling the edge of the paper between two of her clawed and scaly fingers, Avis made her way down the backstreets of Beinost towards the bakery where she and Skra called home. It was not far from the market street, and was in fact one of a few bakeries nearby, hence the abundance of stalls within the market itself. Each one seemed to specialise in their own tastes, however, and Skra had been the only master baker to accept Avis into his or her shop. It was thus she learnt the finer arts of her skill as taught by her mother, Cassis, all with Skra's signature essence of almond roasted eith, glazed with, baked in, or otherwise cooked within his recipes. Being a dwarf in a largely elven city he himself was not a stranger to ridicule, and thus he had accepted the kenku with little thought, after he tasted what she could do.
Avis had stayed with Skra from that day, in a small flat above the bakery. She had learnt diligently but always kept her fire, storming through his lessons and showing her skill with sure determined promise. So far was she from her people's homeland all the way in Akashima, Corone, that she had little friends here, apart from the dwarf, and the other two employees of his place of profession, the Dwarven Bakery. They were a rough human from the slums of Skara Brae and a stern elf from Beinost itself. On market days those two were left to guard the shop, whilst Avis was the one to run between.
Turning down a corner to gain access to the darker backstreet that would then come around to the courtyard behind the Dwarven Bakery, Avis made to head directly for shadows. The darkness was usually her friend, allowing her to merge one with them due to her plumage. It was down here she went, note now a wrinkled scrap, her cloak flapping behind her, and it was down here she was followed.
When Avis did not return in due time, Skra began to grow bitter more than any other passionate emotion. His narrow lips folded into a thin crumple, and he was forced to pack his shop early due to the lack of supplies. It would cost him a plausible afternoon of good sales, and he began to mutter as he pacakaged away the few remaining pastries and breads, and folded up the table.
"She's probably gone and fallen asleep," he growled, "That or gone off in a huff." He considered this more over the idea of a nap, due to the fact that Avis had been moaning at him about not serving customers directly. He proceeded to continue his muttering as he glared back at the other bakery stall holders who regarded him with mild amusement.
"Watch where your eyes go," he barked. "Lest someone take them from your skull in retribution."
After that they looked away, most of them. One, his greatest rival, an elf darling who went by the name of Myakai, kept on watching, a smile and a laugh beginning. In the past the difference between the elf and dwarf had developed into blows, but the street was too full for that, and Skra hated the stocks. Therefore he ignored Myakai as best as he could and piled up his wears into his cart and set off back down the alley Avis had originally gone, pulling along it himself with two strong arms.
"Stupid crow," he muttered. "Flightless and feather brained. I should never have taken her in, though her skill is good. Damn bird, damn Avis."
Behind him the little cart bumped over the cobbles, the boxes inside rattling against one another. The sound was merry to a point, and to another annoying. This day it was annoying to Skra and he continued to moan. "Damn things. Damn bird. Damn money."
Sternly he stared back at the trailing eyes of the afternoon wanderers who happened to gaze upon him. He made a gruesome face and they quickly turned away. Like this, in a foul mood he continued, thinking that Avis had never done a thing like this before. She had been late, yes, but she had never not turned up after three hours, to the extent that Skra would be left with little to no produce. A very poor stall. Thus there was no precidence and a very grumpy dwarf. So grumpy in fact that he almost missed the crumpled note on the ground.
He would have stepped over it, and passed it were it not for the small corner of a folded piece that shocked him out of his bad mood. As he bent down to gain a better view he saw that it was, indeed, as he had first suspected, his own handwriting. Slowly he bent down, confusion taking over all emotions, and he let go of his cart with one hand to bend down and slowly pick up the paper. As his fingers began to slide the folds back his heart began to hammer.
For it was not just his handwriting but it was the very note that he had written for Avis to take. Take with her to his bakery. Even the eased corner was present where she was prone to roll the paper back and forth until it becamr loose and soft. His lips parted, his anger was all gone. Looking up from the sheet his eyes began to cart around the dark alleyway - but he saw nothing else.
Felt nothing else.
Could hear nothing else, save for the general rumbles of the living city.
"Welcome to the Hollow. Your home, your abode for the foreseeable future."
Finally, her blindfold was removed. Avis blinked fast in the sudden wave of brightness stinging her eyes, and made a slight "ahhh," noise. The colours she saw were white and cream and this made it all worse as she was assaulted from all directions. Reactively she began to raise a hand to defend her eyes but then she realised she couldn't. And all of a sudden she remembered what had happened, at least what she could remember, and what situation she was in.
For one, her hands were tied, and fixed so that she could not move them above her waist, hence able to block the stream of brightness into her eyes. Secondly she was dimly aware of being hustled down a long path for a seemingly endless time - a path including twists and turns and stairs, all the while as she had not been able to see. It was a dim memory too, full of a hazy emotion, as if she had been in a dream and so not quite certain of herself. Her legs had been able to move, but the rest of her had not, and that was something she vaguely understood as she gained some realisation here.
Blinking more she fought against the drowsiness that once more threatened to fall, and tried to see past the light. As she did she began to see shapes, and darker shadows. A point or two of fixed intensity, a moving block of colour. As the seconds passed shapes grew more defined and she came to see that she was in a white room, small but comfortable. There was no furniture apart from an odd looking chair in a corner, there was an off-white windowless door leading somewhere else and then a figure, a man apparently, standing before her. He had a smile on his face. And he spoke.
"Welcome to the Hollow. Your home, your abode, for the foreseeable future."
Frowning a little at the last couple of words, Avis tried to move her hands again, and found them to be quite stuck in place. Looking down she was shocked to see that she was stripped off all her clothes, so that she stood in her feathered glory, small breasts beneath sable keratine, unusually shaped legs beneath fluffy black. Her tail feathers - her short tail feathers - were carefully tucked to the side, and that trussed around her form was a complex series of knots and ties. They pinned her arms to her sides directly, looped over her shoulders, even around her thighs and held her hands together in front of her abdomen in a forced, unmovable position. Below that her legs were free, her feet claws holding up her body. She blinked, quite astounded, at the intricacies involved here - there was actual art in the knotwork, and she tried to think of the moments when she remembered being tied with this much rope.
But she couldn't.
"Excuse me, but what is going on here?" She asked, looking up to the man before her with innocent eyes. He was a handsome fellow, a high elf, with large blue eyes, good form, and a plait dangling over his shoulder. "Last I properly remember I was in an alleyway, taking the note to the bakery and ..."
She tailed off, frowning. That was where the haziness began.
The elf smiled further and nodded. "And now you are here. Congratulations. Your new life begins."
Avis frowned deeper at that. Her hands tugged at the ropes. "Look, I don't really have time for this, I am sorry. Have you perhaps mistaken me for someone else? I need to go and get the items you see, for the stall ..."
"There won't be any stall anymore," the elf grinned now, eyes shimmering. "No more ... Bakery, no more you. Just here. Just the Hollow."
Avis felt suddenly very disturbed by this. If it was a joke, which she presumed this was, definitely it was not funny. Her temper was quite quick to break. Suddenly a suspicion began to form in her brain, and she narrowed her black eyes.
"Are you from Myarai's? Is this what this is? Finally that eager to see what hides under my cloak?" She scoffed, and clacked her beak with annoyance. "Well, this is what I am, traitor. I'm what is known as a kenku, we're really rare. Now let me go and be done with this whole farce."
Gracefully the elf raised an eyebrow and he lost his smile a little. Raising his elbows he folded his arms and stared at her directly. "My employer is not called Mya ... Whatever. And - no, none of that applies to me." The words made Avis confused, and she deeply frowned, for she had been sure that her idea was the actual source. The elf went on. "No I am not a traitor, but I am interested in what you are. Thank you for providing a species name. It will make your introductions to your master more informative."
Avis ground her hands into fists, heavily confused not and very much not liking this entire situation. "I don't want a new master. My baking sensei is good enough, now will you please let me-"
Quickly the elf strode over the distance of the room to her. His feet wore strong leather boots that were hard on the ground, and they clinked as he came right up to her. She gasped as he stepped before her, inches from her and his hand shot out. He suddenly swung out a hand and he grasped - grasped, well there in a most inappropriate manner, that Avis would have slapped him for were it not for the fact her hands were bound. Instead she had to make do with a quick knee movement, catching the man in his own privates.
The man cringed, releasing her as she quickly moved back a couple of steps, leaning as far as the ropes around her would allow into a defensive stance. Her eyes began to darken and her beak snapped as she let out a shocked and horrified hiss. As she picked up her feet she allowed her fine claws there to scrape along the ground, warning him that if he tried anything like that again she would react. Badly. Cruelly.
