MAN IS CONCEIVED IN SIN. [ERIS]

[Lyric Shikov]

The sound of his footsteps in the sewers were short and clipped. He was keeping his anger tightly in check, hidden beneath an impassive expression, but the way he felt was depicted in his tense, feral movements. He would be lying if he said he didn't move like a cat.

You need more experience. More practice. In the face of his alpha and beta, Lyric felt at a lack of words and experience. All he had was sheer determination and dedication, and the anger he felt was directed towards his own inexperience. He was active, participating in whatever was asked of him. He delivered messages, gave some orders, but he was always at a loss. He was raw. That was the word for it. Raw. He'd taken it upon himself to get more experience, or at least advice...

He'd stayed up late for nights ticking through a mental list of useful Carna. He did not, necessarily, want to face his predecessor to ask for advice. Lovely might have given it, but he was still uncertain as to whether or not there was insult between the two of them. When he thought of Eris, he began to ponder it. He hadn't been a member of Carna when she was the delta, but he had heard that she still harbored an interesting relationship with Manic, and maybe that closeness could offer Lyric an insight he was previously lacking. He'd asked around that morning, and she was currently interrogating some poor prisoner.

"Interrogating" was a term he thought of sardonically. Interrogation implied some resemblance of mercy or questioning. Lyric passed by another Carna before turning into the branch of sewers that were reserved for such activities. His eyes took in the light cast by the lantern in the corner. There were shackles in-bedded in the wall, and fixed there were a man and a woman, stripped of clothing and limp. He turned to look at the only other individual in the room. Eris, then. He didn't have a first impression, really. He didn't know what to think of her yet.

"Hello." His voice was low, emotionless. His tawny eyes, however, were alert and calculating. "I am Lyric. I am here to ask for your advice and assist you in this--" he jerked his head towards the prisoners. "If you need it." He was overly aware of his Russian accent int he relative silence, aware that he had been punctuating the harsher vowels of his words.

[Eris]

The petite, but delectably curvy female ignored the voice behind her at first, running the tip of a blade along the hips of the limp but whimpering male. She tilted her head. "Look at me." The male refused. She snarled and flogged him on the head with a small fist, swiftly prowling up to to his side and grabbing his jaw, yanking his face to face her's. "Oh, dear, you do not want to disobey." She released his face. The voice behind her continued- asking advice and asking to help. She turned around, her doe eyes locking with his. She was taken-back by his appearance but continued a poker face for a moment.
A mane of golden, chocolate hair flowed in waves over her shoulders and down to her waist, each tendril flowing with her movements as she strolled gracefully up to him. She always stood far too close- generally making others uncomfortable. "Hello, love." Her pump lips grinned, inches from his own, before she twirled back around towards the victims of her onslaught. 'You think you can handle this, tenderfoot?" Her disrespectful pet-name sounded all the more flirtatious from her velvety, melodious voice.
"By all means." She swiftly tossed the knife at him, waiting to see what he would do in the few seconds he had. She recalled being in the Delta position, but she was far too distracted by their...Alpha... She had a new position of her own, dedicated to specific jobs, most of them serving directly to Manic. She purred and bit her lip at the thought of him. Hungry eyes looked up at Lyric.
This was their new Delta then? Well, the idea proved much better in her mind than some other female. She was the only worthy female, in her eyes, to be of position.
Not that she was entirely sexist, but more-so that the example the majority of females in this Hell produced was not impressive...intelligent...or strong.
They focused more on finding a mate and making right decisions. So many things did not change.

[Lyric Shikov]

He grew impatient waiting for her to acknowledge him, but she was preoccupied. Lyric wondered if the show was for his benefit, or if she was merely interested in continuing uninterrupted. "You do not want to disobey." But then she turned to look at Lyric. Finally.

He couldn't help but think that he had just bought the prisoner a few extra seconds, as useless as they were. He took her in without expression, noting her long hair and curvaceous figure. Sexy, dangerous. Both of the words applied, and as she closed the distance between them, Lyric felt increasingly challenged. His eyes narrowed and his lips twisted into a sardonic smile. Tenderfoot, huh?

