View source for 362/Jailed...Again

{{Log Header
|Date of Scene=2014/08/07
|Location=Castlevania
|Synopsis=Medusa visits D again in Castlevania's Cursed Prisons, eager to see what effects recent events have had on him.
|Thanks=
|Cast of Characters=22, 232
|Tinyplot=The Hunter's Curse
|pretty=yes
}}
{{Poses
|Poses=:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The air is ancient and full of unpleasant odors. Wet rot, mold, blood both fresh and congealed, and other less definable smells assail the Hunter's sharp senses the moment he wakes and draws a deep, gasping breath. The chains binding him rattle in response to his movement.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;That's it, the last stench he could not name right away. Steel. Iron. Metal clasps cold around his arms and throat, so frigid his skin feels numb where the shackles are secured.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Has he been here before...? A strange sense of familiarity prickles in the back of his mind, but the memory eludes him. He gazes ahead at the bars blocking his door, and his brow furrows in dizzy confusion. How had he arrived here? He cannot remember that either. Hours had passed since...since -- what? He recalls the light of the moon, the howling of some beast, but it is all eroded, the details lost as if scrubbed over by sandpaper.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;D bows his head. Hunger gnaws in his stomach. His body throbs. How long had he been here?<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The first warning he gets is the creaking of the door as it slowly draws open, casting light into the dark cell and illuminating the silhouette of a familiar woman. The last time she came here, she came as the nurse. Today she is here as the witch. And she is alone, the guards remaining outside. There is no way this guest will be left alone lest he break out again, after all. He is dangerous. But perhaps she can properly assess the situation. If it's one thing she hates, it's to see something like him restrained when he can be useful, both for the Confederacy and for her own personal hunger for chaos and destruction.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I'm glad to see you are awake, beloved," she speaks up as the door slams shut behind her, leaving them alone in the darkness. Then she takes a few steps closer, that smile still on her lips as she watches him. "How are you faring~?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The chains rattle. The door shrieks. D picks up his head, to look at his visitor without understanding. Though she is as recognizable as the prison holding him, the woman provokes a far more confounding reaction inside him. He feels something deep for her, far deeper and much more bitter than his vague foreboding, but the emotion lacks roots. It shifts around inside him without gripping him, like he feels on behalf of someone disconnected from him.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Beloved...is it love setting fire to him? D's dark eyes, not quite focused to their typical sharpness, linger on Medusa's face. No, what he feels is something much more monstrous than anything like love, but without understanding its reason, he is forced to set it aside. His regal brow remains wrinkled by confusion.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Miss Gorgon..."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The name comes easily to him, at least. Yes, he knows who she is. That gives him comfort.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"What has happened...?"<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His voice is edged by roughness. His sense of loss is obvious. He looks to her for answers, for comfort, remembering something of the kindness she showed him the last time he was in this place. Why had he been here before? The memory eludes him like a slippery eel squirming from his grasp.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;There is something different about his eyes.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The serpentine witch steps forward, her bare feet making no sound on the stone floor. It's a curious thing to see him regard her with so little anger... but still, she has to make sure. What happened? "You fought the Grendel, a beast of my world. Kilik assisted you... and called for me when you were out cold. The chains... are for our safety. Do you hurt? Are you thirsty...?" she asks, stopping in front if him as she crouches down, just out of reach. "Do you remember at all?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"The Grendel..." The monster takes form in his mind. D remembers the battle all at once, but very little of its purpose remains to him, and almost nothing of its conclusion. "...yes. I remember trying to kill the monster. I remember Kilik helping me, and I remember losing my sword."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His sword; it's there, in the cell's shadows beyond Medusa's crouched figure, calling to D now that it has been remembered. Muramasa resembles D's true weapon enough to have fooled him on the field; on lifting it, great darkness had surrounded and drowned the dhampir. Now that its curse has been given several hours to securely fasten to his soul, its malevolence can warp his memory and intentions, making him one with the evil surrounding him.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Merely looking at the sword grants D clarity and security.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"...I am thirsty, yes; and my body aches, but I do not think I am very injured." He returns his attention fully to Medusa. Beloved; she has called him that many times before. "For your safety -- I see. Do you fear I would attack you?"<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Beloved. For an instant he recalls something else, something sweeter, like smoky incense or sweet perfume, but the memory is gone even as it threatens to surface.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;After all these hours it seems that the curse has taken proper hold. And he turns to her. This is quite the opportunity. "Your hunger... has hurt me before," the witch says softly, her expression gentle as she reaches a slender hand out to gently caress the side of his face.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I am glad you have recovered, beloved..." she murmurs, her fingers finding their way into his hair. "The Field Marshal wants to be certain as well... tell me. If I were to unlock these chains..." Her golden eyes seek out his. "What would you do...?" Just how much does he remember? Just how strong is the curse? How much can she manipulate him? Can he be given some degree of freedom, or should they wait? Part if her can't help but be curious and tempted...