The man let out a long sigh as he bit past the pain and straightened. To her he gave a disappointed look.
"You could make this so much easier, but at least it's clear that you're exactly the sort of girl they want."
"I don't know what sick joke your pulling," Avis hissed, beginning to tug at her wrist bonds. She tried to squirm her arms, but it seemed that the ropes weren't just wrapped around them. Knots were tied on either side of them, and there connected to her body, so it wasn't a simple idea of twisting underneath the ropes. "But I don't want any part of this. You will let me go now, and return me to my people."
The elf pursed his lips for a while, considering her words. What he said next though, was haunting and unforgettable. "You're not going anywhere, bird girl. You're life as you knew it was over. I and my associates took you from the surface, brought you down here and this is your home. This is your life. Whether you-"
She ran at him, screeching in the most terrifying voice she knew. The voice of a harpy, the call of a defending mother eagle, she darted towards the man, raising her feet claws high, snapping her beak sharp. Her eyes were daggers of hatred and fury, condemning this individual to suffer under her gaze. The elf, being an elf, easily stepped with unusual speed to the side, shaking his head with disappointment and caused her to run straight past him, accidentally heading for where the door was. All she could do was screech and try to dig in her feet claws, as her bound top half threatened to dangerously lean and over balance her.
At that moment the door itself opened. There was the appearance of a tall, slender man, who was clean shaven and smart. He held a thin cane in his hands and as Avis came close his hands moved. The cane slipped out, catching Avis' ankle and over she collapsed, tumbling to the ground.
Letting out a gasp she sprawled there for a while, the wind completely forced out of her lungs. Her breaths were ragged, shaky. On the ground she lay, awkwardly stuck, awkwardly bound. She heard first the soft squeal of hinges, then the small clink clink of the cane touching the ground, and she twisted around her head, beak scraping on the white hard ground, eyes looking upwards to see the new man walking around her.
He sighed, long, as he addressed the elf. "Raevin, please begin to understand the importance of the prelimary few days of my guests. They will always be reluctant, whatever your words and ways are."
Raevin, for that was apparently his name, seemed to be nervous as Avis heard anxious footsteps on the floor. "Ah. Sir. I do understand the importance of them, it was merely that, well, you see. This particular girl thought it was entirely a joke."
The man with the cane seemed to pause, for his tapping stopped and a soft woosh told Avis that he was turning. "So you underestimated her."
"She kicked me in the balls."
Yeah and he grabbed my ... That.
Avis began to push herself up onto her backside again, though she found it extremely difficult in not even having the flexibility of an elbow to rely upon. She made small sounds of scraping and effort that gained the cane man's attention. With another woosh he turned to face her, and she could see him out of the corner of her eye come closer.
The ropes knotted around her back, somewhere near the nape of her neck, were siezed, and suddenly she was hoisted up by a extraordinary strong hand. The force scooped her right off her side, up into the air and onto one foot at least. As her other came down the cane man's clean shaven, perfect face swam into view and Avis was suddenly sure she was looking at some sort of celestial.
Her balance came back. The cane man leant back, letting his thin rod of wood rest back onto the ground. He nodded at her as her entire body was caught between shock, confusion and uncertainity.
"I am Vitruvion. But you may call me 'master'," he pushed his lips into a thin line. "It was I who sent this idiot Raevin out to find you, and thus it is I who will now be responsible for your wellbeing, health, safety and so on."
Avis blinked slowly, her heart slowly beginning to hammer. She tried to take in what he was meaning, but all she could think about was the grasp to her womanhood.
"He ... He ..." She shivered slightly as her eyes unintentionally dropped to her thighs. The part was covered, thankfully, by her natural gorgeous plummage but ...
There came a slow growl from Vitruvion's mouth. "Raevin! What have I told you about taking hold of my guests!"
As the cane man turned, Avis saw the elf cringe, cursing silently at the air. He apologetically looked at Vitruvion. "She wasn't getting the idea of this place ... She didn't understand, sir."
"I do not care!" Vitruvion roared. "Until you become a host, until you gain to the title of brother you do not touch my property!"
As the word slipped out of his mouth, Avis felt a horrible sick feeling sink into her gut. As she looked with wild eyes between the handsome man and the elf the different titles - 'master,' 'guest,' 'host,' and now 'property,' began to fall into place and she began to realise just what deep shit she was in.
"Fuck," she whispered so that nobody could hear. "Fuckkkk."
"But sir!"
"Guaranteed you did exactly as I asked and brought me a unique specimen but this is not yours to touch. She is mine, and so is Blaze and Reign. How many times need I remind you?"
Avis began to back away from the man, glancing over to the door. The man with the cane - Vitruvion - and the elf - Raevin - seemed occupied with their argument. Raevin was sweating slightly, which was odd for an elf, and looked extremely uncertain. His eyes were fixed on Vitruvion, and thus Avis thought ...
"Sir, this is a common issue. I have spoken with the other primary caretakers, and they are agreed!"
"She is mine!"
Quietly she moved, carefully placing her feet talons in a practised motion to not make any noise.
"Sir, the majority of the girls you have here - you ask us all to get them from the street, not even asking them, they're always going to need some initial-"
"That is not the point!" Vitruvion roared, "It is not your right to touch them in a way that is reserved for us!"
As fast as she dared, Avis moved then for the door. It was right by her shoulder and she was sure that if she leant down far enough, she could twist on the latch that was there and allow it to swing free from its ledge. With a twist of her head she managed to grasp something of the balance, and the door - thank the gods it wasn't locked by anything on the other side - began to swing on its hinges.
Thump.
A face outside. A half-orc, she suspected. Avis flailed her claws as she fell back down, and an angry scratch appeared on the orcs half upraised arm and began to ooze red.
Clacking happened, and the frown of Vitruvion appeared above her. Sadly, he shook his head.
"My dear," he said. "This is not a good start at all. Attacking my men is just not decent."
Avis spat at him angrily, her eyes swimming to their vivid darkness, fixing him with that depth-defyint stare.
Sharply, the cane struck against her thigh. It was not hard, but it was not soft either. It was meant as a warning, a caution, and Avis was silenced by it. She knew its meaning, owing to the look in Vitruvion's eyes. She fell quiet, but she did not let the darkness roiling within from disappearing from within her eyes.
The cane man sighed, still not happy. He waved a hand. "Take her to her room. Bound her fully." He looked directly at Avis. "You will be left like that for the entire night as punishment. Any attempt to escape will be responded with punishment from now on. You are mine, may I remind you, and you will stay mine."
She fought.
Naturally, of course she did. It made simple, self-protecting sense to do so, and she did it with fervour. But two lackeys quickly became five, and they grabbed her struggling, wriggling body with tight hands and strong limbs, and lifted her fully into the air.
Carrying her from the white room, they pulled her into a white corridor - a strange, winding corridor. From there, as she managed to make one long brutal wound on a man's face, they headed into another white room, but this one looked like an old tomb with hastily painted walls, all lit by a row of brakceted torches. Her eyes caught glimpses of plain tables, more odd chairs, a barrel of thin canes, before the injured and the angry took her through a last door into a non-white room.
This one had colour, at least. Tapestries hung with rich pattern from the walls, and swathes of material from the top bathed the room in deep red. A grand full-size bed, a finely made desk and a chair were in there as furniture. It was to the bed the men carried her, one pausing to take up some length of rope amongst infinite others that were in piles on the floor, and then on they went.
She screamed, and wriggled and cursed them, but they held her still. One had his hands around her ankles and the rest helped to lash her legs together, joining with the ropes already there and all the while making elaborate knots. Opening her beak wide she called down the curses of all the gods upon them.
None of them laughed. Instead they looked on with impassionate eyes, and bound her legs like her body above. Her feet they left alone, uncertain what to do in the circumstances. One of them muttered low a suggestion as he looked at them, and then his companion nodded. They paused for a moment before one man left, and returned with thinner bonds of rope. This they cautiously wrapped around her front three toes of each foot, binding them all the same. She spat and she roared, and they tied the tail end of one of the current rope to the bedstead. Then, as one they stepped back, leaving her there trussed up like some ancient Fallien mummy, the kenku who would be a baker. She tried to kick her legs apart, but they were as tightly bound as her arms. Her hands - they were barely able to move themselves.
She felt her chest restricting, as if the ties already right around her chest were getting tighter as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed. She death glared, death stared and death gazed, but none of the men looked into her eyes. Together they turned, as one they moved away, out from around the bed and towards the open door to the red room. She barely heard the loud click of the door lock scraping shut, as she yelled to the ceiling.
