[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

W5D5 evening-ish

[inksplashes]

[ He's not an animal, Lavi had wanted to protest, unknowing of those traits that push Giovanni firmly into the realm of beast, We don't have to lock him up like this--

But then the waves of blood had hit him and he's no stranger to the lily-rust smell of it, to the lingering aroma of burned flesh and lost lifeblood, but there was just so much. Too much for any one man to wear when it isn't his own, and so with an easy smile and calm composure, Lavi had let his protests die in the silence of his mind.

He knows, doesn't he? Even without asking, he understands that Kanda is looking at a potential formula for his future, and whether he's trying to correct the equation now for his sake or the chained man's doesn't matter.

It's important for Yu. That's all he cares about.

So he keeps his distance, keeps to his books and records. Lavi writes about this person, named Pawn in his record, but he has scarcely enough information to scribble out two lines.

Eventually, his curiosity (compassion) gets the better of him. He may be a hostile captive but he needs water, food.

Late then, before the crest of night has fully surrended to the rise of morning, he stands outside of the forcefield. He's holding a water bottle and straw, but he doesn't advance immediately. The forcefield is there for a reason. Kanda has this person restrained to such extremes for a purpose.

Easy smile. Casual tone. There's a small thrum of fear in him but he conceals it like he does everything else. He forgets it's there.

(That too, as he does with everything else, everything human in his heart.) ]

What's your name?

[ He knows the pawn is awake. Tools of war seldom survive without paranoia and nightmares that chase off sleep like an unwanted stray. ]

[lotusmesenpai]

[While the dog remained unconscious, Kanda had simply waited. Debated. He could have cleaned the layers of blood steadily drying on the man's skin, hardening clothes into what promises to be chafing discomfort all around, but... a part of him wonders, still, if the mere scent of so much blood would be enough to trigger the mindless berserker he'd come face-to-face with in the streets of Old Town.

Sitting on his stool outside the field, Kanda let his thoughts drift back to the riots. To the Company man he could only assume had been assigned to this one. The one Kanda had found dead, limbs scattered, and truth be told - he hadn't been sure if that had been the rioters, or the dog biting the hand that feeds.

Either way, that the Dog had been utterly lost, had surrendered with vicious glee to his most carnal, predatory instincts was undisputed.

Hell, the bastard had looked at him like he was the latest bit of prey, before Kanda had shot him almost point blank to the man's temple.

Worse, was the way the crowd had reacted in seeing their tormentor go down.

He'd had to shoot several before they'd taken the hint, allowed him to leave the streets with his dubious prize thrown over his shoulder.

And now?

Now it sits there, calmly listening to the animalistic grunts and growls, watches the way this man pulls at his chains like a dog unused to being kenneled.

This, he thinks, is going to be a long fucking night.]

Oy, mutt. Knock it off already. I'm not dumb enough to use half-assed restraints on you, so you're wasting your time.

W5D6, early morning

[lotusmesenpai]

[Rest was, while still improved from the months before, still restless for Kanda. (In part, due to sleeping next to a partner that had forgotten something rather significant between them, but largely because he's still not entirely sure he'd done the right thing.)

So perhaps that's why, long before daylight had a chance to creep into the bridge of the ship, Kanda had slipped silently from his bed, changed into workout clothes, and sequestered himself in the training room. First, he'd had Noah give him a report of Giovanni's vitals, then an activity assessment, before throwing himself into the familiar.

Unfortunately, hours of strain, of precise practice and repetitive motions did very little to settle the pervading sense of restlessness, nor had a shower, and so he'd finally decided on a different tact.

So when he finally makes his way back to Giovanni's cell, he's carrying quite a bit: A bag, with a change of clothes and toiletries, a deep basin of warm water, and a trey with a basic breakfast for two.

Wordlessly, he sets the plate of soba and tea on a small worktable across from Giovanni's cell, then steps over to drop the field. Once inside, he sets out the clothes, the water, and the food - all without looking at the man still hanging from the center.

In fact, he doesn't look at Giovanni at all until the barrier is back in place. Hands laced loosely behind his back, Kanda sighs and shakes his head at his captive.]

...Thing is, I'm not trying to torture you, idiot. You're still hanging, because I wanted you calm before you were released. But unlike whatever fucked up masters you've had, I'm not here to punish you. Just contain your crazy for a while. So clean the fuck up and eat something, moron.

[That said, he reaches out and, with a tap of the screen, releases the restraints on the man's wrists.]