[ He's almost impressed that someone - or rather, a group of someones - has actually been able to capture him after all this time. Usually they just kill him if they find him in a vulnerable position, but apparently he's forgotten to change up his appearance enough because someone figured it out that he keeps coming back if they just kill him.
Trapping him and keeping him in this dungeon like an animal, however, could last indefinitely. Still, he sits and grins whenever one of his captors enters the room to make sure he eats something and doesn't starve himself to death so he can regenerate elsewhere. He's muzzled so he can't bite, but his sharp, white teeth can be seen through the slots they've so generously given him so he can eat without removing it.
There's a heavy metal collar around his neck chained to the wall, and his arms and legs are shackled as well. He can't stand up straight nor lay down with the length of the chains, and there's no doubt in his mind that being forced to sit hunched over like this is an intentional sort of torture.
He's clearly still taller than almost any human. His red eyes reflect light like the eyes of an animal, and his shaggy black hair hangs down to his back. He growls under his breath when someone enters, staring at the person they've sent down to him this time. ]
It's Nadine, right? I heard you talking outside.
[ His powers may be muted here, but there's still a certain sort of chill that fills the room when he speaks someone's name. Frightening, but in a way that - against your better judgement - makes you want more. A name on his lips is cold as ice and sweet as sugar all at once.
They're not supposed to talk to him. Everyone has been briefed about the dangers of conversing with the Dark Man. But that doesn't mean he can't try. ]
[There is no joy taken in this particular task. Nadine thinks she'd be very happy to never have to go into this dark little room, to never even look into it's dim cold. She knows what's in here, knows what he's capable of - to an extent. They say he's been neutralized but...
It isn't up to her, though. And even he needs to eat, to be tended to. Powerful as he is he's still a living creature with a living creature's needs. To withhold them would be cruelty and Nadine doesn't condone cruelty. Even towards something like this.
She hesitates in the doorway, tray of food held in her hands. There are rules. Don't engage, don't listen, don't talk to him. Ignore whatever he may say.
Still...her eyes go to him when he speaks her name. Some little jolt goes through her, a primal sort of electric current that makes her fingers tighten on the tray. He does look a monster, something close to human but not quite. Nadine swallows thickly, throat tight, fear following that little jolt of something. She takes a hesitant step deeper into the cell, trying to pull her eyes away from the dark figure contained here but finding herself unable to....]
[ There we go. He smiles, running his tongue over his teeth. He hasn't been able to get any of the others to look at him so intently, but none of them have said their names within earshot. Whoever she was talking to outside did her no favors.
Or maybe they did her all the favor in the world. Who knows.
He stares at her, his eyes gleaming like hot coals. ] The mind can starve as much as the body can, Nadine. Even an animal would go mad in a cage like this.
[ He's not actually worried about that, he's as mad as he'll ever be, but it's a good conversation starter. A good excuse for some name repetition. ]
[Which, in itself, is already breaking the rule. She should just leave the tray, slide it over, and get out. It's the smart, safe thing to do. There's nothing Nadine has to say to him, nothing she wants to hear, no reason for her to stay.
Her morbid curiosity aside. But it's the same sort of dark fascination that makes one wonder what happens to a body under the dirt, it's not something she really wants to know. She's better off not knowing.
And yet she doesn't leave the tray and go. He's caught her with his eyes, those piecing, inhuman eyes.]
[ He leans back, trying to look at unthreatening and casual as he possibly can while being...everything that he is. He holds one clawed hand out to accept the tray of food, if she'll get close enough to hand it to him instead of leaving it on the ground. ]
You know why they don't want you talking to me, right? It's not for your good, it's for theirs. [ Because he has more to offer than the mundane life she's living here. ]
[He's big. Bigger than she'd imagined. Even made small like this, contained and bound and unable to stand at full height he's strikingly big. There's something of the wolf about him, something wild and dangerous that speaks directly to Nadine's soul.
Of course it's dangerous to talk to him. She may be a simple schoolmarm born in the back of beyond but she's no idiot. She knows what this is that's before her, negotiating with her, tempting her attention. She's only here to do her part, to share in the terrible and awesome burden of holding him captive. It's just a duty. One to be done and then pushed down and away into the depths of her mind, something to resurface in nightmares or the long cold hours of winter when the wind howls and her little house rattles and shakes.]