There as a moment, and then she was plunged into darkness as whatever light had been there flickered out.
The night was full of fitful sleep.
As far as Vitruvion's description had gone, spending the night bound so tightly as Avis had was a punishment indeed. The natural want had been to toss and move in the night, but there was little place to move. The most she could do was turn on her side and bring her legs up slightly to curl into a loose foetal position, but that was merely it. Any further and the ropes would begin to strain and chaff and she would be in pain. Going far also was near impossible, for the binding to the bed restricted how far she could get. In the terror of darkness, when the hours had dragged on, she had realised she needed to releave , and it was only by scooting over to the side of the bed and awkwardly and painfully sitting up that she managed to aim into a chamber pot situated there.
Morning came and she was silent, and had barely slept. Her eventual exhaustion state had made her manage a couple of small naps, but that was all. Eyes half closed and she was lying on her side, back to the door, breathing slowly and steadily. Her mind was mostly dull, her tiredness overwhelming, and so she barely heard the door open and the faint clack clack of the man coming over.
Swimming into her vision Vitruvion's form appeared. He set a chair by the side of the bed, and into he sank, dressed in a sharp black tunic and leggings. He was hazy to Avis but she knew it was him, even just by the faint glory he seemed to radiate. She could spy one of the larger tapestries dominating the wall behind him, the main colour the same rich red as before. And now she could see a light source - a tall burning torch in the corner of the room, caught in a holder, pinned against the wall.
"My dear?" His chocolate voice murmured.
Avis let out a soft moan.
He sighed. "My dear. Awaken now and concentrate on me." His tone was sharper, more insistent.
One of her eyes opened fully, and fixed on his face. Her breathing was shallow and slow.
A soft, satisfied smile passed across the man's face. Once, he nodded and positioned the cane between his two legs holding at the top.
"Good morning, my dear. I trust your sleep was not satisfactory."
Her beak opened slightly and her eyes flashed dark as she swam to consciousness. Vitruvion smirked a little.
"Just so. Now. Yesterday I believe began with distasteful beauty, and so I am now coming to explain things. Once I have done we will see where your attitude lies once more and I shall decide whether or not your punishment shall end." He looked right at her. "Alright?"
Avid barely registered an understanding. All she wanted to do was tear off this man's face with her own beak and that was impossible right now. Vitruvion waited a pregnant moment before taking silence as her acceptance of the conversation. Reclining slightly in the chair he gave a pert nod before going on.
"As you have no doubt learnt this is what we rather blandly, if you ask me, call The Hollow. It is a network of an ancient catacomb that ran beneath a part of the city, made long, long ago." He waved his hand, dismissing the explanation. "Anyway, now of course, my hosts and I, also known as my 'brothers' and I use this place to foster our community. Each of us has his own interests, and intrigues, but all share a delight of the bold and unrelenting guest."
He gave her a splendid smile. With features such as his the beam was resonate and heart warningly inviting. In any other circumstance Avis would have run straight for him, but now ...
He went on.
"You are to join my party along with my two other ladies, Blaze and Reign. You will meet them later, when I feel you are settled enough to be in a duet." He ran his thumb down the side of his cane. "I had another, Hope, but she became ... Well. She is no longer under me. And one of my brothers has taken an interest in Reign. Thus we have agreed to share her, and so I needed another. Raevin found you, managed to transport you here..." He gestured elegantly at her. "Thus, you are here."
He scooped back a strand of hair in front of his face, and looped it behind his ear. His hair was long, blonde like a field of golden wheat under a summer sun. Avis narrowed her eyes slightly, hating herself for constantly being distracted by his appearance but still said nothing, disgusted by nearly every word.
"Now it is tradition here that we and the men name you based on a first impression we have of you. Blaze is called so for her infamous fury and her connection to fire, and Reign is called so for she is the heir to her people, and acts as queenly as one can be." He smiled. "She is a type of rare Fae called a pixie. You may have heard of them." Avis didn't respond. He frowned slightly, but went on. "Now, coming to yourself. My men, and myself, have agreed that what struck us about you at the beginning, was your gaze and your eyes, thus," he grandly spread a hand. "Thus, you are 'Stare.'"
He leant forwards slightly, waiting for her reaction. Avis only growled very low and glared with intense incredulity.
Vitruvion let out a brilliant cry. "Ah ha! Indeed, exactly as I thought. A most excellent name. Thus, you a name, my dear Stare. Welcome to your new home."
He fell silent, relaxing back with aboslute pleasure. Irritated that her look was giving him joy, Avis tore her eyes away from him and turned to face the corner of the wall, where it met the ceiling, and she tried to lose herself in the dead voices of dullness in her head.
"I take it that you like-"
"My name is Avis," she interrupted him in a dark, low voice.
Vitruvion was silent for a moment, and then he answered, his tone becoming uncivil, blunt and hardened.
"No it is not. Not at all. Your name is 'Stare'. To me, to the men, the other women here... Everyone. And if I ever hear you mention the fact you have another name or that name ever again, I'll have you tied here for a week with no food and with drugs to keep you wide awake that entire time, am I understood?"
Avis caught her breath in her chest. One night had been hard enough trussed up like this, but one week... And not able to sleep. She was sure that was near torture if she was honest.
"Stare?!" His eyes were like fire, his tone a thousand threatening knives.
She did not look at him. But her head, and her beak - she dipped it once. A short, staccato note of acceptance before his fury broke truly through.
There was the sound of a small sigh. "Good. Very good. I appreciate all my direct questions being answered straight away. It is one of my 'rules', those things that irritate me the most, that you should never be inclined to do, 'less you wish to suffer my immediate wrath." Even without looking at him Avis knew that this threat was a real one. Vitruvion was serious enough and cruel to not be underestimated.
"Now, your duties will run on a basis of if I wish to see you or not. Some days I will, others I will not. Some nights, when you become trustworthy enough, I will spend here, with you, and some days you will not see me for three or four at the time. Now," he rolled back his shoulders and he took a more comfortable position again. "Your standard duties will be the regular daily entertainment of myself, but over time this may alter. I may need you for an important meeting, or for a journey I must make, to do things such as serve my dinner or other. You will do anything that I request of you, and in return I will be good to you and we shall have a pleasant life together."
A shiver ran slowly down Avis back as she bit back a mournful, wailing cry. As Vitruvion went on, she began to feel more and more in despair, her thoughts lost to the endless tide of the hopeless. For a while the handsome man watched her with a great amount of intrigue, as if he wanted to know and see what was going on in her mind. He leant forwards slightly, nearing her.
Silence. Eyes locked.
He leant back again, shaking his head. Quickly he began to get up, leaving things as they were. "After this conversation ... I deem that you will stay here for another four hours, then I will send my men for you and we will begin discussion on your main every day duties here."
After those words he began to stand, scraping back the chair for a moment, and then taking it by the back to start to carry it. It was as he moved to walk away that Avis decided to speak.
"I want out. Now. I don't want to be part of your sick fantasy."
She growled the words, snapping her beak with finality.
Vitruvion paused for a moment, and then he swung back his head to look at her, a sparkle in his eye. "My dear Stare, that is exactly why I will not let you go. That is why I will keep you here for your foreseeable future."
* Four hours and a pee later. *
They came in with loud voices. Quite discussing what, Avis could not tell, but they chartered noisily to one another, laughing about various things. She turned slightly onto her back to watch them head towards her mummy-like bound body and was rather irritated to see that there were still five of them.
She clacked her beak together with unease.
One wrinkled his nose up at the fresh urine and rushed from the room, leaving four there for the moment. With practised hands the rest immediately set upon her. For the sake of not being able to squirm for the first part, she ended up waiting until the knots on her legs and upper torso were either untied or at least loosened before making her attempt.
She kicked once, out in a fluid motion, catching one rogue on the nose. Though her toes were tied together they still made a satisfactory weapon, the claws still scraping flesh away. With a swing of a shoulder she then moved to clobber another to her side back. There was a sickening crunch as the nose gave way and a yell as the man to her side staggered back a little. Her mind thought, two down and two to go, as she sat up fast, a gleam beginning to appear in her eyes.
Thwump.
Very swiftly she was forced back down by a hard piece of wood slammed against her shoulders. It was long and thin, an immitation of Vitruvion's cane, but just not possessing the finesse of the beauty's glory. At the end of the stick was Raevin, staring with mad lust at Avis, and she stared back, fathomless depths of hatred roiling.
She tried to strain against his hold, by both pressing against it and moving up and down. Raevin though, frowned and put more pressure on the simple stick, gesturing to the other men who paused, but then continued their work. One man very firmly held her ankles as the others continued to work. Avis could feel the drops of hot blood landing on her delicate lower feathers.
