thecapitol | You Taste Like Toxic Poison [Closed]

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You Taste Like Toxic Poison [Closed]

WHO| Eva, Alpha and later Darius
WHAT| Eva makes bad decisions.
WHEN| A few weeks after the end of the Arena.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Drunken hook-ups and sadism.

There are two sides to Eva. One of them still feels things, and she tries to drown that part in alcohol. She tries to drown it in a well so deep that no one will ever find it again, much less her. Sometimes it comes crawling back up from the deep, all bloody and wet and ugly, and she has to go and drag it back down again.

That's what she's doing tonight as she stumbles through the District 1 suite, using her fingertips against the walls to keep herself from tipping over. She finds the door she wants and pounds against it, rather than merely knocking, until it opens to see a familiar face.

"Let's go, cowboy."

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"Oh? One of those multiple personalities is going to break me out of my golden cage, then?" She sits up and reaches to hook her leg around Alpha's waist in a way that would be seductive if she weren't clearly smashed and clumsy. Then she pauses.

She looks right at Darius. "I know this one."

"It'd be a team effort, if anything." Alpha grabs her leg when it looks like she's not gonna make it all the way, holds it up curiously. He hopes she's not so drunk she doesn't remember this, that wouldn't be nearly as fun. "But you didn't strike me as the damsel type, waiting for your prince to come."

He looks back at Darius again, examining. "You remember them? Do you give them names and treats, too?"

He'd hoped, a little, that Eva hadn't remembered him, hadn't marked him out from the dozens of other Avoxes living in the Tribute Center. Because he certainly remembered her.

One quick glance directly at her, an accident of reflex and gone in a blink. Behind his back, his hands gripped each other more tightly, short-trimmed nails digging in.

"They're not dogs, Alpha." She reaches over and grabs his hand over her leg, sliding it up her thigh. "They have names."

She beckons with one finger for Darius to come near the bed. "You. Come tell us your name."

"Dogs get named," he retorts, but he's looking at Darius, at his reaction. Avoxes, in Alpha's experience, do not tend to look at people's faces. "Looks like he knows you too. Have you played with him before?"

His steps forward are obedient, not willing. But he doesn't want her to find a knife, this time, and so he bows again at the edge of the bed, and writes his name carefully in the air with a hesitant hand.

"This one? At the beginning of this season, I think." Her head lolls to the side on the bed, dark hair splattering over the sheets.

"Darius. Good, good. Seems you've learned to take directions after all. I remember that was a bit of a problem with you." She reaches out and grabs him by the arm.

"You've been training him, have you?" Alpha asks, freeing one of his arms to reach out to Darius, grab him the chin. He bends down to look into his eyes. "So they've sent us a troublemaker. He doesn't look like much," Alpha says and adds, idly, almost as an afterthought, "You asked me once about what it was like to kill. You said you'd forgotten, or something like that, was it?"

The ex-soldier leans forward suddenly with her grab, trying not to lose his balance at the sudden drag, not to pull back. His eyes snap up to Alpha, mouth opening slightly in distress - He's not a troublemaker, he's not. When he's given orders that don't contradict other orders. Orders he can follow.

"I may have said I missed it." She puts a finger to her lips. "But don't tell anyone."

She tilts her head like a cobra in front of a charmer at Darius. Her hand crawls up Alpha's lower back.

"I didn't like that he didn't stand up for himself. I don't like it when they let me push them around. It's like they aren't human anymore. It's sickening."

"I'll take it to the grave," Alpha promises solemnly. His hand slides to the back of Darius' head, into his hair where he can grip and maneuver as he wishes.

"This one doesn't seem terribly interested in holding on to his humanity," he says. "If you want a toy that fights back, we may have to send for another one."

There are scars in Darius's scalp, deliberate parallel ridges hidden in that red hair, crossing a short curved gash that's easy to enough to feel. Someone worked hard to make sure the signs of interrogation were subtle, concealable in the Avox, the finished product. The physical signs, anyway. The way Darius tenses when Alpha takes his grip is anything but subtle. His muscles tense, breath comes faster, skin tingles with dread. His hand wavers in the air a moment before he dares writing again, in constrained, jerky letters on the air.

I can't

"Oh, I don't know about that." She props herself up on her elbow and examines Darius.

"Most people find their fighting instincts again when they're pressed just far enough. I don't suppose you could use any of your orchestrated savagery to draw some blood from this stone?"

Alpha feels the scar tissue and his fingers seek it out, running along them. He wants to examine them closer, he hadn't seen a hint of them before. Perhaps he'll get the chance tonight.

"'Orchestrated savagery', what a sophisticated way to put it," Alpha says. "I'm sure I could manage something, but I'd assumed this visit was about your pleasure, not mine. Wouldn't you like to go first?" His hands slides to the nape of Darius' neck, pushes him closer to the bed, towards Eva. "If it's been too long I can always be the Swayze to your Demi," he adds, not expecting either of them to understand the reference.