"I know I can." Lyric didn't want to give her the pleasure of an emotional response. He felt like she was trying to get a rise out of him, between her proximity and flirtatiousness. By all means.

The knife was tossed at him, and Lyric reacted accordingly, catching it by the handle. He knew that quite a bit of luck had just been involved, but he met her eyes with satisfaction. He looked over Eris' shoulder to the prisoners, and the man had risen his face to meet Lyric's eyes apprehensively. "Is this a part of my lesson?" He asked, sarcastically, before passing the inquisitor--he made sure that the entirety of his body brushed hers as he walked by--while making his way towards the man"What should I be asking him?" Insolence. That was the word that described his tone, as he cast a glance over his shoulder at the woman.

Without waiting for her answer, he regarded the man with a shrug. "Regardless, you better be spitting answers." He tucked the knife into his belt, and, with minimal effort, reached out and snapped the prisoner's index finger. He let out a sharp, surprised breath, and then a moan of pain. "You have to know something incriminating, or you wouldn't be here. So, what is it?"

The prisoner kept his mouth closed, defiantly. Lyric reached out and broke another finger like a toothpick. It filled him with sick, shameful pleasure. He knew that it was wrong, but he liked to be so in control of something. The pain was written plainly across the prisoner's face, along with rebellion. Lyric would break him of it, one way or another.

[Eris]

A growl rose in her throat when his body brushed her's. She looked him up and down and was not sure for a moment if they would clash thunderously or if their similarities would keep them in sync with one another. She could face the fact... She wasn't in sync with anyone. She wasn't even capable of pretending to be in sync with the most alike and gorgeous being on this false earth.
She could only revel in who she was- or rather, "what" she was and who she served. "Lyric- that's pretty feminine, huh?" She chuckled childishly, pearly white flashing before jumping a little at the sound of a bone snapping. Her fawn eyes looked up at him in surprise before she shook the expression away, glancing over at the female victim. She was saving the female for later. Eris found the arms on that one delightful and thought perhaps Manic would think so too. She tilted her head thoughtfully and reminisced on dark and beautiful days, not sure why everyone complained so much about being here. The Menagerie to her was a safe haven- one she grew strong and unbeatable in. Out there was not freedom- it was disgust...horrible people and raunchy intentions. Her fawn eyes hazed over at the horror with in her, the sickness of the men she often tortured... an insatiable hunger that manifested itself in her.
She strolled up to Lyric's side, running her fingers along his hips, tugging lightly at the fabric. "You're looking for advice on what exactly?" She purred and circled around to his other side with a mischievous smile. She leaned lightly against the torture-tool table, spinning the knife from his belt-line nimbly in her fingers.
With in moments, she dropped to the earth and rose up in the air as a swift cheetah, pouncing excitedly at him in an effort to pin him down. She shifted back, sitting upon him with a smile. "Know your enemy." She snarled, grabbing his fingers in her fragile hand, pushing them back with the threat that she was capable of breaking them. "Every extra move you make is time lost." She knew that an opponent would learn from extra assaults. After touching her fore-head sweetly to his, she leaped back up and turned around offensively, eyes calculating, muscles strained and prepared.
"Whatcha' got?" She challenged the attractive Delta. She held respect for one and only- her Master who guided and watched over them all. Yes, he was a God. Her God. Her entire essence was of him.

[Lyric Shikov]

Lyric didn't bother to glance at her. He was staring into the bloodshot eyes of the prisoner, with apparent indifference. "It is actually Liricheskiy, but most people cannot pronounce it." He did not elaborate further. He did not tell her that in all actuality it was a nickname on two accounts, and that his actual name was Zivon. In a place like the Menagerie, it did not matter, regardless.

He felt as though he should have expected her next touch, her hands at his hips, but it caught him by surprise. He stiffened and dropped his hands to his side, flexing his fingers. The man in front of him was groaning, but Lyric's attention was diverted to the woman as her deft fingers plucked the knife from his person.