"I hate you," she hissed at Raevin.
The elf just smiled pleasantly. Twisting her head she snapped suddenly for his forearm that held the stick over her shoulders. He winced a little as the sharp sides of the swift dart scraped his skin, but his reflexes allowed him to move so that the full blow - likely disengaging hand from arm - did not occur.
Gesturing he motioned for the man who had returned from emptying the chamber pot to come over and take over command of the stick. Avis eyed Raevin with intense incredulity we she watched him, wincing herself as she felt fresh sudden new bonds being drawn across her belly. Hands slipped under her back, dangerously close to her buttocks and she squeaked in distaste as they did.
As she closed her mouth from that squeal, Raevin made his move. He darted forwards, rope in hands and without her noticing until the last moment, slipped a loop down the length of her beak.
Avis froze and gasped, rather shocked by the entire thought of a piece of something that she did not desire even coming close to her pride and joy beak. The shock was continued, however, as the stick was suddenly removed and then - then she was literally turned over by the many hands wandering and holding her form.
Screeching, she kicked as much as she could and fought. With her legs still inbound they only had hands holding them. She felt one of her hands manage to dodge out of its fistful hold and batter someone in the shoulder or upper arm. One man. Another five.
Thick ropes this time pulled her hands behind her back and sharply bound them together. Raevin used the opportunity to continue with his task, and he swiftly moved the pieces of his rope to bind them behind her head. He used other lengths to add further strength, tightly holding in the loop of rope around her beak to a nasty, disgusting extent.
With horror in her eyes now, Avis found herself with a curl of rope resting around her beak about two thirds of the way up. She could still open it, but barely, just to the smallest extent to let out quiet words and strangled sounds. So she could speak but her act of using the beak as a snapping weapon was severely diminished.
Savagely, she hissed at Raevin, cursing him in mumbled words, and he just grinned. He stepped back, taking back the stick and nodded to the men. They carefully lifted up the muzzled, but less bound kenku into the air and held her as they carried her, squirming and bucking, into the next room.
"Over there first," Raevin gestured somewhere that Avis could not see.
She was unceremoniously carried over to a corner of the room with tables and chairs. Avis heard the quiet screech of hinges before she was placed down. It was then she learnt the reason for her feet still being untied and she began to gasp, kicking with all the effort she could muster.
"Fuck you all!" She yelled as far as her muzzled beak would allow.
But six men. Five when Raevin could not be bothered. And her hands bound behind her back. Tightly. They set her on the ground, on a soft but thin cushion for her behind, and then set her ankles into half circles on a grandly designed plank of wood. The other half came down with another quiet screech, locking her ankles into the stockades. A padlock later, and Avis was forced to face the humiliation that she could not pull out her feet from the thin holes surrounding them, and she could do very little movement as heavy iron loops were suddenly passed over her wrists at the back and her hands forcefully anchored down to the ground by an unseen force.
Probably lackeys with some simple cuffs and a lock.
Still not the nicest of situations. Avis ground her teeth and tried to budge, but as per her experiences so far, it was to little avail. The men stepped back, letting go of her entirely, and the majority of them simply turned their backs and began to head out of the room. As Avis glared around, clicking her tongue angrily against the inside of her beak, she saw them begin to continue their conversation once more, laughing and jostling and completely ignoring her.
That was perhaps what offended her most of all.
"Hey!" She cried, her yell more of a caw than anything. "Hey! You can't just - what is this?!"
"This is your life."
Raevin's voice purred in her ear. Rapidly, she glanced around from where his voice had come from. She saw him and another remaining man hovering beside the stockade where her legs were held. Beyond that, she was disturbed to see even more stocks, of different sizes, models and forms, some made from metal so they were just thin bands on metal poles. A table behind had more piles of ropes with an ordinary chair behind.
"This is not my life. I didn't choose it!" She argued.
Raevin shrugged. "That is kind of the point, Stare."
Avis' breath caught in her chest. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and she began to hiss. "That is not my name."
"Yes, it is," he looked at her seriously. "And you better learn that. Of all things, that is one thing you have to learn, otherwise the consequences are not pleasant."
Thoughts passed through her mind of what Vitruvion had said. A week bound with no food. Forced awakedness. Her eyes narrowed.
"I hate you."
"I know," Raevin shrugged - and then he hunkered down. By him the other man left - a pale human by the looks of his ears - also crouched, picking up something from the floor.
There was a pause, then hands moved. A foot was grasped, fingers sliding along her scaly skin, touching the fine twine still encasing her long slender toes. Gasping in a small voice Avis stared in horror as the man moved forwards with his other hand, something shiny within. She blinked back simple mournful tears as he began to clip her beautiful elegant claws, only by a small amount but going snip, snip, snip to trim them off fine and unsharpened.
One foot, then the other. And Avis could do nothing about it but shiver and crow in a pitiful way quietly. For a beak and claws were the pride and joy of a kenku, along with their glossy feathers. For Avis, however, daughter of a proud senshi warrior it was her claws as her natural weapon that she was most proud of.
Raevin beamed up at her with a horrible smirk. "Well we can't have more accidents like Leonard's face occuring, can we now?"
Avis death glared him. He waved and stood straight. He motioned to his inferior and the man nodded.
"Tell Vitruvion she is ready," he said in a cool calm voice.
"Blerghh," Avis swore back.
"Indeed," said the elf. And he twirled his stick in his hands.
The young man nodded again to Raevin, and with a small glance at Avis he turned away. He hurried out of the door that led into the long white corridor, leaving Avis there in the room alone with Raevin once more.
She turned her beak away, snapping it with distaste lightly for that was all she could do.
She looked around the room, as far as her positioning would allow. It was relatively large, with various other doors coming off it. One, she knew, marked out with fine panelling, led to the corridor, and another to the back, that had a small narrow window in it, now she saw, led the bedroom she had spent the night in. A further three doors moved from this room, two on one side and one opposite. One had a window, the others did not and had a form of uniformity to them, as if it had all been built at the same time. Altogether the entire place was white, tiled as it happened from floor to ceiling. The only thing stopping Avis from getting cold was the cushion she was on. Various other tables and chairs, with what she figured now were ready and waiting bindings attached to the arms and legs and back, were scattered around, making this entire piece seeming like the storehouse before a grand hall. Many ropes dangled in places, and it was these that Avis found most disgusting.
The door finally opened after a long moment of silence and the clink of a cane announced Vitruvion's presence. He paused a moment as he swung around to take in the sight of Raevin and Avis, one standing and the other sitting and he sighed a while. Shaking his head he called a name, "Bertran!", And the man from before who had so cruelly clipped Avis' claws scurried in.
"Take her into the Lounge, and I said the wrists, not the ankles!"
"We did it to file down her claws, sir," Raevin said in a rushed voice. "And I thought that you would ..."
Vitruvion stared at his underling for a time, and the elf grimaced but nodded. "Yes sir."
The elf, and the pale human, Bertran, took in a collective breath and moved onwards to Avis. She went immediately on alert, breathing quickening as she glanced between them and Vitruvion. The grand beautiful man smiled gloriously at her, with a glimmer of intent in his eye. As Raevin came behind her she prepared herself to begin bucking as swift and hard as her current strength, be it on a period of her not eating for some considerable time now. Gathering her strength she readied herself for that moment when her ankles would be out of the stockade, and her hands freed from their iron-bound position. The two men moved, one to either side and her heart began to beat, hopefully and splendidly, wits awakening, eyes dancing, ready, ready, ready ...
"Stop."
Immediate frowns. And all eyes, including Avis' turned to look at Vitruvion. His own pupils were fixed upon Avis, narrowing slowly as he took steps towards her. He stared at her with thoughtfulness and curiousity, pausing before he bent down. Never did his gaze stray from her. Not even as he moved forwards and very calmly brought up a sparkling collar, seemingly, apparently from the thin air itself. Avis barely had time to dodge before the glorious man, robed in black, flicked the strange metallic object open, and then shoved it around her neck. The surprisingly chillingly cold material touched her feathers and Avis could do nought but gasp in complete shock.
Click. Clunk.
Vitruvion stood then, breaking their eye contact. Avis was left with the terrible frigid sensation of the collar feeling it even through her fabulous plumage, now solidly around her neck. As the feeling began to surround her, feeling like a blanket of dullness and darkness, and her sight began to grow hazy, Avis saw a thing chain, made of the same glistening material, go from under her chin, over to Vitruvion's hand.