Just...here.
[She takes a few halting steps forward and shoves the tray at him, hands trembling and teeth clenched tightly together.]
[ He takes the tray, one of his slender fingers stroking the back of her hand for the briefest moment. He's warm and his skin is soft as silk, not the rough and callused hand a human of his age would have.
He takes a piece of meat (mostly scraps that would otherwise have been discarded) and slips it in between the grate in his muzzle. ]
You'll come back, Nadine. You don't have to. But you will. [ Everyone does their part and feeds him once or twice and then tries to forget about him. With the amount of people here, no one has to see him more than once every few years. No one, as far as he knows, has ever volunteered for the duty, they just do it when they're told.
But for Nadine, he wants to plant the idea there. This is the furthest he's gotten with any of them. ]
[She has to look away when he eats. Feeds, her mind supplies unbidden. Nadine tears her eyes away and turns her head, stepping back quickly like a skittish young horse. The sound of it is bad enough, the sickening animal sound of tearing meat that seems so ominous and unpleasant in this cell.
And he'd touched her. What was wrong with her? Why had she let herself get that close? His fingers had been so humanlike, warm and smooth and frighteningly pleasant...
A shudder goes through her and her hands grasp at her simple cotton skirts, twisting the fabric between them. She's a fool, a stupid fool, why would she ever come back here without needing to? She's done her duty, she's finished. Whatever odd curiosity she may harbor isn't that strong.
It isn't.]
You're a monster, why would I ever come back just because?
Because I was a man before I was a monster. [ He reaches down to adjust the crotch of his worn jeans. ] Still am, where it counts.
[ He expects the gesture to be taken with disgust, as a demon's lewd mockery. But he has to wonder: has anyone here bothered to say that one shouldn't, of course, ever mate with the Dark Man, or have they not even thought of it as a possibility? He was a monster, and probably has needs humans can't comprehend if he even has needs at all.
Unless he was human once. ]
And I've lived a long life with stories to tell. [ And the hope that eventually someone would be curious enough to hear them that he could get in their heads. ] I've been places where they called any woman who got too smart or too ambitious a monster, too. When I was a young man the Kings and Lords of my country would've called me monster for being poor and disobedient and angry. Funny how it goes.
[Why had she even bothered? There's nothing here for any good hearted and god fearing person. Just a foul, twisted thing with a perverse humor. Nadine's lip curls at him, eyes sliding away from him again.]
And now you're called a monster because you are one. I don't know what you expect to get from me, but I'm a respectable woman.
[She's lived her life the right way. She prays, she observes every feast and holy day, she works hard, she's kept herself away from men and gambling and other vices. Nadine is, for the most part, a Good Girl. She can't afford not to be, she has no family of her own, no one to support her.
But Good Girls, she reminds herself, don't linger with demons, even to argue with them. Certainly not when they taunt and tempt like this one's trying. The little bit of excitement it provides - because she can't deny, there's something darkly exciting about being in such proximity to this dark creature - isn't worth the risk. She knows the stories. The danger. They say he's harmless, but they also say don't speak to him, don't stay with him long. How harmless can he really be?]
Just because I think you deserve decent treatment, don't think I have some sort of softness for you. Or any interest in what you have to say - everyone has stories.
A respectable woman who'll do what she's told. [ He chuckles to himself, popping another piece of meat into his mouth. The sound of ripping flesh echoes through the dungeon as his sharp teeth tears through it. ]
I'm a monster, yes, but I'm free. Because I'm free, perhaps. No matter how long you chain me up I don't belong to anybody.
[ He hums, inspecting the next piece of meat before eating it as well. ] But I guess you can't be both respectable and free. Go along, good girl. I'll see you later, my dear Nadine.
[ And he doesn't have any doubts about it, either. He gives a coy little wave with one hand, and fully expects to see her again in a few weeks at most. ]
[A protest rises but Nadine bites it back. It's not worth it, and she's dawdled and been drawn into this madness long enough. With a soft snort under her breath, she turns and leaves, letting the cell door slam behind her.