"On leadership." What he did not say was on Manic, which was one of the real reasons he was there. He returned his attention to the prisoner, thinking of how to further the interrogation, but Eris had other intentions. He was caught by surprise and, before he knew it, pinned under the lithe body of a cheetah. He narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth. "Are we not supposed to be allies?" His voice was a purr. She bent his fingers, but Lyric made his hand into a fist, no doubt stronger than she was--he would hold his grip on them very tight for a matter of seconds, making the strength evident in his grasp. He released them.

"Every extra move you make is time lost." He had never heard that advice. Lesta had always told him to drag out a fight, but that had been in a ring where it was all for show. She stood after pressing her face close to him (why was it it Lyric kept thinking she was going to kiss him?). He did not pause between one motion to the next, because he was suddenly rising to his feet and shifting as he rose, so that when he was up and lunging in her direction, he was a mountain lion. Lyric hoped to catch her by surprise, being that he came up with all the strength of his legs, aiming to hit her squarely in her shoulders with most of his strength.

[Eris]

"On leadership." He said, as she continued to note that he had an even stranger name than she thought and did not care to continue discussion on it. She was fixated on his lips, the curve of them and the way they moved when he spoke. She shivered slightly before looking back up at his eyes. It took her a moment to process the words that had actually come from his mouth. She had been a little off lately- easily distracted and foggy-minded. She grinned at last when she realized what he had meant and just what he wanted advice on. "On being like a leader would be or on pleasing a leader?" She giggled light-heartedly. "Oh, I don't think you have the talent for such things." She teased. She noted the strength in his fist and thought perhaps he was over-confident in his strength. He did not account for being quick and clever, much as she relied on as her own talents. As a very petite and thin female, the strength she spoke of was with in her.
"Are we not supposed to be allies?" He chimmed in, but her eyes glazed over and she focused on the pain in her waist. The pain returned now and again consistently all day- throwing off her game and creating a long and painful torture process for her latest two victims. "Are we not supposed to be allies?" It repeated in her head. "What?" She winced at the stab of pain again. What was that? She thought about her slightest baby-bump. She was too thin and over-clothed for it to be seen, but a infant of her own Master grew with in her every day. She had never been happier- stronger- healthier. Her hair had a shine to it and her skin glowed. She had even gained some muscle and skin color.
She couldn't hear him properly but once it processed, she wanted to laugh. She had gotten in trouble with her dearest leader on several occasions for picking fights with Carna members. Many she got away with without notice, but he taught her a lesson at one point. "Allies, yes, but you came to me for help. And so I will help you." She grinned- her loophole to letting off steam. There were so many Carna members she felt unworthy of her Master- so many of them that she wanted to destroy for their stupidity.
She knelt down in a pouncing position as she morphed, eyes narrowed with focus and in determination. He jumped with intense energy and she prepared herself to easily side-step and prepare her own attack, but she froze up, brow furrowing as her cheetah form recoiled in pain at the waist before Lyric's cougar form slammed into her.
She was sent half-way across the room, shrinking into her human form and holding her waist with a tight fist and clenched teeth. Once the pain faded enough for her to look up, her pupils narrowed into feline-like slits and she snarled with maternal protectiveness, misplacing the blame for her pain on him.
Her form enlarged back into a cheetah and she lost her temper with cheetah "clicks" and hisses, leaping back at him, jaws aiming to grab his throat.

[Lyric Shikov]

Lyric cocked a brow. "Both." If nothing else, she was intuitive--and her teasing, although it sounded light, had struck a chord in him. He was going to be a good Delta, and he would please Manic, if only because he had been treated with disbelief until this point.

Her eyes were blank. Lyric repeated himself, and gauged her reaction. His eyes narrowed on her, then, assessing. He might not have been emotional, but when he looked, genuinely looked he could name expressions on others. She looked like she was in pain.

And so I will help you. As though nothing had happened. He was left bemused, but it didn't show, especially as their little "fight" began. He had to admit, he was genuinely surprised when she did not retaliate his attack, and he mentally grimaced. He thought she would dodge, or come towards him, not be sent flying--but whatever shame he felt was erased by a sense of pleasure. Who needs help?

