#like i was gonna draw him brandishing a knife and being all evil-like

[smile-files]

(tw for blood & gore!!!)

oh, so i am real!

[luckgods]

Opus 10, part 2: Dexter, Sinister

Prompt: “Paralyzed by fear” for Bad Things Happen Bingo Warnings: torture, mostly non-graphic violence, past minor character death, panic attacks, dissociation, some ableism against a sometimes-nonverbal character Word count: 2.1k Summary: Luce finds themself captured by a stranger with a grudge.

—

So. This is... bad. Fuck.

Luce generally tried to be a realist. But some situations called for preparation for the worst.

Case in point: being tied to a chair and having a knife brandished at you by some evil... oh, that chestplate, she was a Storm-Hunter. Whoops.

Maybe keeping the stolen cloak hadn't been the best idea. (Well, was it really stealing when they were already dead? And the Storm-Hunters had threatened and then nearly killed Vesca, which technically made them the aggressors, so Luce felt pretty justified.) And it was enchanted! Cloaks like that didn't just fall out of the sky every day.

Well, that was fine. Luce could deal. Even if this lady couldn't. Find out what she wants, give it to her, get out. Or distract her until Ari notices I'm gone. Easy as pie.

Which was a funny phrase, because Luce had seen Uncle Keren's pie recipe, and it did not look simple at all. Focus.

Appease, distract, mitigate. It was just another performance: find out what they wanted, give it to them, get out before they realize you'd emptied their pockets.

Showtime.

"Why... what do you want with me?" Luce aimed for halfway between confused and frightened.

"Where did you get that cloak?" the woman asked.

Ah. Easy. "Stole it out of some rich idiot's hotel room in Voiraux. You'd think they'd get better security with all their money, right?" They forced a laugh.

Really, Storm-Hunter or no, it was embarrassing that this woman had gotten the drop on Luce. Luce was supposed to notice if the people around them were dangerous. Can’t protect anyone without the basic ability to identify threats.

"I think you're lying," the woman said.

Luce widened their eyes slightly, and then pressed their lips together. "I'm not, I promise, I— do you want it? You can have it! I didn't realize anyone would— well, obviously I stole it, but rich people don't usually even notice if something goes missing, that's why—"

"Shut up!"

Luce snapped their mouth shut.

"I don't want the cloak, I want to know which member of your little cadre killed my brother in Atropos!"

Oh. Double fuck.

"Well. Um."

Luce squinted at the woman's face. She didn't look familiar.

New plan: distract. Her brother... possibly the boss. Fucker deserved what he got. Possibly some goon. Also deserved what they got. Worth guessing? Can't hurt.

"He was the... leader?"

"Yes," the woman hissed, "and he was going to make us rich. And renowned. And you fucked it all up."

Keep her talking.

"In our defense, he did trick and then nearly murder our friend. He tell you about that? I mean, not the murder part, on account of... yeah, but the seduction. It was a whole thing."

The woman turned her back on Luce, and exited the room. She re-entered holding a cocked crossbow.

"You know, carrying loaded weapons is—hnnf—"

"You don't get to speak about him."

Crossbow bolt to the stomach. That's a new one.

Luce tilted their head back, glancing at the ceiling. They couldn't hide the grimace on their face, but they could give themself the dignity of some false privacy while they schooled their face back into some semblance of calm.

"Could have just... told me."

"You're lucky I need you to tell me how to get to your friends, or that bolt would have gone into your chest. Or maybe not so lucky."

Luce affected a wide, strained smile. "Any day I'm living... is better than one I'm not."

"Let's test that, shall we?" the woman asked. She turned away again. Probably to grab more weapons.

Well, if that's how she wants to play it. "You could always... ask... your brother."

The woman screamed in rage and whirled on Luce, planting a heel in their stomach, knocking the chair onto its back. Pain exploded up into their chest, down their spine, burst across their skull where it collided with the ground. Their lungs were paralyzed, burning but unable to draw in air.

Okay. New plan. Fuck. Fucking ow. Avoid dying until Ari notices I'm gone. Piece of fucking cake. Then avoid dying when Isaure has to fix me. No, unrealistic. Avoid dying until Isaure can kill me herself. It's the least she deserves.

Anything to distract from the pain.

Luce didn't realize they'd shut their eyes until their head spun as the chair was hefted back upright. The woman was back. They'd missed her footsteps. Lot of use you are. Focus.

They grunted as the change in position jolted the crossbow bolt, still embedded in the back of the chair—and their torso. Couldn't help but wince, wincing made it hurt worse. Tears welled up in their eyes.

"Weak, aren't you?"

Like to see you get shot and tossed around and shed nary a tear, Luce thought, but their voice was no longer working. Fine. "Fuck you," they whispered.

"What was that?" You fucking heard me. The woman laughed. "Not so tough at all. Tell me where your friends are or I'll figure out a way to make you scream."

Luce glared up at her. If their hands had been free, they'd have had a lot to say to her, not that she'd understand any of it. "Not fucking scared of you," they whispered instead. "Figure out a fucking way."

The woman's brow furrowed. Take that. "Is that a challenge? No matter. You'll tell me, or you'll die in misery and I'll just have to hunt your friends down myself."

She hefted a metal rod—fire poker, should have noticed, oh fuck—and swung it down on Luce's forearm. Luce heaved out a voiceless gasp. Oh, Lady. This is only going to get worse.

More blows. Arms, legs. A couple to the chest, not too many, probably doesn't want to break a rib and risk collapsing a lung, so considerate. More questions. The stomach was the worst. Like being shot anew every time the poker made contact. Gonna be puking blood when this is over. Luce didn't answer. Didn't scream. Would have struggled to produce a full-throated sound, even if they'd wanted to. Broken speech is good for something. Bet she's mad.

