Post by Deleted on Aug 27, 2009 12:12:38 GMT -5
"...I will tie him up. If he tries anything funny... I will not hesitate to kill or wound him instantly..."
The words had come to him as if from afar, promising the weight of chains that was rapidly delivered unto his person along with the scratching of blades as they parted flesh. Shaving cuts, the sensation was rather similar to such self inflicted injuries. Not that Davis often if ever cut himself shaving for his self control and discipline with a knife was iron... Having slowed his metabolism and being quite used to sufficiently larger applications of negative stimulus to his body, Davis remained quite still and for all appearances...Quite unconscious.
So he remained for quite some time, having no idea for just how long he travelled for when one inflicted the darkness upon oneself it became rather hard to keep track of time. Distance however was another matter, something the current union between his conscious mind and his subconscious mind kept a good track of ready to inform him once he came too fully. It was an odd sensation being carried off by these woman, something akin to forward motion yet there were no impacts of booted feet upon shattered ground. Had he of been more awake he would have of course made the connection given the wings they were possessed of, such that it was, the question remained unanswered...
Once he had ceased motion, his wounds having long closed upon the journey, healed, blood returned and swelling receded. Davis began the process to return himself from the self inflicted unconsciousness that had got him here. He could have of course done so during the journey but it suited him more to play up the head injury and slumber a little more as it were. Despite becoming fully awake once more, Davis kept his eyes closed. There was a trick to waking up in captivity after all.
So first he took a breath, his enhanced sense of smell taking in the fragrant pallet of the room he found himself in even as his sharpened hearing caught the report of anguished screams, the crack of whips and the drip drip drip of water...Though blood was more likely. This whole place smelled of it. Blood, sorrow, tears, waste. Clearly his captors sought to subject him to their most pleasant accommodation...
Taking the time to adjust to the rather unique palette of the place, served up with its cacophony of anguished sounds before opening his eyes. Davis found himself in darkness, not that this hindered him of course, seeing darkness much as he did daylight. Slowly he turned his head, taking in all there was to see from the dank walls of rough stones to the well made shackles that held his arms high above his head, it was a stress position, designed to keep the body tense all the while. Standard interrogation tactic Davis noted that clearly some things did not change no matter the world in which one found oneself.
He was still wearing the intricate bracers Strike had gifted him with, clearly there was some trick to them for while they had been pushed up his arms so that the shackles might bite into his wrist, cutting somewhat when he moved this way and that, but they had not been removed. Which made no sense to him, unless of course they were incapable of removing them. The same however could not be said for his weapons and webbing belt. Though his combats still adorned his lower body, minus the boots he had being wearing.
Even as he hung there, awaiting whomsoever it was who would come for him. Davis sniffed softly. He had after all, quite liked those boots...
The words had come to him as if from afar, promising the weight of chains that was rapidly delivered unto his person along with the scratching of blades as they parted flesh. Shaving cuts, the sensation was rather similar to such self inflicted injuries. Not that Davis often if ever cut himself shaving for his self control and discipline with a knife was iron... Having slowed his metabolism and being quite used to sufficiently larger applications of negative stimulus to his body, Davis remained quite still and for all appearances...Quite unconscious.
So he remained for quite some time, having no idea for just how long he travelled for when one inflicted the darkness upon oneself it became rather hard to keep track of time. Distance however was another matter, something the current union between his conscious mind and his subconscious mind kept a good track of ready to inform him once he came too fully. It was an odd sensation being carried off by these woman, something akin to forward motion yet there were no impacts of booted feet upon shattered ground. Had he of been more awake he would have of course made the connection given the wings they were possessed of, such that it was, the question remained unanswered...
Once he had ceased motion, his wounds having long closed upon the journey, healed, blood returned and swelling receded. Davis began the process to return himself from the self inflicted unconsciousness that had got him here. He could have of course done so during the journey but it suited him more to play up the head injury and slumber a little more as it were. Despite becoming fully awake once more, Davis kept his eyes closed. There was a trick to waking up in captivity after all.
So first he took a breath, his enhanced sense of smell taking in the fragrant pallet of the room he found himself in even as his sharpened hearing caught the report of anguished screams, the crack of whips and the drip drip drip of water...Though blood was more likely. This whole place smelled of it. Blood, sorrow, tears, waste. Clearly his captors sought to subject him to their most pleasant accommodation...
Taking the time to adjust to the rather unique palette of the place, served up with its cacophony of anguished sounds before opening his eyes. Davis found himself in darkness, not that this hindered him of course, seeing darkness much as he did daylight. Slowly he turned his head, taking in all there was to see from the dank walls of rough stones to the well made shackles that held his arms high above his head, it was a stress position, designed to keep the body tense all the while. Standard interrogation tactic Davis noted that clearly some things did not change no matter the world in which one found oneself.
He was still wearing the intricate bracers Strike had gifted him with, clearly there was some trick to them for while they had been pushed up his arms so that the shackles might bite into his wrist, cutting somewhat when he moved this way and that, but they had not been removed. Which made no sense to him, unless of course they were incapable of removing them. The same however could not be said for his weapons and webbing belt. Though his combats still adorned his lower body, minus the boots he had being wearing.
Even as he hung there, awaiting whomsoever it was who would come for him. Davis sniffed softly. He had after all, quite liked those boots...