He had known it had even been a weak attack, which did not account for the way she hadn't defended herself, nor the pain that edged her body and face. Something was wrong with--

She shifted abruptly and lunged. Lyric had years' worth of fighter instincts, and that was perhaps the only thing that saved him. He twisted his body away from her, towards the right, and her jaws latched onto his shoulder rather than his throat. He let out a furious yowl and twisted his body, shaking his shoulders and then jerking to his hind legs (presuming she was still gripping his shoulder), aiming his forelegs abruptly upward, one towards her jaw, in an attempt to latch his claws into her face and force her off of him, the other towards her ribs, merely to cause damage.

He didn't even feel thrilled, really. Just detached. The pain was a dull throb. His heart was steady. Danger didn't do what it used to, it seemed.

[Eris]

Disoriented, she clenched her jaws together tighter and locked them, letting him flail and kick at her- either way, she set her goals on hanging on tight. Her dog-like paws' design did not pose as much a threat as his own large, retractable claws, but she made an effort to dig her front paws in anyway. "Both" Is what he had previously said. He was very serious about it and had not taken kindly to her teasing. Why did he wish to please Manic? Not everyone could be so dedicated, but the fact that he was making an effort made him, if nothing else, worthy of the Carna. Her distracted thoughts gave enough time for his push at her ribs to shove her off, She braced herself, muscles bunching up prepared to leap again... But this had to stop, or they'd both be in trouble. The two half-crescent shaped scars on her shoulder proved that. "Never lose your head." She struggled with herself and her intense desire to try to fight him to the death. Instead, her cheetah form returned to its small and feminine shape.
She felt exhausted at this point, which was strange for someone of her level of fitness.
"Why do you want to please him?" She tried to redirect the conversation. "To keep your position?" A small growl rose in her throat. "Or because you are genuinely dedicated to him? Why? Would you give your life for him?" Her words were intense, but she leaned against the table full of tools. "Because that's what it takes. Are you really ready for that? It is a greater bond than the finest love stories." She half-smiled at the idea, but it was true. It was true to her. A small amount of blood dripped from her forehead and her ribs and she dabbed her fingers in it. "Idiot." She hissed rudely.
"Let me ask you this- is your heart in the right place? You would serve someone with all your might- someone that would kill your children if He deemed it just by the law of our ring?" Her big, fawn eyes watched him curiously, waiting to see if he would fumble to say what he thought were all the right things to say or if his honesty would shine through. And if so, what did his honesty look like? She trusted her Master and for that reason, she trusted he would have picked a Delta with something special. What that was, she was not sure yet.
Her eyes glazed over and she pursed her lips for only a moment as one more wave of pain came and went. She remained as stoic as she could, distracting from their small fight with words of interests and questions that, despite her lack of original, genuine interest, may actually help him. His answer is what would make it interesting. She stood up straight and circled around him, close and smooth in move, eyes locking with his.
His outward appearance had her purring with pure delight, delicate fingers softly playing with strands of her long locks. His training was not the problem. She knew he was strong and she got a small taste of his training- which she could already tell was talented at the least. But that was not what created not only a great servant, but a great leader.

[Lyric Shikov]

He didn't believe they were at a stalemate, but he wasn't willing to take the lesson farther then she wanted it to go, and from the seems of it, her little "lesson" was finished. Never lose your head.

She untangled herself, and Lyric followed suit, shifting as she did. The crook of his shoulder was raw and bleeding, but it was not unbearable or fatal. He stood. "Says the girl who went for my throat." As he said it, he turned to face the prisoners again. The man had been watching the exchange with disdainful, slit eyes, pain evident in the tense line of his shoulders. Lyric couldn't read the girl--she was a blank, pretty page. He wondered why she hadn't been "interrogated" yes.

He continued to stare at her as Eris spoke, keeping his face impassive. Her words were catching him by surprise, their intensity getting under his skin even if he didn't show it. He didn't reply for several seconds, thinking about it. Even when she insulted him, Lyric's contemplation did not break. He merely smiled, a thin, feral expression.