Eventually, the beating stopped. Luce could hardly tell through the tears blurring their sight, but they'd bet good money that the woman's face was contorted in fury.

Their theory was confirmed when she growled, "Why won't you break!"

Luce offered up a shaky grin in response. Squeezing their eyes shut to concentrate, they whispered, "Untie... hands... I'll tell you."

The woman only snarled in response. Worth a try.

Luce kept their eyes closed, tracking her retreat with their ears instead. Leaving. Regrouping. Good. Time. Speed up, Maré. Need you.

They half-drifted, breathing in time with the pulsing in their stomach. Ari, Maré, Maré, find me. Don't tell Darnell, he doesn't need to see. Secret, safe, secret, keep it. Time. Give it time. Find me.

The woman returned. Her steps were slow and heavy.

"What," Luce murmured, head lolling to the side, eyes blinking open lazily. Weapon? Knife. Hunting. I'm the prey. Threat established, they closed their eyes again. It wasn't much, but the darkness was a slight balm to their headache.

"Everyone fears something," the woman said. "You don't fear pain, I'll give you that. But you fear something. Death, I can tell. You don't want to die." She paused for a long moment. "Fire, probably."

Luce couldn't restrain the slight laugh that escaped them. Fire. Nothing would be as terrible as the all-engulfing flame that had scarred them in the first place. No, they didn't fear fire.

"Not fire," the woman concluded. Whoops. Ah well, she deserves one for free.

"You're a peacock. If you weren't already disfigured, maybe a threat to your pretty face would get you to talk."

"Rude," Luce whispered. "Still pretty."

"Still, there's more than one way to skin a kobold. You still wear makeup. Hands?"

Luce did not freeze. Their breath did not hitch. They forced their lips to curl into a smile. "So sweet... you noticed."

She doesn't know. Don't let her know. She doesn't know, she can't know, don't let her know, hide, hide, hide-hide-hide.

The silence dragged on and on. Luce put all their concentration into looking as unconcerned as possible. They regretted closing their eyes. Wished they could see the woman's face, couldn't risk looking and letting her know they cared. Couldn't move, for fear. Rabbit in the open. Pretend it's on purpose, but could you move if you wanted to?

Head hanging. Eyes closed. Playing dead. Being dead. The dead don't feel fear. Remember, the best way to sell a trick is to believe it yourself. Nobody likes a jaded magician. But don't over-sell. Watch my hands. How does it feel to see something impossible? Good, use that. That's what you're selling.

"Ears," the woman finally continued. "I see you tracking me. Neat trick, with your eyes closed. And of course your smart mouth."

Smart mouth, Luce echoed soundlessly. The last of their voice was gone. They opened their eyes.

The woman was twirling her knife. The front of Luce's shirt was wet with blood, cooling and crusting over. Probably the back as well. Their stomach burned. Their limbs throbbed in time with their pulse, too fast. I just want this to be over.

Focus on the pain. Like that hit to your stomach. Hurts, right? That's why you can't go down. Stay up, keep fighting. Doesn't matter how much it hurts. You go down, you're out, kid. Fight's over. In the ring, it don't matter, but in real life, you die. Got that?

"Hands first, I think. Then your tongue, then your ears. We'll see if I can't make you scream before then. I doubt it, given your apparent... defects, but we can try nonetheless."

No, no, no, no. Anything else. Can't perform without my hands, can't fight, can't talk. Be useless. Change her mind. Anything else.

Lower your eyes, Luce, don't look so invested. Watch your breathing. Not too fast, but not too slow, either. Smile. Look confident. Remember, you have something that they want. Confident, not cocky, Luce. They have something you want, too. Make them feel good about giving it to you.

"Knife or club, do you think? Is it worse to have fingers broken beyond repair, or no fingers at all?"

Frozen. Neither. Anything else. No more magic. No more fighting. No more sign language. Trapped, voiceless, again, forever.

Use your words, Luce. Negotiate with me.

...I'm sorry, Mom. I can't.

Then there was shouting and flames, almost pleasantly warm, dancing at the walls, when did it get so cold? Shouting, orange and purple bolts of magic flying past, a familiar dry voice saying "buckle up, bud, this is gonna suck."

Luce exhaled through gritted teeth as someone yanked at the crossbow bolt. Hands on their shoulders, hands on their stomach, a hand holding their own, pressing reassurances into it, words like safe and home and free.

Voices were passing over their head, the words lost in the buzz of adrenaline, a wave of exhaustion crashing over them in the aftermath of fear fear fear. Where was Ari? There. Warm and soft and safe, crooning soft reassurances to Luce's low humming. I was afraid. I wasn't good enough. I waited. You found me. Be careful, she's looking for you, the Storm-Hunter. They tried to stand up but their knees buckled underneath them, a web of hands and arms catching them mid-fall, settling them gently onto the floor.

"The woman, she's a Storm-Hunter, she wants revenge," Luce signed.

"She's been taken care of," said Isaure, in her typical understated fashion. "And you're next."

She sounded like she wanted to say more. Luce raised their eyebrows at her. Isaure shook her head in response. She looked tired.

Bad, then.

"Ari," Luce whispered, and there she was, on their right, Darnell on their left, Tesla twining around the three of them. "Am I okay?" Don't lie.

"You're going to be," she promised.

Luce hummed in agreement. "Got me... just in time," they said. I was so afraid, they didn't say. "'M cold," they said.

Ari turned to look at Isaure. Luce's head swam. Tesla chirped his sound of distress. Why? Maybe because of the water. Yes, the water. It was cold, which was why Luce was cold. It distorted and clouded the shapes around them and muffled the sounds. But it was nice in the water. It didn't hurt so much. Luce slipped under the surface and let the currents tug them away.