Out of the Darkness [Damen]

[nozomi]

The sun shone down on the recreational area, random prisoners milling about their day to day business. That didn't mean much while in prison, day to day activities mainly consisting of working out, idle gossip about nothing, and whether or not that kid really bit off the other kids ear. Even with the gray stone piled high around the chatting masses and garish red jumpsuits, the day could, by some, be considered beautiful with the clear skies and colorful dragons swooping through it. Could be easy to forget the fact that those dragons shot fire and would claw a prisoner if they could. Only a few shadows remained, taken by prisoners straight out of detox or the especially shy.

On the first day allowed outside with over two feet of slack leather cording on his wrist, his shackles, those shadows housed the slight pale shape of Machi; he sat on the ground with bent knees and slightly parted legs, long arms draped on upturned knees, fingers half curled and relaxed.

L'vey kept bringing his case up to the Warden, ever since the greenrider arrived at the prison with that donor clutch. Machi and his shuffling act, the keeping quiet. Before L'vey, Warden ordered Machi to constant solitary confinement in those small square blocks of nothingness and dark. On the warden's orders, Machi was kept wrapped in a strait jacket contraption with less than a foot length between his feet. They cut his nails every few days. There had been threats of filing his teeth, something Machi avoided by keeping his lips pressed tight as if to make the guards forget he had teeth.

Since the greenrider, Machi found himself with no jacket, slightly more food, sunlight.

Hands that were almost free.

For that, he wouldn't kill L'vey when he broke out of the prison. As for the Warden--

Machi stood, brushing the grime from his jumpsuit. The guards never forgot to keep his nails trimmed short and despite their best efforts, he somehow managed to accumulate thin lines of dirt underneath. Warden did not let him outside, yet the filth clung. Machi could almost hear his father's disgust.

He left the cooler shadows to the former addicts (current addicts, can't recover from it, not really) and walked out into the sunlight. He wouldn't hurt anyone - all of L'vey's begging would be for naught if Machi misbehaved.

Still - the young man silently scanned the grounds.

He wouldn't hurt anyone.

[Filch]

Daman flipped his hair back in an absurdly flaming move, hands on his hips as he frowned, scorning the terrible jumpsuits that they were forced to wear. It was a constricting piece of clothing; not so much physically as mentally. It made him feel like part of the mass; not an individual. He did not like being part of the mass, unless he was trying to blend in.

Despite the fact he felt less like an individual, it was not particularly hard to spot him. The cocky, overconfident stride, the tilted up chin, the overall air of superiority just oozing from the man. Of course, it might be the shoulder length hair and the large, innocent eyes that made him look like he belonged somewhere else that made him stick out. Nah, never that.

However, it was mostly because he wasn't trying to sneak in to the shade like others; he was just standing in the sun, leaning against the wall and being completely bored. No one looked interesting to bother, and that annoyed him. It annoyed him so much he had to actually look around for something entertaining, which was terrible. Scowling, he crossed his arms as he walked through the rec area, not at all happy.

Why was there no one INTERESTING? No one different? No one he could make snide comments at that the wouldn't understand? It was depressing, really, the lack of originality that existed in prisons. He would need to bring that up with the Warden; yes. They needed an outlet for creativity! Like finger-painting, or organizing flowers in to tasteful arrangements, or, for the more intellectual of the group, crafts, complete with stick figures of someone they admired!

Oh yes. That was perfect! Seeming to be in a slightly better mood, he moved from his place of standing, flipping his hair once more before he passed what was certainly an oddity. Maybe it was the gaunt, bizarre look, or the fact he just radiated insanity. Or, you know, the fact his hands were in makeshift shackles. "Why, dear sir, praytell why you're wearing what appears to be something that a pervert would possess?" Way to start a conversation.

[nozomi]

'So I can strangle you.'

'Because I am a pervert.'

Forgoing words entirely and killing him.

No. All of those meant ending right back up in solitary with filed teeth and no more chances from the Warden, no matter how many times L'vey spoke to him. The weyrlingmaster wouldn't visit him anymore. Food in solitary bordered on unsanitary. Machi loathed the thought of going back.

Machi stared at his hands for a long moment before he flexed his fingers, tested the length of leather with knotted fists an a short jerk or two. Satisfied that yes, he could strangle the life out of Daman with it if desired, the prisoner looked up to the young man before him. He took his sweet time, deadened gaze traveling from the young mans feet to his face; the gaze lingered no where, red jumpsuit covering anything remotely worth looking at and, anyway, the boy spoke with a sort of flippant attitude that took any sort of attraction from him.

Pretties weren't any good unless they came broken.

When finally he'd looked all up Daman and his somewhat baggy jumpsuit, Machi caught, and kept, those eyes. Daman wanted to talk, ask him about being a pervert, he'd get the full on dark eyes complete with the complete lack of expression on Machi's face.

"Interested." said Machi, in a question that did not sound much like a question. His voice pitched to the near nasal, deep if not for the catch towards the back of his throat. He twisted the leather length once more around his fists, snapped it once, twice, and the entire time did not look away from Daman. "I could show you."