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Do you want something to drink?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The Field Marshal. /His/ Field Marshal? Cruel laughter echoes in his mind, sourced from the only image of any Field Marshal he seems able to recall -- Dracula Vlad Tepes, the Lord of Darkness. The hazy memory sparks steel in his gaze and leaves him tasting something vile, but before he can truly latch onto and nourish his loathing, Medusa's fingers slip through his hair in a soothing caress. A weighty apathy returns to D. He answers the woman in a low, disaffected murmur.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I have no desire to harm you. I feel it would be an unforgivable offense." Does he, now? And where did that feeling come from? Regardless of its source, he is secure in it. How could he hurt someone who speaks to him so kindly? He remembers another source of kindness -- a gentle girl caught between conflicting worlds -- but the image of Beli shifts away, replaced by the golden eyes watching him with so much concern.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"Do you have water?"<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Really? Medusa recalls the last time she spoke with D face to face. How he all too readily said he wished to harm her. To hurt her. There is nothing to suggest that he is lying now.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The smile on her lips is seemingly genuine, a fondness to her eyes as she offers comfort. "I am glad to hear it..." Her words are barely a whisper when she withdraws her hand. Water. She gave him water the last time too. A nod, and she reaches into the pocket of her jump suit, withdrawing a small bottle of clear, pure water.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It is opened and moved to his lips. "Here you are... drink slowly..." She moves closer to him, easily within reach.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Within reach, if he was free of his shackles, perhaps.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The closeness of her is nevertheless noted. He can feel her warmth, and hear her breath. As he drinks in peace, he becomes increasingly aware of how /alive/ she is, and of the heart beating in her chest. Her pulse beats a seductive rhythm. He can almost feel its reverberation on the prison's cool air, the only pleasant distraction from the otherwise dank and forbidding atmosphere.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;D's eyes widen a small but visible degree. Water slips down his chin as he abruptly pulls his head back from the vial. A red hue intrudes on their placid darkness, and he clenches his jaw shut even as he looks at Medusa and sees shining through her skin all the pathways and channels carrying her blood. A low, resistant growl rises up from his throat. Another shudder, and his fangs begin to grow long, visibly wicked compared to the rest of his bared teeth.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The chains draw tight. His chest and shoulders draw tight, too.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He fixates his glare on the ceiling, and waits for the terrible impulse to pass. It has always faded. It will again. He must remain strong.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This ingrained discipline is not so easily eroded by any curse...though the hunger is more horrible than he remembers it ever being before.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;This close it's only too easy for the perceptive witch to notice the minor things. The red in his eyes, the dilation of pupils, the clenching of his jaw, the fangs and bared teeth...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;As he stops drinking the water she lowers the small container, turning her head slightly even as her own heart beats steadily inside her chest. "Beloved..." Her words are but a whisper in the darkness as she slowly leans more into him, not showing any fear at the growl that rumbles throughout him. Her movements are slow, controlled as she puts aside the bottle, and her slender and bare arms shift to rest around his shoulders. Drawing herself closer, Medusa rests her smaller form against his chest, and her breath is hot on his shoulder as she whispers, a gentle croon meant for him alone. "I hate to see you suffer so. Please..."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The last time she had been forbidden to give him anything but water. But at that time, he had been only too eager to break out. Last time, he had not been susceptible to the carefully calculated schemes of a twisted and wicked snake. A snake that leans into him as she moves one hand to the hood of her jump suit, flipping it back and exposing more of her neck. The skin is pale, bare and right there in front of him. Medusa stares ahead into the wall behind D as she rests her cheek on his shoulder, her pupils slit and snakelike. Relax, she tells herself.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"... allow me to help you, beloved."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"N-nnnhh..."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The urge to take her in his arms and slip his fangs inside her skin is an overwhelming intoxication. He had tasted her blood before, hadn't he? But not to /feed/. Surprisingly clear comes the memory of his wrath loosed on Medusa in the form of a savage bite. He had bitten to inflict agony -- not, he thinks, in the throes of irresistible passion and hunger. The memory creates yet another layer of conflict inside him. Anger clashes against his acceptance of her kindness, and the loving croon of her voice. Beloved, she called him; and in that moment, he'd wanted her dead...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;His confusion, his sense of loss, is too great. The only sure feeling he /knows/ to be his is his innate need to /resist/ his want to feed. D swallows back another distressed growl and keeps his glare fixed on the ceiling. Though the air around him grows frosty and frightening, and though his skin seems too pale for life, he refuses to surrender, to slake the bestial hunger tearing him apart from within.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It will pass...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;...and all at once, it does.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;D slumps forward. His forehead comes to rest against her shoulder. He pants as if exerted, but his next murmur is relieved more than anything. "I cannot...forgive me for even asking it of you..."