"What?" He looked with a smile to his men. "I saw her intent to escape. This will allow the girl to accept the fact that she is, and forevermore will be, mine."
"I'm, I'm not ..." Her words tumbled from her mouth, and fell to silence as Avis gasped and gulped through the chill. It felt as if she had collapsed into a lake, covered with ice in the head of Salvarian winter, and had no chance of escape.
"My dear Stare, you are mine," Vitruvion spoke with a voice like a melody. "Now you will come."
Her hands were then freed from their iron prison, and her clipped feet from their wooden one. The elf and the human moved to her side, adjusting her into a standing position as the chain, and the gods-what-the-fuck freezing collar were tugged, hard, so hard.
"Annnhhh!" She mumbled, as she crashed forwards, tugged and forced. Fighting is what she wanted to, and it was what she longed for most of all the ability to continue but that, the cold, the horror, the face ...
It pulled again, and she was careered forwards. Biting against the pain, Avis stumbled under the guide of Vitruvion's chain and the stiff hands of Bertran and Raevin. Onwards, though her mind screamed at her for letting them treat her like this, and her body fighting, they took her. Over the floor, through a door, into another white tiled, but sumptuously decorated room.
Scattered footsteps and the tight chain leading her on, an inability to put up little more of a fight other than an awkward step here and there. After all, her hands were bound tightly behind her back, and her beak was closed most of the way. Hands held the rest of her, feet kicked her ankles to the correct directions.
She felt a bump and her hips came to something. A pause and she was pushed back - her sight was still hazy so she could not exactly see entirely - then forwards she was pushed again. Up she stumbled, up onto a small step, so the thing now butted against her waist and she could be bent, bent down. The chain and the hands pushed her down ...
Movement and feelings. Suddenly, the collar was removed, and Avis felt warmth flood back into her body. Reality, happiness, satisfaction, and she let out a gasp as her body was heated once again and her sight began to swim back with the hold on goodness and -
Chafing against her back told her more ropes were being applied. She twisted her head to suddenly see that she was leaning now over a wooden desk, it's legs heavy and ornamental. Large lion like feet , expertly carved, to which she saw her own foot pulled towards and trussed up against, with a weaving pattern of ropes.
Her heart began to hammer, and her eyes went huge. Twisting her head left and right, she saw knots now forming just beneath her shoulders, tied tight and strong. Opening her beak as wide as she can she began to shriek, realising that it was the desk she was tied to, it was her form they were bending, it was -
"You can leave," Vitruvion's voice commanded.
Avis twisted around back the way she had first looked to see the man preoccupied with teasing off a black stole he currently wore. Raevin, at the corner of her sight, tugged on a last piece of rope and then curtly nodded. He gestured to Bertran and they both bowed before turning. Avis' eyes stared with terror and horror at Vitruvion as he began to remove then a pair of fine pale gloves from his hands, a band holding back his hair. He barely looked at her as he walked slowly to be behind her.
"The day has been long and dreary. I had to speak at length with Hugin ... One of the other 'brothers' that I have," she heard the sound of his cane scraping along the ground, and then finishing. "He is not the one who has an interest in Reign. Rather, he is the other who shares an interest in the more unusual races. One might be confused, for he is simply a human. Just an ordinary race." He paused. "I am what they call a half-celestial, in case you did not know. It is partially my power that ensures the security of this place, the might of it. That collar of yours, for example, is of my ability."
"It's not my collar," she whispered, her voice shivering and tiny.
His leather boots twisted in the tiles, creating a soft sshhhh sound. "It is yours for when you will not get from one place to another, as I bid. When I have not the patience, nor the time, to deal with your resilience. Confidence and a lack of submission ... I find that attractive, and so long as you fight then we shall have a relationship. After that ..." He paused. "Well let me simply advise that you do not. Have a stable equilibrium between your fight and your obedience and then all will be well. Let me advise that I am the only host that I know of who warns his guests of this, the ultimate rule of the Hollow, but it is because I care about you."
"Care my ass," Avis shakily replied, defiant but filled with anxiety.
The sounds stopped. No twist of leather on floor, no murmur of words. Not even the breath could be heard of the half-angel as he took in her words. Avis did not know where he stood, for she could not see him, either from one side or another. Seconds past. An age past.
Then he struck.
A whistle of wind, of high-pitched movement of object through air. Avis bound her eyes tight shut.
Pain - harsh, real, brutal and angry - was as hard wood met feathered back. Savage and raging the sounds of boots moving fast, dancing and stepping, joined in the cacophony of her sudden and muffed cries and the repeating slam of the cane against barely protected flesh. The din rose as the man who was more half devil than half angelic, slammed the cane again and again into her lower back and backside. Again and again, again and again, more frustration than desire, more fury than passion. There was no intention to let out his lust or to raise her into the spirit of the times and place. It was simply power, strong and definitive, an exploration of self and control. As her screams rose he drank in the energy of them, and willed on, onwards Vitruvion went.
On into the minutes. On into the hours.
Afterwards, when she had stopped screaming, all the cries and energy dribbled out of her, Vitruvion had his way with her. He kept her how she was, filling his lust and desire by where he had placed her. And when he was done, he left, picking up his cane from the floor to stride his way out, satisfaction gained on his behalf. He left her shaking and feeling empty, as empty as the name of the hell she was in.
Hollow. What an apt description.
For what seemed like hours they left her there. It was only in the dead of silence, when her broken body had finally allowed her to begin to drift to sleep. Hands claimed her, fewer than before and they unwrapped her sorry form from the table. Silently, they carried her, through doors and the room, back to the place she would soon come to know as hers. The ropes they took away - even that around her beak and her wrists - only adding a single cold manacle to her ankle, binding her again like the previous night to the bed.
Comfortably thus, hungrily and in agony Avis slept, her exhausted body dragging her into the depths of unconsciousness. Part the way through the night she made the mistake of turning onto her back - and that made pain rise like a red storm and awaken her, screaming. Memories passed through her mind, flashes of images, before she sank back down into a pit of slumber.
It must have been late into the next day when she awoke. It was slow to begin with, eyes blinking long and slow. A gentle yawn, a rubbing of the eye; certainly the bed here, provided she was given enough flexibility, was good enough to provide a very good night's sleep. Though Avis suspected the reason behind it was more to do with the fact Vitruvion might, at one time, sleep in there also. Her mind thought of the man, his features and his eyes, and she pictured his beauty in her mind's before she shivered and replaced the awe for hatred. Hatred for what he had done to her. The most horrible thing was, though she would never dare tell anyone now, was that she was a virgin. Or had been.
As she mused, her eyes wandered, sleepily. Avis was caught out, however, when she realised that she could see a figure sitting to her side in exactly the same pose and chair that Vitruvion had the day before. Freezing, there and then, stuck in fear, Avis' heart beat manically, and she refused to even think ...
"Ah you are awake."
The voice as definitely not his.
Avis looked over to see what was a tall, blonde woman leaning back in the chair. Perhaps about mid-thirties the woman was strangely beautiful, eeriely so. Quite aburptly surprised, Avis moved, suddenly liking the fact she had a natural covering that allowed her to be naked as well as discreet.
"Who are-" Avis broke off as she tried to sit up to fast. Pain lanced up her back, born from the day before, terrifying and strong. She groaned heavily, hissing in pain.
"Damn it," she swore, letting herself fall back down. Heavily she breathed, swallowing against the throb of constant agony she now found to be there.
The woman smiled gently and shook her head. "You rest, Stare. I'll do the talking." In a fluid movement she pushed herself to her feet. She moved like an exotic dancer, sashaying naturally so that the long silk dress she wore swirled from side to side like a palm tree in a breeze. Avis grunted and tried to sit up again, the two pieces of her beak squeezed tight together.
"My name is Vintrua. My brother is Vitruvion, your master."
As soon as she said it, Avis nodded, seeing the similarity immediately. The way that she moved, looked and spoke had the same glorifying quality, and she exumed such a warm atmosphere that there was no other expectation but them to be siblings. Avis strained, groaning as she continued to try to sit up, and was honestly surprised when Vintrua came forwards to place an arm at her back and support her as she helped her to sit back against a cushion.
Avis collapsed back by the headboard, letting out her pent up breath in one. Gasping, she blinked a great few times as her eyes wandered first to the metal around her ankle, then to the strange woman. Adoringly, she was beautiful and perfect, inviting Avis in to be her companion for life.
"What are you doing here?" Avis panted. "If your his sister, then what... You're a female, he ..."
"As a sister to a host," Vintrua explained as she sat down. "I am protected from ever being brought here. Anyone who dared to to so would face death at Vitruvion's pleasure." She gave a gorgeous smile. "In that case I decided some time ago to support my brother's exploits and business. When I heard that he had managed to get himself a kenku ... Well. I knew I had to come see you."