But the encounter doesn't fade. It stays with her on the walk home, through the evening, as she undresses for the evening. The burning of his eyes, the timbre of his voice. The great size of him. The scene replays itself as she lies in bed, covers pulled up to her chin. His fingers on her hand. Her name on his lips.
The memory stays. It refuses to be buried. It pops up, unbidden, as she buttons her modest gray shirt and tucks it into her black cotton skirts in the morning. It distracts her in the afternoon as the children are doing their arithmetic, the sound of chalk on slates fading beneath the sound of shredding meat between great, sharp teeth.
It's madness. And whatever he'd said to her had surely been a lie, things like that lie. But that seed of curiosity, that dark, strange interest...it's taken root. She finds her eyes straying to the place where he's kept as she goes about her day. Sometimes a feeling came over her when she did, something that defied description but hit her deep in her core. Not quite discomfort, not quite fear...
Opportunity presents itself in two weeks. Her neighbor, next in rotation, too ill and weak to manage the task. Nadine volunteers. It's only a kindness to the old couple down the road, she tells herself. The right thing to do, taking up the terrible burden to spare it falling to another. Whatever way she justifies it, here she is again, standing before the dim cell with a tray in her hands. Modestly dressed in her high necked button down blouse and ankle length skirts, hair pinned back in a severe knot, she nods for the door to be opened and steps inside once more.]
[ Flagg's gotten no less imposing in the two weeks since she last saw him. He's still sitting there, big and dark and with eyes as red as fresh blood. But god, how he wishes he could lay down, or stand up. Maybe this one could be convinced to loosen his chains eventually. Not to free him, just to give him room to stretch and relieve his cramped muscles. ]
I was led to believe you'd never come back.
[ The sarcasm is almost palatable. She held out for two weeks, which is impressive for someone with as much exposure to him as she had. Even when he's not at full power, there's a good reason why you're not supposed to touch him or engage in conversation with him or - god forbid - tell him your name. Not that the latter was her fault, it was someone else's fuck-up, but here they were.
And she still held out. That's nice, he thinks as he licks his lips. He likes them strong-willed. ]
[There's no protest that she shouldn't speak to him this time. Her hands still shake, but not as much as the first time. She's been here before, she didn't burst into flames or suffer hauntings in the night. Not of the preternatural sort, at least.
And for someone supposedly desperate for company, he's not making much effort to be polite. Nadine stays by the door again, lips a thin line.]
Do you want to eat, or do you want to be condescending?
[ He has some other comments to make about that, but he'll save it for when she's closer. Right now she could just throw the tray at him and leave, like some of the others have done.
None of them spoke a word to him. Some of them came in with their ears covered so they couldn't hear him. Most of them wouldn't even make eye contact. Their fear meant he still had power and that was satisfying, but he was somewhat lonely, too. Not lonely in the way a human might get, but he was very bored. He's not a lone wolf, he needs company and stimulation. ]
I want to eat. It's about the only comfort I'm permitted here. [ He yanks at his chains, a display of the seated, hunched over position they've forced him into. He has very little room to move about; he can just barely reach his mouth with his hands. ]
You can't really be surprised at how you're being treated.
[It's cruel, Nadine can admit that. But it isn't as though she has any say in it, and she understands why. This isn't some chicken thief or highwayman. It's all as much for caution's sake as punishment's.
And, she supposes, it could still be worse. There were always ways to make it worse, to be crueler. It's a small mercy, but it's a mercy. And they feed him.
She takes a few steps closer, less hesitantly, looking at him as she comes.]
If I were in their place, I'd devour them whole, Nadine. You know that.
[ He's careful to say them and not you, like she's exempt. She's special. People love to be special.
He licks his sharp teeth slowly, his grin wild and ravenous. He's reminded of a fable he heard once in another world: my, what sharp teeth you have! The better to eat you with, my dear. She looks so delicate and perfect, like a porcelain doll. Oh, how he'd love to put a bite mark onto her and show it off around town before he killed them and carried his new bride off to who-knows-where. ]
Come closer. I won't hurt you. They'd just make it worse for me if I did. [ He holds one hand out to accept the food. ]
[A shudder goes through her at that wolfish, monster's grin.]
I do.