"You speak of him as though he is God." Lyric did not speak religion very often. He had no faith in it. He raised a hand and touched his shoulder gingerly, pulling his fingers away crimson. That is what he believed in. Flesh and blood. He met her gaze steadily. "And maybe that's why I'm dedicated to him. He is a God in the Menagerie. I respect him. I fear him. I can't say I've ever felt that for anyone else in the past. You ask me if my heart is in the right place, and I will tell you that I am not just interested in my self-gain. I am in the wrong Ring for that, because I have no hopes of gaining more rank then this, and if I were truly ambitious, I would want the world." His smile was crooked now, but it did not meet his eyes. Very few things did, however. "I want to please him because I have things to prove. He enthralls me, honestly. He evokes such dedication and I... don't necessarily understand it."

He raised a hand subconsciously to the Carna mark on his bicep, feeling at the scars. He was surprised with himself. He was surprised that he was telling the whole, genuine truth, for once in his life. But what was the point in lying anymore? He had come for help, not to deceive. "I would do whatever he told me to. I don't half-commit to something, and now I have something to prove, a challenge." Aurora, the exception to being a full commitment, flashed in his mind. She was a loose thread, something that he could not bear to end. He cleared his throat and continued. "But to give my life for him?" Lyric's eyes glinted, for the first time, with something dark. "I... don't know."

He thought about it. Manic was a legend, and Lyric had accepted something before he had ever even come to the Menagerie. He would never, ever be a legend. And if he had (and Lyric had always had) such a lack of... well, appreciation for his own life. Why would his death matter, really? The selflessness of the question, however, is what had him caught. "I don't know," he repeated, looking at her steadily. One of the prisoner's moaned. "I don't think things like that through. I act. If it came down to it, maybe."

[Eris]

"Says the girl who went for my throat." She crackled up in giggles, flashing a big, toothy grin before listening oddly intently to his explanation. Perhaps it was important to her that Manic's top servants be completely dedicated, and if she were to get the inside story, she wasn't going to miss out on it. He's not lying. She thought, watching his features and trying to read him. Eris watched the darkness in his eyes and wondered what he was thinking. Was that doubt? Acceptance? Both? Her purrs had long since stopped, and the small frown on her face was enough to say how she felt about him not knowing...his "maybe" answer. It was quiet for awhile- a quiet that Eris was not generally capable of. Lyric stirred something with in her, or perhaps her day's on and off pain was going to her head. "He chose you for a reason." She thought out loud. "You'll find your solid answer in time. And then...we'll all know." Know what? If he was truly a Delta of Manic- a servant to their Master.
She tilted her head to one side, thinking about his reference to religion, organizing and rethinking all his words. A God? She did not see the silly part of that statement and only blinked with her deep eyes.
She grabbed a tube of antibiotic ointment and a wash-cloth off the tablet and boldly came up to his side. "Stay still, tenderfoot." She spoke softly, cleaning his wound gently with the washcloth before rubbing some ointment into his shoulder with delicate fingers. Now why would she have those items for torture? Because the only thing better than harming is fixing the harm done and harming again.
"What would you die for, Liricheskiy?" She set the items down on the table, something with in her wanting to dig deeper intellectually with this young man and the other side wanting to pick another fight and tear him apart. Unfortunately, it was not her Alpha's wishes for her to pick fights. Such a shame though- as it was one of her many talents.
Eris didn't realize her frail arms shaking lightly. She had to stifle any whimpers that threatened their way through her lips, and stay focused on the current situation. After only two months, she hadn't a clue what was going on. Many things were not her forte- this being one of them.
She heard the moan from one of the prisoners and hissed, eyes gazing to determine which it had been. She couldn't distinguish which had made the noise, but her temper rose again, looking back at the new Delta with narrowed eyes. Her vision blurred and came back in focus and then repeated. Despite her great skill at a poker-face, she looked confused.

[Lyric Shikov]

He gauged her reaction. She seemed to play the part of ardent loyalist, and a part of him expected outrage at his declaration of uncertainty. No, that wasn't something he could just know the answer to. "You're right."

It was a curiously deep conversation, and it certainly wasn't what Lyric had anticipated when he had come to find her. Nor was her behavior exactly what he thought it would be. He couldn't overlook the fact that there was something... off about her. "... tenderfoot, eh? I guess I haven't proved myself yet." But he listened to her, surprised by the gentleness of her touch.