"How can you even come here and be happy with what goes on?!" Avis asked, incredulous. "You are a woman after all."
Vintrua looked offended. "I am a woman, yes, but that means nothing. These men have their pleasure, need to get their pleasure. It is not my fault you were the one who was found."
Avis stared at her long and hard. Her eyes were brutal, condemning and Vintrua bit her lip as she gazed right back. The half-celestial smiled.
"Your fire is a gift. Keep it burning, and my brother will treat you well."
"Treat me well?!" Avis snapped. "Have you seen what he did to me?"
Vintrua nodded, looking none the more shocked. "Yes ... But it his right as your master to do what he sees fit. He was angry, he finds pleasure in the cane and satisfaction. Everyone has their own desires, and this is his."
The kenku shook her head, looking away disgusted. She could barely understand Vintrua, able to accept what her brother did and be fine with it. Even if she was supportive of him it did not mean that she had to be supportive of his acts. In truth, Avis had not expected to see another female here, save the other 'guests,' aka sex slaves, for that was what she was, she admitted to herself, so Vintrua was a confusing anomaly. A strange sight. A ... Hated horror.
"I don't get it," she murmured, deciding that it was useless to try.
"Lean forwards, and I will heal your wounds," Vintrua gestured, standing again. "Vitruvion wants you tonight and it would be better if you are healthy."
"Well I don't want him. And I haven't eaten in two days," Avis snapped.
"Then I will arrange that you get food. One of Raevin's boys usually does the collections from the communal kitchen, but he likely has not gotten to you as you are new. I will make sure he brings you food daily." She paused, still waiting for Avis to lean forwards, but the kenku did not budge. "Please move."
"I don't trust you," Avis glared at her once more.
"I know, but I'm not exactly going to hurt you more. I have no reason to, do I? My interests lie with my brother and he is wanting to keep you for as long as possible."
Avis glared at her for a short while longer, but she knew that the beautiful woman was right. Besides, the longer she waited, the more unlikely it would be that Vintrua would not offer and that could lead to more pain, especially if word reached Vitruvio ear. Avis had a suspicion rising that if one was dishonourable to Vintrua, they would not last long here.
Therefore, praying to the kami with a quick cantrip, she rocked forwards very slowly, pain lancing up her spine. She ground her beak together, groaning through it with pain.
Quickly, Vintrua stepped forwards, and brushed a fine, soft hand down the soft feathers of Avis' back. The touch was brief and mellow, and had a subtle coolness to it, so much so Avis began to actually feel peaceful for a moment. The touch was fleeting, moving down towards her rear, where the hand hovered, considered, and with the lightest of extremely brief touches curved over them to the bed itself.
Blinking, Avis glanced up at Vintrua, confused. The glow and temperature had gone, the faint feel of her fingers on her coat. Then, then Avis suddenly felt a burst of energy and a cold tingling sensation rippled up her back. It touched every joint and crevice that had been harmed by the cane, rippling like a cool noon tide, or a pebble dropped in the ocean. It spread out, reaching and glorious, prizing apart her body and remodelling it back together as the freeze chased the pain away, then disappeared itself, settling back into a low, throbbing ebb that slowly disappeared. No more pain.
With a satisfied sigh she leant back, and mumbled a reluctant, "Thank you," to Ventrua. The half-celestial woman smiled and resumed her seat.
"You see. I am to be trusted."
"I am not automatically now going to trust you because of that," Avis retorted, but her tone was fairly soft.
Ventrua let out a light laugh. "I know. Don't worry, your by far not the first guest my brother has had that I have spoken to." She smiled. "You'll like Blaze. She has a good heart and a brightness in her that cannot be denied."
"Hmm," Avis breathed hard, clacking her tongue on the inside of her beak. She didn't really care for Ventrua, and so wasn't going to take her advice on this one.
She paused a little before leaning very slowly forwards. Testing the ability of her back, she found that indeed the pain had gone, though there was still some tension, and she extended a hand to finger the band of metal around her ankle. Scratching at it with a claw she twisted it until she found a small hole, and dug her claw in. There was a faint scratching sound, but no movement at all. Moving to simply try to tug at the chain, she gave it a mighty pull before the linked restraint gave a bright and full tinkle.
"They make their own metal here," Ventrua said in a voice like honey, "It is more durable and stronger than any they know. Heavy, so it is not practical for weapons, but for you ..."
Avis twisted her head to glare at her with a viscous angst. Ventrua gave her a pleasant smile. The stare lasted some time, before the kenku grunted and gave up, letting go of the chain and sinking back onto her bed.
"I guess there's no chance in asking you to help me escape."
"None what so ever."
"Yeah." Avis folded her arms, a foul look on her face, at the corners of her beak and in the darkness of her eyes.
"I mean .. you could ask and you could attempt while I am here, but I'll report it to my brother."
"So lovely of you," Avis drawled.
Ventrua winked. "I know, darling!"
The half-celestial stayed with her for sometime, eventually pulling out of Avis information of herself. Knowing that it was either talk, or be left in loneliness forever, Avis eventually opened up. The way she saw it, by at least playing to Ventrua's likes, it would put her in good stead with Vitruvion. Apparently something was occurring in Ventrua's mind to let her like Avis, as she got up half an hour into the conversation and went to get Avis food herself. The kenku devoured it hungrily.
And told her of her past.
She told her about her older, but young at the time, brothers, who had been called up when she was just an infant to war. Owing to their father's grand warrior prowess a lot was expected from them. She told her that unfortunately they never lived up to the expectations however, and between them and their father trying to rescue the sons, the war was lost owing to Avis' family - the Tsakaka. She also told her of her family's time in the wilderness, as one of the kegareta, the classless and shogun-less, and of her father's death. Then she told her briefly, of her mother and her great skill in baking, that which had given Avis her own baking passion. In memory of her mother, a fighting spirit in memory of her father. Twin daggers in honour of the brothers she hardly met.
"I see," Ventrua nodded, when Avis had finished. "So you are still looking out for revenge."
"I'll never get revenge against the shogun of the flock I was born into," Avis said, looking directly at her. "That is very unlikely now."
Ventrua slowly shrugged. "You don't know what opportunities being a part of this world might lead you to. My brother has business outside of here you know, and Blaze has certainly gone beyond these walls."
"So he trusts her not to try to escape?"
The other woman laughed. "No, he ensures that she doesn't."
Grimly, Avis nodded and their conversation lasted a short few more minutes. Ventrua excused herself, and Avis knew it was very likely word of her past would reach Vitruvion in some near future. She tried for a short while longer to test the chain that bound her to the bed, and got up on order to test how far it would go. The answer was two feet. Not far enough from her to the door, but far enough to go and sit in the chair that Ventrua had done.
For the sake of change, Avis did just this, hobbled but with enough energy now to drag the chair where she wanted it. Leaning back in it she gazed up at the ceiling. She found that the great swathes of material were mostly likely silk, and they all joined at a central point in the roof. From there they spread out to the four rough corners and sides of the room, making the otherwise dungeon-esque room look more like a parlour. On the sides of the room, then, the tapestries dangled, and Avis could see that they were mostly the same deep red colour. The tapestries were also of similar designs, consisting all of natural scenes, rich with trees, and animals - deer, rabbits, birds. A lake appeared in one, and had a unicorn drinking at the edge. It was near the unicorn's tail which Avis first saw the border of the tapestry, and then the strange straight line in the wall of the room.
It was like a faint crack in the universe, with the tile-like bricks, all painted the same white as outside, lining up to make an edge about six foot in height. Frowning, Avis tried to spy other areas where the wall was exposed in the room - where the torches were, for instance - but saw nothing like this irregularity. She thought that it was just the way the bricks came together - but then she realised that it would be idiotically unstable to let a series of stones lie thus.
Her answer just to what it was was answered in a strangely fortunate short time. As things in the universe go, there is an unwritten law that a new novelty which you experience will more than likely appear sometime in the recent future. It was thus with Avis, and it came in the form of two of the lackeys with quarterstaffs walking in, as well as the one she recognised as Bertran.
Uneasily, she sat up in the chair, suddenly alert as a rush of energy came into her. Tensing, she watched as the door was carefully shut behind them, and they began approaching her with silent footfalls. Avis rolled her hands into light fists, ready to fend off any attempt to make her go into that room again. She had experienced enough pain for one day, and was hopeful that Vitruvion would not want her again soon.