[And so she only has so much sympathy for him - but there is some. He's a living thing and Nadine's a kind hearted soul. But she does know what he's capable of, exactly (more or less) why such drastic precautions are put in place.
She'd been close to him before, and nothing too great and terrible had transpired. He'd touched her, but not in any threatening way. Of course it could be argued any touch from him is a threat.]
You might not hurt me, but you want something. And I have a hard time believing it's the milk of human kindness.
[Still, she finds herself approaching. That sick, mad curiosity unfurls itself again, compelling her to come close enough to give him the tray. The danger radiates off of him like a great caged beast but...really, what could he do?]
Don't we all want something, or did humans stop having desires in the time since I've been one?
[ He tilts his head to one side, taking the tray and setting it down beside him. Food could wait, she's already seen him tear into strips of meat once. Might be a bit of a mood-killer, anyway.
He holds out his hand again. ]
I may not desire the milk of human kindness but it has been a long time since I've had human anything. And I know it's my own fault but I crave it just the same, on rare occasions.
[ His claws are sharp and his hands would dwarf Nadine's in size, but maybe it's not too much to ask, that she hold his hand for a little while. Or at least touch him without recoiling in horror. ]
[How far removed from humanity is he? Nadine's not sure if it matters, but she wants to know. She looks at that hand, that tremendous clawed hand, thinking of things that lurk in the dark. There is nothing safe about it, nothing reassuring. It's the hand of a creature, not a man.
But despite her suspicions and fear, there is something of a man to him. It's a difficult choice to weigh, whether to offer this kindness and take the risk or not. He could cut her, even chained, if she put her hand in his. He'd already had the chance, though, the last time she fed him. One hand lifts, but curls in on itself cautiously, undecided. She thinks of the old stories, the ones they tell children and claim are true but may or may not be. Tales of beasts who's terror was stopped by a simple kind act...and tales of things that gobble up girls if given the chance.]
[ And he doesn't mourn it, but he tries to sound so mournful. Like he really does miss it, whatever part of him is still more human than monster.
He doesn't even know if such a part of him exists anymore, but the possibility of it is such a tantalizing thing. Perhaps this beast can be tamed and the world will be free of its monstrous scourge forever and ever. ]
[It's probably stupid. Stupid and reckless and without point, that she's even entertaining the idea is madness...
But what purpose does this serve? Chaining him, leaving him to rot more or less, with only the barest minimum. What could possibly come of it? The gears continue to turn in Nadine's mind, her face a mask of confliction. It can't be argued that their collective treatment of this man they call The Dark Man is cruel. Whether or not it's deserved...that's something else, and too large and complicated a moral tangle for her to try and work through. But there are smaller arguments to make. Is mercy truly mercy if it's conditional, or contingent on the 'deserving'?
She has been taught that mercy is a virtue. To be a good person, one should demonstrate mercy and forgiveness. Those are both easier said than done, and she knows as well as anyone that few actually live by the morals they preach, but...why shouldn't they? Was it really so difficult to be kind?
Of course there's a risk. It could be that a kind heart and faith in mercy are all that he's playing to, but if there was no risk and no doubt, it wouldn't mean anything. Anyone can be kind when it's easy and costs nothing.
She, Nadine decides, is better than that. If she ends up dead on the floor of this miserable cell, so be it, at least she'll know she tried to do the right thing.]
Alright.
[She says it as much for herself as for him. Taking a deep breath, muscles tense and breath quick as though ready for flight, she puts one small, pale hand in his.]
[ He holds her hand in his. It's always a surprise, how...small humans really were. So fragile, so easy to tear limb from limb. Even in his current state, he could take this one and leave nothing but a bloody stain on the floor.
He won't, but he'd be lying if he denied being delighted by the fact that he could.
Instead, he just holds her as gently as he can, his skin soft as silk and warm, too. Some would expect something like him to be rough and callused, perhaps even cold. If that was what Nadine expected, she would be in for a surprise. ]
Thank you. [ He squeezes her hand just to let her know that it's alright, that he's looking out for her right now. What human could protect her from him? But he could certainly protect her from any human. ]
There's no sudden pain, no shift in the man bound before her, just his surprisingly normal hand around hers. Aside from it's size, inhuman and unnerving, it feels much like any other hand. There's no hint of claw against her skin, only his palm and broad fingers.]