Forced up against the edge of the bed, Darius has to put a hand on it or lose his balance. He stares at Eva the way an injured deer might stare at the wolf that just ran it down, white visible all around his eyes. And it isn't just the threat of 'orchestrated savagery' that has him short of breath. She wants him to communicate and to fight back, to act as if he still has the right to a spine. Or an identity. And he doesn't.

His hand is hesitant and slow as he lifts it again, trying for placation, before lowering it to smooth a patch of blanket.

I follow rules, he began to write there, if either was watching.

"I like to try for sophistication. I didn't grow up with it, you know." She kicks a shoe off and sits up entirely on the bed. "Poor farm girl. This one was a Peacekeeper, you know? I looked him up, after our last encounter."

Something ugly in her eyes emerges like a crocodile from the swamp. She watches his fingers as if she wants to snap them off, and then looks to Alpha.

"Inspire me, Swayze."

"I would never have guessed," says Alpha, who had, in fact, guessed as much and confirmed it with his own research after their first meeting. "A Peacekeeper, really? I have quite the affinity for men of the law, you know. I just sort of attract them, somehow. Believe in the law, do you?" he asks Darius, using pressure on his neck to indicate he wants Darius to look at him.

He looks at Eva next, trying to gauge just how far she's actually willing to take this, and when he sees what he wants, he grins, bright and sharp. Drops her leg, lets Darius loose, secure that the Avox won't be moving without an order.

There's not much to work with in the room, not much he's willing to reveal to his guests, anyway, but he grabs the nearest glass container, a decanter that he carefully empties before breaking it with a good hard smack on the bedframe.

Selecting the largest shard, he moves around the bed to come up behind Eva, close enough that there's a bare centimeter of space between them before he holds it out. "Not the sharpest, but improvisation has its limits. Ladies first?"

His other hand darts out quick as a snake, curving around Eva to grab Darius' wrist, aiming to pull it forward for easier access. "Or perhaps a demonstration, to help you along."

When he's pulled, this time, he's overbalanced at last and lands on his knees on the bed. There's a sound, an ugly little gasp of noise that he quickly stifles, and his eyes lock onto Alpha. Afraid of Eva he might be, but he's already identified the bigger predator in this room. He doesn't try to pull his arm away, but all the cords in his wrist stand out with tension, his hand spread rigidly flat.

Between Alpha and Darius, she stares the Avox in the eyes. Her own expression is the epitome of a single word: contempt. She takes the shard without looking, letting a splinter of the glass slip into her fingertips, letting the pinpricks of blood get smeared in the creases of her knuckle.

"Tell me when it hurts," she says. She traces the glass over Darius' neck, as delicate as an archaeologist frees statues from the earth. Her voice becomes a hiss. "Tell me when to stop."

Alpha laughs, a delighted and out of place sound. "Careful," he says, slinging an arm around Eva's shoulders. He lets go of Darius, trusting that his fear and training will keep him rooted to the spot, and slides his other hand up Eva's arm, to cup the wrist of the hand holding the glass. "You slit his throat and I'll have to have these carpets replaced. You don't want to break him so soon, whatever will we do with the rest of the night?"

Darius's eyes shut despite himself, like a child covering their face in fear. He shudders, making the faint red line Eva traces wiggle, and scarcely breathes. She can slit his throat and nothing would come of it. He's sure of that. There are no consequences here for either of them, only him.

When the shard cuts a little deeper, he taps his hand against the bed in a quick flutter, eyes clenching briefly as he makes sure to not move back

"Oh, is he tapping out? Was that a request?" Eva asks, leaning into Darius' chest, breathing the words into his ear.

"Don't worry, Alpha. I'll leave you something."

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Alpha says, raising a hand to trace the red spanning Darius' neck. "Not the sign language I know, but maybe it's different here." He reaches for Eva's hand, tries to guide the makeshift blade higher up, to Darius' cheek, to hover just above the skin. "Do you know what annoys me the most about these people? No individuality. They all look exactly the same after awhile, don't they?" Not that any marks they make would last long enough to really make an impression, but it's the thought that counts, he feels.

"Good, good, I hate feeling left out."

The Avox nods faintly, so faintly it's barely more than a quiver, cheek twitching. He opens his eyes just a slit, ready to snap them shut again. Whatever this game they're playing - well, he knows what it is by now. When his eyes are shut, he sees a white room and a tall man with slicked-back hair with a smile like a knife-wound. Open is better, even with that shard of glass so close.

Eva takes a deep breath, smelling Alpha, and Darius, and the alcohol on her own breath. She lets Alpha guide her hand, waving the shard of glass near Darius' wide eyes.

She starts to cut his lip, the same place she has a scar from her Arena.

Alpha laughs when he realizes the significance of her choice. "A matching set? Everyone will know who he belongs to, how far thinking of you." He returns his hand to the mark on Darius' neck, traces it once again, pressing harder, enough to bring more blood to the surface, coating his fingers. "Is it all coming back to you now?" he asks, his voice vague, the blood and blade distracting him briefly.

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You Taste Like Toxic Poison [Closed]

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