"Afternoon," Bertran nodded to her as he stopped by the end of the bed. He looked at the way the chain was extended, across the gap, taut.
"What?" Avis stared at him, "I am allowed to relax."
The pale human just shrugged and walked over to her. "Sure. Whatever. Time to get ready, however."
"Ready for what?" she hissed.
"For tonight."
He shrugged and came to stand right before her. Right in punching distance, where she was sure she could get an easy and powerful blow right to his jaw. Maybe even break it. He would smart, maybe even bleed if her claws caught and be stupidly dazed enough for her to even attempt to get past the other two ...
But then her ankle was still changed to the bed. Damn.
Narrowing her eyes she watched as the other men, armed and ready with their stout, long pieces of wood began to approach her. Darkly, she growled.
"I am not doing anything tonight."
"Do you want me to go and get Vitruvion so you can tell him that yourself?" Bertran faced her fully, staring right at her, taking on some of the darkness that usually swirled within her own eyes.
The thought of the cold magical metal, the freeze of terror and hurt -the same chill, she realised now she had felt with Ventrua's hand, though for a softer purpose - came into Avis' memory. Narrowing her pitch black eyes she did not answer the human, nor make an attempt to currently hit him. She knew she needed to be in a better situation ... at least unhooked from the bed stead, that would be a start.
When her look conceded her dislike of the idea of fetching their master, Bertran smirked in an imitation of his (probably) superior Raevin, and turned to the side from her to look at her ankle. As his cronies moved in closer, the human began to bend down towards her foot, and Avis began to ready herself. Apart from the ankle she was fully free - no muzzle, nothing cuffing her hands, no restraint ...
It was a bad thing his body had been in the way. For Avis felt, suddenly, her right ankle - the one not attached to the wooden bed frame, tugged upon and jerked. Luckily she was sitting down, for the sudden movement might have floored her. Twisting around to gain the right angle, she raised an elbow and brought it slamming down into the small of Bertran's back. As the man collapsed, so did she too, forwards and winded as a blow from a quarterstaff reacted in the same way she had.
With the breath knocked out of her, Avis wheezed for the moments as she felt her arms, used to cause the elbowing injury, slip down. The form that had been beneath them moved, sliding out from near her feet. Haziness could be seen, and a lack of clear certainty as she tried to gain her bearings and even stutter a curse.
"Ff-fuck you," she moaned.
The knock had truly been harsh.
Strong hands then grabbed around her upper arms and began to lift her from the chair. The chain that had attached her to the bed seemed to have gone, for she was certainly being raised into the air far from it. Still, though, there was the quiet clinking of linked metal, and Avis sucked in several heavy breaths before she was dragged too far and not able to get her own say in where she went.
Blinking heavily she took in fresh oxygen and bit back the large throb of pain that still resounded over her back. Looking over to the right she saw one of the lackeys bearing her with both his hands around her arm, his qaurterstaff neatly tucked under his arm. She snapped her beak together with distaste and ground her feet claws into whatever earth they could find. So far they had simply been limp, pulled along with the rest of her body.
As soon as she had managed to find some floor to grip upon - the edge of a tile, she thought by the shape and texture - Avis lifted up her head, and began to fight back. She bucked her hips and shoulders, and for a moment the men holding her paused. They looked down with passionless eyes, one of them letting go with one hand to take his qaurterstaff up. Avis growled deeply, glaring back at him, daring him to try it as she prepared to swing up a leg, a kick, a jab, a knee ...
Chii-unk.
Her leg went only part the way. Not very far at all, as the tinkle of the chain seemed to stop. Glancing down Avis felt her breath, once more, hold in her chest, as she saw that her ankle still had the manacle secured around it. Connected to the chain. Connected to - she tilted her head - her other ankle.
Great, she thought.
Thwunk.
Across her abdomen this time. Not as hard by any degree, but still as punishing. Twisting up in pain and disgust, she cursed them some more, as they continued on their way. She stumbled as they went faster than her short hobble would allow, and as her eyes upturned again she saw Bertran appear in her sight. The pale man grinned like a serpent, and set about running a hand down the strangely even six-foot line in the wall. His fingers moved, and then in a few microseconds he let a hidden door rumble open, a thin layer of stone, it seemed.
Behind it there was a darkness, but this was quickly lit as Bertran continued to move. His hand flickered and Avis was forced towards the previously hidden room. Her heart hammered as she began to imagine what nightmares lay beyond. A bed that was just a metal frame. A rack, one from truly torturous obliettes. An iron maiden ...
A bathroom.
Her eyes blinked, quite surprised and she stopped fighting. She saw a fashionable toilet hole, with a wooden top to the end. There was a font, connected to a pipe. There was also a large brass bath, already apparently filled with steaming water, and around it were the finest soaps and lotions from over the continent.
The two qaurterstaff men pushed her inside. Bertran took place between the doorway and them, pausing as he fixed eyes on her. He seemed amused by her shock and surprise.
"You have an hour. Wash well, Master Vitruvion wants you truly clean. There's towels, combs ... Anything you should want in there," he pointed to a long wooden cupboard that Avis had not noticed before. "And if you wish to know, this door is the only one into here." He nodded.
She fixed a black stare at him and he paused, nodded again and began to close the door.
"Hey!" She yelled, eyes widening at the thought of just leaving her there.
Bertran looked back at her. "What?"
"Am I supposed to bathe with these?" she gestured with an intense movement to the fetters on her clawed feet.
A small smirk came to Bertran's face. "Have a nice bath, Stare," he said, and he closed the door without so much as a further word.
Leaving her in there, in silence. Lit by the single flittering flame of a large candle placed in a holder by the door.
Avis took a moment, and then began to immediately assess her surroundings. Bertran had said the hidden door was the only entrance in or out, but then he would never say if there was another. Besides, she decided, there must have been some way that the bath was filled without her knowing.
And so she set about a good ten minutes of running her hands over the walls, pressing almost every stoney tile within reach. Even behind the bath and sink. But after the time, she came to the conclusion that if there was something she was not going to easily find it today.
After all she only had an hour. And despite the fact it was Vitruvion who was ordering her to wash, and Avis wanted to be as irritating as possible to him, there was no way of pretending that she desperately wanted to wash her feathered body. Too many icons of dirt had wangled their way between her plumage and the spare time she had meagrely spent digging her beak into those crevices in order to clean did not still amount to a full wash.
Therefore, grumbling about the hobble she had, and awkwardly arranging herself because of them, the kenku lowered herself into the hot bath and forced herself to relax. Using her claws as well as her beak she set about making her feathers glistening and spotless. As much as acting as a bird as well as a humanoid she washing thoroughly, even spending time ruffling out her short and unaimable tail feathers.
After that she shook and used a towel to dry off. She was half way through preening her feathers that were formed around her small breasts when the door was unexpectedly opened once more. She immediately spat a little, cackling a few dark words in her native cawing tongue of Avian.
It was not Bertran but Raevin this time, and he leant on the door, eyebrow raised as he listened to her chatter. He stood mostly in the way of the view of the room, concealing it from sight. Combing through feathers at the side of her head she glared at him.
"What? Never heard Avian before, elf?"
He shook his head, a very honest look in his eyes. "No. Not once. You're not a very common species."
"We are back home," she said, standing up now to her full height.
He blinked a couple of times, a faint amused look on his face. "As is everyone. Now, are you dry?"
"If I say no, will you close the door and leave me be for a couple more hours?"
The look on his face told her that it was not likely. Clacking her beak together she growled.
"Was with a try."
Raevin let the amusement continue in his face for a while longer. Then he moved back and gestured. "Shall we?"
Avis' eyes darkened and she refused to move, hugging her arms around her form.
The elf let his arm fall. "Stare. This would be easier if you followed orders a little more."
Still she kept her ground, retreating even, further back into the bathroom, letting the chain of her hobble clink lightly against the ground.
"I'm going to offer this to you one last time, Stare, and then my kindness will end."
"When have any of you ever been kind?" She retorted.
Raevin sighed and raised a hand. He gestured to a being or a light around the edge of the doorway. After moving back Avis could not see what was going on but she knew it could not be pleasant. Nothing of this was. Every moment another person stepped into the room bad things happened. Excepting Ventrua. She just made the situation feel horribly eternal and hopeless.
One man, then another came into the bathroom. They filled the small space as Avis hissed and spat at them. The face of one she recognised as that she had mauled the previous day - the great wound on his cheek still blared. As their eyes met, he jeered, and raised his hands to reveal a small but brutal club within them. Avis clacked her beak at him, and backed away as far as she dared. Heart hammering she hated the part of herself which began to ask if this was all worth it, if fighting was truly just a stupid action leading to more pain and scorn on her part. But that part was still tiny, and her rebellious nature still claimed her kenku soul.