"What would you die for, Liricheskiy?" Once again, his answer did not come immediately. He walked to the table, retrieved the ointment, and returned to her. He tended to the injury on her face with a delicate touch, but left those on her ribs untouched. He idly turned from her to place the medicine next to a particularly violent looking knife, smirking at the irony of it, his back to her and the prisoners. He heard her hiss, but he did not see her expression.

Aurora. He would die for Aurora, because she made him feel alive. But he couldn't say that. She was forbidden to him. And so he said the next best thing, although he had the feeling that it wouldn't make sense to anyone but himself, and maybe Rory. Life. "I would die to feel alive." He turned to look at her, then. He was the man who would leap without looking, just for the thrill. That's what he would die for; the moment of adrenaline, of sharp fear, of flight. So maybe what he told her wasn't right, either. Maybe he was just a gloryhound, looking for something exciting.

He didn't know, really.

The entire time she had been pushing his boundaries, and now he returned the favor, with an expression of boredom, or insolence. He walked until they were toe-to-toe, raising a hand to grip her chin, keeping her eyes on his. His thumb was at the edge of her mouth, digging into her skin. This close, he could not help but think that she was unhinged.

"You are darling. Like fire. Not all of us have the luxury." His yellow eyes were steady. "Da," Lyric said. "I think I would die for Manic." He released her face, stepped back. They were such sharp, abrupt motions that they seemed violent. "And you?"

He knew the answer.

translations: Da - Yes

[Eris]

"...tenderfoot, eh? I guess I haven't proven myself...yet."
She looked away thoughtfully. 'It's not that.' She did not bother to say this out loud. As long as he thought she looked down upon him (and in some ways she truly did), then he would humble himself in ways and not grow cocky. Or his efforts to impress would increase- both desirable qualities in a ring member. She rarely saw a Carna praising their offspring. She supposed it just was not their style. Her shoulders dropped at his touch, the coolness of the medicine comforting the small wound. Her eye-lids fell lazily and her muscles seemed to relax. The subtle shaking went away. Her lively eyes opened once more to watch him move and speak.
She noted his slightly delayed answer, his aura of thought and hesitance. "I would die to feel alive." She could understand that. Not that she herself was a thrill seeker, but more so that all the thrill in her life had desensitized her to the feeling of it in a way.
Her unnatural relaxed self vanished when he gripped her chin and dug into the skin of her lips. She stiffed up, but stayed put, debating the fine line of her desire to kiss him and her desire to kill him. "You are darling. Like fire. Not all of us have that luxury."
"Luxury, dear?" She looked oddly serious for someone as childish and excitable as herself. "Those like fire have been burned." She aided in his release by wriggling away from his grip.
"And you?"
I have already died for him... "In a heartbeat." She shrugged. "I would like to say certainty and honor keep this ring alive, but that would be a lie. Everyone here has selfish intentions and twisted mind sickness.That will not make them great though."
She looked him up and down, advancing upon him the same way he had her. She was far more at ease when it was her idea. The lust of mankind was a disgusting strength and a hard-falling weakness. She'd perfected turning their strength into their most foolish down-fall. She gripped his chin as well, although far more gently. Her other hand rested on her shoulder. She lightly touched, velvety and tantalizing. Her eyes glanced up at him through thick, dark lashes- a small, teasing smile gracing her face.
Perhaps feeling true pain was what he lacked- being burned, defiled, destroyed, and brought down so far that the only way he could go was up. "Have you ever been burned?" What was his reason for being in this ring? What blood-thirst kept him going? What impassioned him to do that which was generally unacceptable? Did anything truly drive him in this direction at all?

[Lyric Shikov]

He found that hard to believe. Lyric had met his fair share of "fiery" people outside, many of them who would crumble under the weight of the Menagerie, and many of them at least appeared to have picturesque lives. He said nothing, merely made a noncommittal noise, shaking his head.

But then he laughed, the sound harsh. "What an optimistic thought." She made some things seem so black and white. How could she ask him these questions and expect a real, genuine answer? Or say these things? At least she knew the truth. That people were selfish and bloodthirsty.