[Filch]

Daman glanced around uncomfortably, seeming to notice he was being looked at- not in the 'hey, look at me, I'm awesome!' way, but the 'Hm, you look like you would be extremely easy to maim/dispatch/murder'. Okay, maybe he was a bit shook up after the whole rape incident but he could still beat down anyone! Yeah, he was fine. None of the bastards posed a threat to him. However, he appeared to lose some of the gusto at the less than pleasant gaze, taking the slightest step back before he busied himself with staring at a piece of his hair before snapping his eyes back to the man, straightening himself slightly, though it made his less than impressive size and stature even more pronounced.

Now, while Daman acted like quite the pervert, he was not interested in taking up offers from prisoners, which became clear at the slightly nervous expression that was quickly forced away and replaced by a smirk, because hiding your insecurities with more perversion and asshole-like behavior always worked, especially in prison. I never claimed Daman was smart, okay?

"I realize people have a fetish for doing stuff in public, but really, things like that should be kept to yourself." Another small step back, though this was carefully disguised as just shifting his weight. Something about the guy's face made him really uncomfortable, but he wouldn't DARE let anyone see that. Of course not; he would keep making stupid jokes until the end of time. "Not interested. Sorry. Though, I'm sure you could find somewhere around here willing to bend over."

[nozomi]

Machi's eyes followed the flicker of expression on Daman's pretty face, how what a quick glance and a shoulder straightening could give away. Daman didn't tilt up his chin, didn't put his hands on his hips like a cocky daredevil. No - he moved back and then moved from one foot to the other. Maybe only a single step away and the uncomfortable shift of balance but it was enough to fuel the cold little fire in Machi's soul. The boy bled the energy of prey though the idea of bedding the other man hit Machi as distasteful. A willful little thing, though lovely to look at, was never the less unattractive.

He stepped closer, a long confident stride to place him less than a foot from Daman. Machi stared hard at Daman's face, expression one of impassive calm, lips soft in stark contrast to hard eyes. Machi snapped the leather length again, sharper than before, harder.

"Fear. You stink of it," Machi held up his makeshift shackles level to Daman's throat and the corners of his mouth turned up, not by much, just the briefest twitch. His last words were said in a soft hissing whisper, smooth as silk: "Pretty boy."

Maybe Daman would squirm. Or run. He hoped he ran.

[Filch]

Oh pissing blimey that guy was getting close. Very close- way too close, in fact. So close that he wanted to squeak and run in the other direction. However, he most certainly could not. After all, if he did that, they would all think in their stupid, stupid brains that he was a pushover. He was, in fact, not. Horrifying, right? Either way, the man shook his head and crossed his arms. His nails were actually digging in to either of his arms, an effective tactic that stopped his hands from shaking a bit. Stupid body, being mutinous! He wasn't scared. Nope.

It took a bit of effort not to wince quite terribly as the leather was snapped, fear flitting through Daman's eyes once more before the emotion buried itself in the back of his head. He did not feel fear; no, none of these poor excuses for human beings frightened him! That was totally impossible, because he was amazing, and they...well, they were just not.

The man tensed slightly at the next comment, looking away for only a moment before glaring quite viciously. "I cannot believe your assessment, as fear has no smell. Please rethink your terminology and try again." However, the vast majority of his strength drained when the thing was held to his throat, Daman paling quite a bit. A soft, strangled noise that sounded like a squeak escaped for a split second before being cut off, the man shaking slightly at the last comment. Pretty boy? He did not like the sound of that at all!

Still, in a fairly impressive, if utterly stupid, display of courage, he did manage to stop shaking, chin tilting slightly in an attempt to look intimidating. Sadly, it was obvious he was more than a bit frightened. "Ew. Ew. Ew and ew and ew."

[nozomi]

Look at the little thing tremble! He did not run, Machi never had that good of luck, nor did he visible tremble in a way Machi could see with his eyes trained on Daman's face, but the fear, it was there, delicious, and shaking. Machi parted his lips, ran his tongue slowly over the edges of his teeth right for the young man to see. "I can smell fear," Machi tipped his head, slowly, and smiled a slow, toothy smile. "Sorts like me can always see the prey wanting to be broken.

"You want to be shattered. No matter what you say. People like you always do, it's the only reason you approach someone like me." Oh, the two hands lowered, no more leather to Daman's throat. Guards were starting to notice - Machi heard their slow, cautious approach, the shuffle of their boots. Until he actually touched Daman, or the boy complained, they wouldn't get close enough to grab him. Machi took a step closer anyway, just enough to feel the boys body heat; if they were children, it could be considered the 'i'm not touching you!' game, he was so near to poor, darling, soft little Daman.

Machi resisted the urge to bite him. He breathed in deep, let the boy hear just in case Daman scurried back like the frightened rabbit Machi thought him to be.

"... I'll find you when you're broken, pretty. When the fight has been beaten from you. It will, and I will, and you'll thank me for it." Quiet, so very quiet, so the guards couldn't hear him. "Fight while you can and see how far it gets you. I suggest you stop flirting with me now before one of my pets get jealous and breaks you themselves, just to please me."

He stepped away from Daman then, even if the other man had fluttered away or back. The smile gone, the serial killed stared hard at the young man, and said a single, hard-voiced word: "Run."