You're welcome.
[It's eerie, how mundane and normal this really is. Even his grip is startlingly gentle. And so very warm and smooth...she hadn't expected the smoothness. It's not as though she's in the habit of holding men's hands - honestly can't remember the last time she had - but she's always had the impression that their hands were coarse and roughened.]
[ Not a very monstrous name for a monster. It's not his original name, but all of his chosen names are names that any man could have. It frightens people more, he finds, when he's a lot like they are.
And for a rare few, it allures them, too.
He bends down and looks her in the eyes, his own eyes gleaming with light but there's something human behind them, too. ]
Not too many people would shake my hand. [ He lingers for another moment and then lets go. ] But it didn't hurt you none, did it?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
monsterfucking ahoy;
Trapping him and keeping him in this dungeon like an animal, however, could last indefinitely. Still, he sits and grins whenever one of his captors enters the room to make sure he eats something and doesn't starve himself to death so he can regenerate elsewhere. He's muzzled so he can't bite, but his sharp, white teeth can be seen through the slots they've so generously given him so he can eat without removing it.
There's a heavy metal collar around his neck chained to the wall, and his arms and legs are shackled as well. He can't stand up straight nor lay down with the length of the chains, and there's no doubt in his mind that being forced to sit hunched over like this is an intentional sort of torture.
He's clearly still taller than almost any human. His red eyes reflect light like the eyes of an animal, and his shaggy black hair hangs down to his back. He growls under his breath when someone enters, staring at the person they've sent down to him this time. ]
It's Nadine, right? I heard you talking outside.
[ His powers may be muted here, but there's still a certain sort of chill that fills the room when he speaks someone's name. Frightening, but in a way that - against your better judgement - makes you want more. A name on his lips is cold as ice and sweet as sugar all at once.
They're not supposed to talk to him. Everyone has been briefed about the dangers of conversing with the Dark Man. But that doesn't mean he can't try. ]
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It isn't up to her, though. And even he needs to eat, to be tended to. Powerful as he is he's still a living creature with a living creature's needs. To withhold them would be cruelty and Nadine doesn't condone cruelty. Even towards something like this.
She hesitates in the doorway, tray of food held in her hands. There are rules. Don't engage, don't listen, don't talk to him. Ignore whatever he may say.
Still...her eyes go to him when he speaks her name. Some little jolt goes through her, a primal sort of electric current that makes her fingers tighten on the tray. He does look a monster, something close to human but not quite. Nadine swallows thickly, throat tight, fear following that little jolt of something. She takes a hesitant step deeper into the cell, trying to pull her eyes away from the dark figure contained here but finding herself unable to....]
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Or maybe they did her all the favor in the world. Who knows.
He stares at her, his eyes gleaming like hot coals. ] The mind can starve as much as the body can, Nadine. Even an animal would go mad in a cage like this.
[ He's not actually worried about that, he's as mad as he'll ever be, but it's a good conversation starter. A good excuse for some name repetition. ]
Talking to myself can only do so much, Nadine.
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[Which, in itself, is already breaking the rule. She should just leave the tray, slide it over, and get out. It's the smart, safe thing to do. There's nothing Nadine has to say to him, nothing she wants to hear, no reason for her to stay.
Her morbid curiosity aside. But it's the same sort of dark fascination that makes one wonder what happens to a body under the dirt, it's not something she really wants to know. She's better off not knowing.
And yet she doesn't leave the tray and go. He's caught her with his eyes, those piecing, inhuman eyes.]
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[ He leans back, trying to look at unthreatening and casual as he possibly can while being...everything that he is. He holds one clawed hand out to accept the tray of food, if she'll get close enough to hand it to him instead of leaving it on the ground. ]
You know why they don't want you talking to me, right? It's not for your good, it's for theirs. [ Because he has more to offer than the mundane life she's living here. ]
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[He's big. Bigger than she'd imagined. Even made small like this, contained and bound and unable to stand at full height he's strikingly big. There's something of the wolf about him, something wild and dangerous that speaks directly to Nadine's soul.