She began to slink in his direction, smooth and graceful. He eyed her with distrust, but he did not break away from her, even when her hands touched him gently, almost sensually. The effect it had was instant. His expression had been bored before, but now it was stony, his eyes walled shut, the line of his jaw taking on a hard edge. "Da. Plenty of times."

Maybe he would play along with her. He let himself relax, muscle by muscle, as though her touch and her gaze actually had a good effect on him. Then he raised a hand, laced his fingers through hers, and with his other hand reached out to place on her hip and jerk her close, so that they were flush against one another. Their mouths were close, even, but Lyric's eyes were smoldering and disdainful.

"Are you deciding that there is nothing in me? Am I empty? Do I need to be burned?" His voice held something in it, something steel-edged despite the fact it was barely above a whisper. "And you, have you been burned? Or are you broken? I noticed. I noticed each time that pain crossed your face, and you grew weak. That shouldn't have happened."

He released her, stepped away.

[Eris]

She lifted an eye brow, feeling blown off by his reactions. But then, he had come to to her- and he could take it or leave it. His questions harassed her in the same way she had to him. It was occurring to her that they may have more things in common than she thought- other than their bad attitudes. A small, feminine squeak escaped her lips when he pulled her close. He was certainly much stronger than herself, but she was still torn between wanting to see him in pain and...and what? Her round eyes said she didn't know. "Have you been burned?" Her eyes hazed over, her heart beat sounding like a drum on cue in her ears. She saw flames, ironically enough. The image dissipated. "Are you broken?" Images of several faces filed in her memory flashed before her- another loud heart beat. "I noticed." Another heart-beat.
"I noticed each time that pain crossed your face, and you grew weak. That shouldn't have happened." The last beat released her mentally just as he did physically, and she sunk to her knees out of his grasp.
"Nothing happened!" She snarled temperamentally, her glare leaving him as she turned away, defeated. Her long, wavy hair tumbled beautifully to the floor as she knelt, and one fragile, nervous hand played with the strands. She was intensely hormonal from this struggling and very early pregnancy, she decided, giving an excuse for her strange, unlikely emotions. There was a lump in her throat and tears stung at her eyes- something this femme fatale of steel had never been seen doing.
"I don't want to kill you." She choked down a strange sob. "So you're free to go."
She hung her head, the turmoil with in her being held down mentally- despite how her body ached to morph and attack. She shivered with disrupted anticipation.
This fool wouldn't last here. He would serve well, but he would not last. Few ever did. The disdain in his eyes made her cold- and she was tired of cold, over-bearing males. The law barely kept her from attacking...and something else... Something else about him made her less willing to think about his organs spread across the floor.
This Lyric had come to her, she believed, to go through the motions. So many people just went through the motions, but it never meant anything real- never taught them anything deeper. Aside from being selfish and blood-thirsty, the ranks were over-confident and pompous. Most did not have the right to such feelings.

[Lyric Shikov]

He did not feel pity for the creature on the floor. But he certainly didn't hate her, either, and when he looked down at Eris he simply... well, looked, devoid of expression.

If anything, Lyric was surprised. He had not expected Carna's Inquisitor to be such a wreck. But he felt that this was atypical behavior, something that didn't happen on a regular basis. Either that, or he was a bad judge of character. Lyric shifted his weight and crossed his arms, listening to her. Threatening him, even when she was on her knees. He offered a grudging smile.

"Fine. But we aren't finished. I have more questions for you." It was strange, but he felt better after talking to her, not as angry, not as directionless. He couldn't say that he had actually learned anything new, but saying his thoughts out-loud had done wonders to harden his resolve.

He glanced at her again. "Take care of yourself, Eris." He didn't look back as he stepped out of the dimly lit torture chamber, back into the darkness of the sewer corridor.

Have you ever been burned? He thought that the question would continue to bother him. He subconsciously raised a hand to the pendant at his neck, Rory's present, running his fingers along the grooves of word inscribed there. Pravda. Truth and justice.

There was no room for that, here, and the thought filled him with so much pain he could hardly stand it. But he did.

[Eris]

-- END THREAD --

note: the atypical behavior in this thread vaguely illustrates that the manic x eris child is a miscarriage