[closed] The flesh is weak and without reason

[ofobedience]

Who: Giovanni, Kanda, and Lavi
Where: Noah
When: W5D5 - W5D7
Summary: a bad dog gets time out
Restrictions/Warnings: idk, restraints and mentions of graphic violence?



[His head hurts. Consciousness comes up on him like a white detonation behind the eyes and dully he makes an animal sound of pain, a low grunt through gritted teeth. He knows if he opens his eyes it's only going to increase and so he puts it off, remains floating in the dark pit of himself, scrabbling for an explanation as to why he feels like this. It's not something he's well aquiainted with, the kind of pain that lingers after the cause of it has ended, body healing rapidly around whatever's inflicted against it but the head, of course it would be there. Of course it would.

It takes a moment, that blinding whiteness that rattles through him temporarily eclipsing the other things, the thudding ache in his arms, the strain in his wrists, the fact he can't feel the ground. There's a moment of panic then, something fierce and raw opening up in his chest and he flexes his hands within their restraints, feels out the shape of his containment. Struggles to remember why he's here and what's going on and whether he'd done something wrong and is now facing some kind of disciplinary action or--

--something else.

Slowy, with some trepidation, he opens his eyes. And there it is, the increased acute flare in his head as the light stabs ruthessly into him, makes him choke out another kicked-dog sound before he can stop himsef. He blinks, onetwo, waits for the world to come into focus, for order to reassert itself, but no. He doesn't know where this is. Looks around, slowly. The cargo hold of a ship, perhaps, based on scent and what he can see beyond the blue glow of the holding cell's forcefield-- because that's where he is. Chained by the wrists in some holding cell and quickly now it comes flooding back to him in an unsteady rush, the riots and the blood and the exquisite abandon, how good it had been right up until the moment he'd been shot in the head.

Beyond the scent of the blood that still covers him, the industrial whiff of the cargo hold, the electric buzz of the forcefield, he can - faintly - smell lotus blooms. The sound he makes, this time it's all pent-up frustration as he pulls himself up with his inhuman strength, begins the tedious process of trying to yank himself free.]

Comments

[ofobedience]

[There's truth in that. There is. Things like him don't always bow down and obey, sometimes they snap and snarl and tear off the hand that holds the leash, but what happens then? Useless rabid dogs, unable to hold on to the splintering parts of themselves, desperate to slip the collars bolted immovably into bone-- they get put down.

(Put down like her like Lily Lily Lily unhinged and full of burning desperation her face as the blade went in the sight of her there in the thick of it with blood dripping from her limbs from her face that smile splitting open wide and mad and full of such exquisite joy, and the moment she knew she was done for something sad and bittersweet and glad like relief it doesn't hurt anymore it doesn't hurt--)

But that's not what he means, is it? There's a roiling anger in the man's words, in that glacial blue as he pins him with his eyes, and distantly Giovanni is aware that this isn't all meant for him, that there's something beneath all that, something personal maybe (vaguely, the memory of Kanda keeping stride with him that time, down in the tunnels), but it's a hard thing to hold on to. An impossible thing.

There's still too much heat in him, too much bone-jarring violence, and underneath it all a yawning pit of fear that opens wide and threatens to swallow him whole.

The words, in a way, they shake him.

Kanda looks away, finally, takes that steadying breath, and Giovanni slips through the gaps in his words to find the core of truth in them, the truth as he sees it, anyway. That perhaps he had, for one ugly glittering moment, become something else back there. Something beyond all control or reason. Less than the sum of his parts. Something that needed to die.

(And there's something small and sharp in him like a splinter slim but deep cutting right down into the core of himself, the tiniest faintest whisper-- and it says perhaps it would be better that way, perhaps it would. Let it all come down. Let it end.)

He is pathetic. Worthless useless weak. One must have control to be controlled and if he loses that, where is he?

Slowly, he bares his teeth in a smile that isn't a smile at all.]

Then get on and kill me, will you? Kill me, or let me go. I'm not in the mood to play this game with you. Show me that merciful side of yours and have done with it. Whatever it is you're looking for, you won't find it in me. I'll go on killing. Endlessly. It's all there is.

[lotusmesenpai]

[Kanda's reaction is instantaneous, faster than the average eye can track - one hand pulls the pistol from his thigh holster (flicking the setting up to maximum lethality, safety off) and aims it unerringly towards Giovanni's head even as the other reaches out to lower the shield around the cell.

Canting his head to the side, he sights down the barrel, his gaze every bit the soldier - the killer - he'd once been, utterly devoid of emotion or indecision as icy blue clashes with crimson.

But even as his finger begins to shift, to curl against the trigger...

There's something lingering in Giovanni's gaze, the shadow of something human clinging to the edges. And he's not sure if he wants to see it or if Giovanni even knows it's there, but.

But.

It's enough.

Snarling out an enraged curse, Kanda snaps his hand up, flicked the safety back into place and leans forward, his own expression almost feral as he glare at his prisoner.]

Fuck that. You don't get an easy fucking out, Giovanni.

[Drawing a breath, his expression settles into a sneer as he steps back, away from the cage he's put this man in.]

I'll be the judge of that - of whether or not 'what I'm looking for' is fucking there or not.

[ofobedience]

[It's quick, the movement of Kanda's hand, the leveling of the gun and fear opens wide as a wound in him, thick and black and all-encompassing, rattling through his bones, his blood. This is how it ends then, this is how it ends and perhaps it's not such a bad thing really, it'll be quick and not like the other ways he could go, not like Dog Bite roiling through him and filling him with shuddering agony, a drawn-out ugly death.

Put down like a dog in a holding cell while he's strapped by his wrists and unable to move-- well. Perhaps it's fitting. Perhaps it's what he deserves.

That roiling fear though, it doesn't make it all the way into his face (just a shadow of it, a shiver, going off like a flash in his eyes and then gone again), and instead he just raises his head, meets Kanda's gaze, doesn't blink or look away. Waits for the world to go dark.

But it doesn't come.

Instead there's just the killjoy snarling at him and he's flooded with relief and despair in equal oversized measures. Of course he doesn't get it that easy. Of course not.

As always, the decision is out of his hands.

Kanda steps back, and Giovanni gives him an empty scimitar smile.]

You'll regret that. Hahah. The moment you release me from here, I'm going to tear you apart.

[And his words are heavy with threat, yes, but there's something else lurking behind that hot violence, something resigned and infinitely tired.]

[lotusmesenpai]

Perhaps, but I've never seen a point to regret.

[Shrugging, Kanda reaches back out to re-activate the field even as he slides the firearm firmly back into the holster, his expression utterly stoic as he steps further back.]

Seems like you'd still rather bite, though, so you're staying as you are. Once you're less homicidal... we'll see.

[That said, he spins on a heel and strides swiftly out of the cargo bay, doesn't bother to look back. And he doesn't stop until he reaches the kitchen, until he can stand there, head bowed, breaths slow and deliberately even because Giovanni is dangerous.

Not because of his feral behaviors, but because he stirs too many memories, bring to bear too many 'what if's'.

What if he'd let them break him, when he'd still been a child?

What if he'd stayed - how long before he'd stepped past the threshold of what he'd been and what Giovanni had become?

What if Sion hadn't released him?

What if he's crediting Giovanni with an ability to adapt that had, in fact, been beaten out of him long ago?

Shuddering at the thought, Kanda pushes off the counter to disappear into his room, to fold down into a meditative seat. Control.

He just needs to find his center, armor himself with a rigid control.]