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Give the curse time to further its alterations of his being, and he may not be so disciplined; for now, her manipulations only succeed in making him more at ease in her company.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;For now Medusa remains close, hugging into the dhampir where he's chained. She is patient, calm and warm... alive. Part of her wonders if he'll try to kill her now. If so, then they will at least know whether the curse has been successful or not.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Even as he fights back that growl and keeps his gaze up on the ceiling, Medusa keeps her arms around him, all until he slumps against her. She remains still and steady, offering her support to his much larger frame, strong in her own way as her hands stroke his back. His words only makes her shake her head slightly, and she hugs him closer to her, a loving embrace. "It is okay... I am here for you, whenever you need me, beloved. If you need my blood, just let me know. Lest you hurt others who are unwilling..." She moves her head to kiss the top of his head, remaining there to offer any comfort he might need.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I will talk with the Field Marshal... I don't want to see you in chains any longer."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;A beast is so more entertaining when it's free to roam, after all.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The last shudder leaves him. D takes a deeper breath to steady his nerve and relax his racing heart. The hunger may yet gnaw, but for the moment, his cultivated serenity is restored to precedence. "Thank you," he murmurs, his deep voice muted by the closeness of her shoulder. "...I will remember what you have offered, Medusa."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Medusa? And not 'Miss Gorgon'? Oh, he's getting familiar, isn't he? Trusting? Where is his caution, his pride? Where is his loathing now? Where is the wrath which drove him to bite her in the heat of battle? The way he leans into her, an outside observer would think him utterly trusting of the woman holding him, or go so far as to misinterpret the embrace as a sign of love. The curse works in strange ways, rewriting his personality and memory, but for it to eradicate months of developed hatred is...something else.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;How will he react to Lord Dracula's presence? What will he make of Kagenashi? And the Union allies he trusts as friends -- what will happen when next he meets them?<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Those names and faces are far away from him, now. D closes his eyes, and accepts the peace Medusa instills in him, somehow not noticing the sinister satisfaction lurking in her voice and smile.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Well... that is a welcome change. Medusa smiles as she continues stroking D's back, nuzzling the top of his head before she places another kiss there. "Be patient, beloved. Crona awaits you too..." Does he remember her child? Or... are his memories more selective?<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Either way this is promising, and one thing is for certain... she wishes to be there when the Union finds out. When the corruption begins to take hold. It's a glorious occasion, and she will enjoy seeing how much she can twist this man into what he was meant to be. What he can truly become with the right amount of manipulation. And just to test the waters...<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;"I love you."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Like before, it's a whispered caress, now spoken right next to his ear as she waits for his reaction.<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:232|D (232)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The words open D's eyes.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Uncertainty churns in him like something slithering unseen beneath the water. Ripples and eddies disrupt his placid surface, carrying reminders of the deep hatred he felt for Medusa at first sight. His body stiffens in her arms, and though he does not physically move, he seems to retreat anyway, his mind and heart sinking back into a mire of conflicted thoughts and emotions. Without understanding why, he fixates his attention on the sword leaned up on the far wall, its gleaming length hardly visible for the shadows clinging to it.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He does not return her words. He does not return her feelings. The love she bears for him attempts to sink in and ease his renewed discomfort, but runs off him instead, like droplets of water running off an oiled canvas.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But those droplets must pool somewhere. The professed love settles somewhere far away. He may not return it now, but could it grow, given care and attention? There is apathy in his gaze now, but might it someday warm, if Medusa continues to speak such honeyed and pleasant lies?<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;D leans back. The chains around him rattle. He looks at her, and speaks quietly. "Thank you for your care...Medusa."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Patience. It's something she has a lot of.<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So even if she feels him stiffen, feels him attempting to draw away, she's still there. Soft, gentle and smiling, her eyes merely reflecting the whispered words. Some might call it a lie, but she appears sincere. There is emotion in her eyes, and her lips are warm and soft as they brush against his cheek. "I will see you soon, beloved. With more water, and food as well. You need to get your strength up. Once you are better you will be moved to medical..." Another kiss on his cheek, and Medusa gently unwraps her arms from him, reluctantly pulling back with a sigh. "I have work to tend to. I wish I could stay longer."<br /><br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Still, she is smiling. "The Field Marshal will speak with you later, I imagine."<br> <br>

:'''{{#var:22|Medusa Gorgon (22)}} has posed:'''<br><span></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Even so, the witch reaches out and slowly undoes the chains that bind the dhampir, smiling softly down at him as she does so. "I imagine your muscles ache at this point, beloved..."<br> <br>


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