Of course it's dangerous to talk to him. She may be a simple schoolmarm born in the back of beyond but she's no idiot. She knows what this is that's before her, negotiating with her, tempting her attention. She's only here to do her part, to share in the terrible and awesome burden of holding him captive. It's just a duty. One to be done and then pushed down and away into the depths of her mind, something to resurface in nightmares or the long cold hours of winter when the wind howls and her little house rattles and shakes.]
Just...here.
[She takes a few halting steps forward and shoves the tray at him, hands trembling and teeth clenched tightly together.]
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[ He takes the tray, one of his slender fingers stroking the back of her hand for the briefest moment. He's warm and his skin is soft as silk, not the rough and callused hand a human of his age would have.
He takes a piece of meat (mostly scraps that would otherwise have been discarded) and slips it in between the grate in his muzzle. ]
You'll come back, Nadine. You don't have to. But you will. [ Everyone does their part and feeds him once or twice and then tries to forget about him. With the amount of people here, no one has to see him more than once every few years. No one, as far as he knows, has ever volunteered for the duty, they just do it when they're told.
But for Nadine, he wants to plant the idea there. This is the furthest he's gotten with any of them. ]
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[She has to look away when he eats. Feeds, her mind supplies unbidden. Nadine tears her eyes away and turns her head, stepping back quickly like a skittish young horse. The sound of it is bad enough, the sickening animal sound of tearing meat that seems so ominous and unpleasant in this cell.
And he'd touched her. What was wrong with her? Why had she let herself get that close? His fingers had been so humanlike, warm and smooth and frighteningly pleasant...
A shudder goes through her and her hands grasp at her simple cotton skirts, twisting the fabric between them. She's a fool, a stupid fool, why would she ever come back here without needing to? She's done her duty, she's finished. Whatever odd curiosity she may harbor isn't that strong.
It isn't.]
You're a monster, why would I ever come back just because?
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[ He expects the gesture to be taken with disgust, as a demon's lewd mockery. But he has to wonder: has anyone here bothered to say that one shouldn't, of course, ever mate with the Dark Man, or have they not even thought of it as a possibility? He was a monster, and probably has needs humans can't comprehend if he even has needs at all.
Unless he was human once. ]
And I've lived a long life with stories to tell. [ And the hope that eventually someone would be curious enough to hear them that he could get in their heads. ] I've been places where they called any woman who got too smart or too ambitious a monster, too. When I was a young man the Kings and Lords of my country would've called me monster for being poor and disobedient and angry. Funny how it goes.
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And now you're called a monster because you are one. I don't know what you expect to get from me, but I'm a respectable woman.
[She's lived her life the right way. She prays, she observes every feast and holy day, she works hard, she's kept herself away from men and gambling and other vices. Nadine is, for the most part, a Good Girl. She can't afford not to be, she has no family of her own, no one to support her.
But Good Girls, she reminds herself, don't linger with demons, even to argue with them. Certainly not when they taunt and tempt like this one's trying. The little bit of excitement it provides - because she can't deny, there's something darkly exciting about being in such proximity to this dark creature - isn't worth the risk. She knows the stories. The danger. They say he's harmless, but they also say don't speak to him, don't stay with him long. How harmless can he really be?]
Just because I think you deserve decent treatment, don't think I have some sort of softness for you. Or any interest in what you have to say - everyone has stories.
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I'm a monster, yes, but I'm free. Because I'm free, perhaps. No matter how long you chain me up I don't belong to anybody.
[ He hums, inspecting the next piece of meat before eating it as well. ] But I guess you can't be both respectable and free. Go along, good girl. I'll see you later, my dear Nadine.
[ And he doesn't have any doubts about it, either. He gives a coy little wave with one hand, and fully expects to see her again in a few weeks at most. ]
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But the encounter doesn't fade. It stays with her on the walk home, through the evening, as she undresses for the evening. The burning of his eyes, the timbre of his voice. The great size of him. The scene replays itself as she lies in bed, covers pulled up to her chin. His fingers on her hand. Her name on his lips.
The memory stays. It refuses to be buried. It pops up, unbidden, as she buttons her modest gray shirt and tucks it into her black cotton skirts in the morning. It distracts her in the afternoon as the children are doing their arithmetic, the sound of chalk on slates fading beneath the sound of shredding meat between great, sharp teeth.