The club-and-wound man waddled forwards, putting the club into one hand and reaching for her with another. As he did Avis tried to dart out with her beak, trying to injure him once more. All of her attention on him, however, made her regret the fact she had not remembered to keep an eye on the second, and assume he couldn't get that far in such a thin room.
Eveidently he was skinny. For no sooner had she gone forth with her beak had her legs given away beneath her. She gasped as she fell back, right back onto the floor narrowly missing hitting her head off the wooden seat of the toilet. She began to scrabble, screeching in shock and agitation, before her feet were moved again, and not of her own accord.
Looking down she saw the second man, a spindly elf, with his hands around the chain of her hobbles, sharply pulling on them so her ankles were dragged.
She shrieked, though gently because of the surprise of a third tug, which dragged her right past the first man, sliding by his fat feet. As she made the grab his ankles he kicked her off and nudged her shoulder with the edge of his club, as if to say, 'Go on. Go on.'
But she didn't want to go on. She wanted to stay. Therefore, the hands moved, the chains were tugged, and Avis was dragged through to the doorway. She tried to keep her dignity as much as she could as she fought, sitting up as much as was possible. Once at the door there was space for more men and more hands, reaching out to help grasp at her form. Raevin stood back, now entirely unamused as to before, arms folded. He pursed his lips and met her eyes as she was lifted up and over a huge man she had never seen's shoulder.
She growled and hammered at the giant's back, her wrists slipping free of the many hands that tried to grasp at them. The heavy club from wound-face man remained at her back, present in its gentle but warning touches. The huge man who carried her, who had to be over seven feet, surely, continued on his purposeful way, ignoring her cries. Because of the way he carried her Avis' back was to the bed, and thus she did not see what awaited her there.
Without ceremony, she was dumped on the bed. And immediately hands began setting to work. They grabbed her ankles, and shred them off their metal cuffs, only to replace them with softer, leather ones. Avis screeched and yelled at them, trying to sit up, but no sooner had she done so than her wrists were similarly grabbed. And treated to the same. There was only a brief sound of chains before she caught a glimpse of the more familiar rope.
Tied. Pulled. Stretched. She cried out but it did nothing. Her eyes met Raevin's as he came to stand by her side as her arms and legs were pulled out to all four corners of the bed, her hatred for him not hidden.
He smirked rather pleased as his men moved back. The ropes were taught, tied as tight as they would go, leaving Avis feeling like a piece of meat, stretched out for all to laugh at. As she dared to continue cursing him he shrugged and bent down to take something up. While she continued her jabbering he ducked towards her, shoving two hands around her beak before Bertran himself took up a form of rope and dropped it over them. A loop, a tug, a tightening, and this time her beak wasn't left slightly open. It was jammed tight shut, no less than three loops at different distances up it. The ends were tied behind her neck. She shrieked in a muffled, unrecognisable voice.
"Fuck you," her voice cried, the word fast becoming one of her favourite here, despite its connotations. "Fuck you ... Fuck you ... Fuck ..." The words dwindled to muffled shrieks.
Her breathing was rough and irregular, born of anxiety and genuine fear. She knew what was likely to come, what 'Vitruvion wants you' meant. The men left swiftly, after binding her to the bed, in that way. Try as hard as she might they had also bound her well. Her stress remained, though it dissapated as time went on.
Minutes. Long minutes. Possibly even an hour, and all she could do was stare at the ceiling, keep her words to herself.
Eventually her eyes rolled closed. And they remained that way as she quietly heard the door open and soft footsteps slide in. The swiftly becoming familiar clink clink of the cane was light and barely sounding.
Barely.
"Stare," came the rich voice. From her left.
She kept her eyes closed, wishing he wouldn't try to talk. That, if he must, he would just get over with it and then leave.
"Stare. Look at me."
The voice had a line of soothing command in it. But, not wanting to, she shook her head ever so slightly.
A sigh. Then pressure on the bed as he took a seat beside her, the mattress depressing. It would have made her roll if she hadn't been tied up like she was.
Strangely, softly, there was the feel of a hand on her shoulder.
"Ventrua told me everything you said to her. About your family, and where you come from. The legacy of your father as a warrior, the way you lost your brothers ... She told me you were all alone."
Avis let out a strangled, pained noise from her throat. She didn't want to talk about her family, she didn't want to remember them right now. Her father had died from old age, then her mother from sorrow, a broken heart. After that, the group of kegareta, the kenku outcast class, she had been part of had offered for her to stay but - but no. She couldn't at the time. There had been too many memories, too much horror and sadness and tears. She didn't want to talk about it today.
His breath appeared warm, gentle by the place her ear should be. "Stare. You need not be alone anymore. You are mine. You have a new family."
At that idea, her eyes flashed open. They were dark, horrific, condemning. How dare he even suggest that here she could get something as close as what her and her parents had been. What the short few months she remembered with her brothers had been like. How dare he? She had begun to believe that her relationships at the Dwarven Bakery could lead her thus, to open up to a new type of family but here? The same feelings? He had to be crazy.
Vitruvion was sitting by her head, and his eyebrows were raised at her. His jaw noticeably tightened. He sat up slightly and looked at her with disappointment.
"Fine. Keep that muzzle of yours," his tone was spiteful, brutal and hard. He shoved her face away, harshly and disappointedly. "Don't even try to make this easier. Don't even try."
He stood up with a foul mood written in his features, and began to, with a savage irritation, work on the fabric tied fashionably at his throat.
"You're a disappointment, Stare," he hissed. "You had potential, and now ... Well."
The fabric fell to the floor. His cane had gone, elsewhere, so that he would work in his clothes.
"Well. I can say that I am truly disappointed."
Gloves. Boots. Belt.
"I'll have you come around, though," he promised to her. "I will. I am determined. I promise."
He pulled his tunic up and over his head, leaving a bare, perfectly sculpted chest. Glistening.
Avis looked away in disgust. He made a noise and continued to move, making the final few preparations.
"But I warn you, don't permanently break. I will never forgive you then."
Part One Ends.
"Stare," came the rich voice. From her left.
She kept her eyes closed, wishing he wouldn't try to talk. That, if he must, he would just get over with it and then leave.
"Stare. Look at me."
The voice had a line of soothing command in it. But, not wanting to, she shook her head ever so slightly.
A sigh. Then pressure on the bed as he took a seat beside her, the mattress depressing. It would have made her roll if she hadn't been tied up like she was.
Strangely, softly, there was the feel of a hand on her shoulder.
"Ventrua told me everything you said to her. About your family, and where you come from. The legacy of your father as a warrior, the way you lost your brothers ... She told me you were all alone."
Avis let out a strangled, pained noise from her throat. She didn't want to talk about her family, she didn't want to remember them right now. Her father had died from old age, then her mother from sorrow, a broken heart. After that, the group of kegareta, the kenku outcast class, she had been part of had offered for her to stay but - but no. She couldn't at the time. There had been too many memories, too much horror and sadness and tears. She didn't want to talk about it today.
His breath appeared warm, gentle by the place her ear should be. "Stare. You need not be alone anymore. You are mine. You have a new family."
At that idea, her eyes flashed open. They were dark, horrific, condemning. How dare he even suggest that here she could get something as close as what her and her parents had been. What the short few months she remembered with her brothers had been like. How dare he? She had begun to believe that her relationships at the Dwarven Bakery could lead her thus, to open up to a new type of family but here? The same feelings? He had to be crazy.
Vitruvion was sitting by her head, and his eyebrows were raised at her. His jaw noticeably tightened. He sat up slightly and looked at her with disappointment.
"Fine. Keep that muzzle of yours," his tone was spiteful, brutal and hard. He shoved her face away, harshly and disappointedly. "Don't even try to make this easier. Don't even try."
He stood up with a foul mood written in his features, and began to, with a savage irritation, work on the fabric tied fashionably at his throat.
"You're a disappointment, Stare," he hissed. "You had potential, and now ... Well."
The fabric fell to the floor. His cane had gone, elsewhere, so that he would work in his clothes.
"Well. I can say that I am truly disappointed."
Gloves. Boots. Belt.
"I'll have you come around, though," he promised to her. "I will. I am determined. I promise."
He pulled his tunic up and over his head, leaving a bare, perfectly sculpted chest. Glistening.
Avis looked away in disgust. He made a noise and continued to move, making the final few preparations.
"But I warn you, don't permanently break. I will never forgive you then."
Part One Ends.
Stare receives 2180 EXP and 300 GP!
All rewards added!