It's madness. And whatever he'd said to her had surely been a lie, things like that lie. But that seed of curiosity, that dark, strange interest...it's taken root. She finds her eyes straying to the place where he's kept as she goes about her day. Sometimes a feeling came over her when she did, something that defied description but hit her deep in her core. Not quite discomfort, not quite fear...
Opportunity presents itself in two weeks. Her neighbor, next in rotation, too ill and weak to manage the task. Nadine volunteers. It's only a kindness to the old couple down the road, she tells herself. The right thing to do, taking up the terrible burden to spare it falling to another. Whatever way she justifies it, here she is again, standing before the dim cell with a tray in her hands. Modestly dressed in her high necked button down blouse and ankle length skirts, hair pinned back in a severe knot, she nods for the door to be opened and steps inside once more.]
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[ Flagg's gotten no less imposing in the two weeks since she last saw him. He's still sitting there, big and dark and with eyes as red as fresh blood. But god, how he wishes he could lay down, or stand up. Maybe this one could be convinced to loosen his chains eventually. Not to free him, just to give him room to stretch and relieve his cramped muscles. ]
I was led to believe you'd never come back.
[ The sarcasm is almost palatable. She held out for two weeks, which is impressive for someone with as much exposure to him as she had. Even when he's not at full power, there's a good reason why you're not supposed to touch him or engage in conversation with him or - god forbid - tell him your name. Not that the latter was her fault, it was someone else's fuck-up, but here they were.
And she still held out. That's nice, he thinks as he licks his lips. He likes them strong-willed. ]
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[There's no protest that she shouldn't speak to him this time. Her hands still shake, but not as much as the first time. She's been here before, she didn't burst into flames or suffer hauntings in the night. Not of the preternatural sort, at least.
And for someone supposedly desperate for company, he's not making much effort to be polite. Nadine stays by the door again, lips a thin line.]
Do you want to eat, or do you want to be condescending?
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[ He has some other comments to make about that, but he'll save it for when she's closer. Right now she could just throw the tray at him and leave, like some of the others have done.
None of them spoke a word to him. Some of them came in with their ears covered so they couldn't hear him. Most of them wouldn't even make eye contact. Their fear meant he still had power and that was satisfying, but he was somewhat lonely, too. Not lonely in the way a human might get, but he was very bored. He's not a lone wolf, he needs company and stimulation. ]
I want to eat. It's about the only comfort I'm permitted here. [ He yanks at his chains, a display of the seated, hunched over position they've forced him into. He has very little room to move about; he can just barely reach his mouth with his hands. ]
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[It's cruel, Nadine can admit that. But it isn't as though she has any say in it, and she understands why. This isn't some chicken thief or highwayman. It's all as much for caution's sake as punishment's.
And, she supposes, it could still be worse. There were always ways to make it worse, to be crueler. It's a small mercy, but it's a mercy. And they feed him.
She takes a few steps closer, less hesitantly, looking at him as she comes.]
Would you be any kinder, in our place?
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[ He's careful to say them and not you, like she's exempt. She's special. People love to be special.
He licks his sharp teeth slowly, his grin wild and ravenous. He's reminded of a fable he heard once in another world: my, what sharp teeth you have! The better to eat you with, my dear. She looks so delicate and perfect, like a porcelain doll. Oh, how he'd love to put a bite mark onto her and show it off around town before he killed them and carried his new bride off to who-knows-where. ]
Come closer. I won't hurt you. They'd just make it worse for me if I did. [ He holds one hand out to accept the food. ]
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I do.
[And so she only has so much sympathy for him - but there is some. He's a living thing and Nadine's a kind hearted soul. But she does know what he's capable of, exactly (more or less) why such drastic precautions are put in place.
She'd been close to him before, and nothing too great and terrible had transpired. He'd touched her, but not in any threatening way. Of course it could be argued any touch from him is a threat.]
You might not hurt me, but you want something. And I have a hard time believing it's the milk of human kindness.
[Still, she finds herself approaching. That sick, mad curiosity unfurls itself again, compelling her to come close enough to give him the tray. The danger radiates off of him like a great caged beast but...really, what could he do?]
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[ He tilts his head to one side, taking the tray and setting it down beside him. Food could wait, she's already seen him tear into strips of meat once. Might be a bit of a mood-killer, anyway.
He holds out his hand again. ]
I may not desire the milk of human kindness but it has been a long time since I've had human anything. And I know it's my own fault but I crave it just the same, on rare occasions.
[ His claws are sharp and his hands would dwarf Nadine's in size, but maybe it's not too much to ask, that she hold his hand for a little while. Or at least touch him without recoiling in horror. ]
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[How far removed from humanity is he? Nadine's not sure if it matters, but she wants to know. She looks at that hand, that tremendous clawed hand, thinking of things that lurk in the dark. There is nothing safe about it, nothing reassuring. It's the hand of a creature, not a man.
But despite her suspicions and fear, there is something of a man to him. It's a difficult choice to weigh, whether to offer this kindness and take the risk or not. He could cut her, even chained, if she put her hand in his. He'd already had the chance, though, the last time she fed him. One hand lifts, but curls in on itself cautiously, undecided. She thinks of the old stories, the ones they tell children and claim are true but may or may not be. Tales of beasts who's terror was stopped by a simple kind act...and tales of things that gobble up girls if given the chance.]
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[ And he doesn't mourn it, but he tries to sound so mournful. Like he really does miss it, whatever part of him is still more human than monster.
He doesn't even know if such a part of him exists anymore, but the possibility of it is such a tantalizing thing. Perhaps this beast can be tamed and the world will be free of its monstrous scourge forever and ever. ]
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But what purpose does this serve? Chaining him, leaving him to rot more or less, with only the barest minimum. What could possibly come of it? The gears continue to turn in Nadine's mind, her face a mask of confliction. It can't be argued that their collective treatment of this man they call The Dark Man is cruel. Whether or not it's deserved...that's something else, and too large and complicated a moral tangle for her to try and work through. But there are smaller arguments to make. Is mercy truly mercy if it's conditional, or contingent on the 'deserving'?
She has been taught that mercy is a virtue. To be a good person, one should demonstrate mercy and forgiveness. Those are both easier said than done, and she knows as well as anyone that few actually live by the morals they preach, but...why shouldn't they? Was it really so difficult to be kind?
Of course there's a risk. It could be that a kind heart and faith in mercy are all that he's playing to, but if there was no risk and no doubt, it wouldn't mean anything. Anyone can be kind when it's easy and costs nothing.
She, Nadine decides, is better than that. If she ends up dead on the floor of this miserable cell, so be it, at least she'll know she tried to do the right thing.]
Alright.
[She says it as much for herself as for him. Taking a deep breath, muscles tense and breath quick as though ready for flight, she puts one small, pale hand in his.]
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He won't, but he'd be lying if he denied being delighted by the fact that he could.
Instead, he just holds her as gently as he can, his skin soft as silk and warm, too. Some would expect something like him to be rough and callused, perhaps even cold. If that was what Nadine expected, she would be in for a surprise. ]
Thank you. [ He squeezes her hand just to let her know that it's alright, that he's looking out for her right now. What human could protect her from him? But he could certainly protect her from any human. ]
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There's no sudden pain, no shift in the man bound before her, just his surprisingly normal hand around hers. Aside from it's size, inhuman and unnerving, it feels much like any other hand. There's no hint of claw against her skin, only his palm and broad fingers.]
You're welcome.
[It's eerie, how mundane and normal this really is. Even his grip is startlingly gentle. And so very warm and smooth...she hadn't expected the smoothness. It's not as though she's in the habit of holding men's hands - honestly can't remember the last time she had - but she's always had the impression that their hands were coarse and roughened.]
What...what do you want to be called?
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[ Not a very monstrous name for a monster. It's not his original name, but all of his chosen names are names that any man could have. It frightens people more, he finds, when he's a lot like they are.
And for a rare few, it allures them, too.
He bends down and looks her in the eyes, his own eyes gleaming with light but there's something human behind them, too. ]
Not too many people would shake my hand. [ He lingers for another moment and then lets go. ] But it didn't hurt you none, did it?
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