checkin | (HYPNOS) What chance would you have had, anyway?

"Misborn. Malformed." The taunts came as they did on many evenings, echoing as memories did. "They didn't die on mission, you know... they killed themselves because they were so disappointed in you." The whispers spoke of your parents, dead since shortly after your birth; the tormenting had begun then and there'd been no escape from it.

The lumbering forms of other gryphons hovered all around you, their voices full of mockery and disdain. "We'd all be better off if you died, cull... better yet, if you took care of it for us."

You shrink back, leaping upwards and taking to the air only to find you're not gaining altitude. Instead, the image shifts drastically and you're suddenly panting in a panic.

There is nothing visible from the viewer's tablet screen initially, but there is plenty enough to hear to make up for it. There is a horrific sounding snap, followed immediately by a shrill inhuman shriek. The shriek cuts through the blackness of the image, filled with unmistakable pain and fear.

Worse still is the laughter that follows; cruel and amused.

There is the sound of something being dragged in the darkness, heavy and unwieldy; and breathing. There is muffled breathing, as if from a closed off space, fast and panicked. It's your own. You're being dragged through the darkness.

"Remove its cover... I want it to see."

The darkness slides away as the rough material is pulled away, leaving you where you have been left trussed and unable to move. Your breaths come fast and panicked through your nares, your beak tied securely shut and unable to open. There is scarce enough room for you to properly breathe, let alone move, and your bindings cut into the fragile bone and tendons of your wings. You had tried to struggle, but had only succeeded in digging them in deeper, blood caking around the open wounds.

It is not your own injuries that hold you terrified and transfixed, though. It is the sight that greets you upon your sight being returned to you. The tablet broadcasts the images as your own mind tries to sort them out.

There is a gryphon laying before you, bound similarly but with its wings outstretched at its sides. No... its wing. While one remains secured and stretched at the poor creatures' side, the other lay shattered and crumpled on the ground. The gryphon appears to be barely breathing and young... painfully and horrifyingly young. Youl keen, the sound clamped off and caught in your throat as you scrabble uselessly against the stone ground, but it awards you nothing but a sound kick to the side.

"You'll deliver a message to your Father."

The voice sneers down at you and your golden eyes roll up toward it. His face is indistinguishable, save for the grin that plays across his lips. There is movement before you as the gryphon kit begins to struggle, and there are people around it again. You try to reach out with your mind to its own, to offer it at least a swift death, but you can't seem to reach. Without the mind speech, you cannot engage the death spell. You heave against the restraints, but they hold firmly and you can only watch as another faceless figure approaches the fledgling with a large blade in hand.

While you are forced to watch, the kit shrieks and struggles as both of its wings are hefted upright. Broken bone grates and cracks, blood flowing freely from the severed arteries, but they continue hefting the wings until they are held aloft. The human with the sword steps in and looks toward your bound form, and you struggle for breath through your closed beak, sides rising and falling as you begin to hyperventilate in your panic.

"Tell him he has no hope of victory."

And with that, the figure gathers his blade and swings, cleaving the fledgling's wings from its body. The poor creature emits a series of nearly unbroken shrieks, flailing and jerking in its bonds as blood sprays all around. One wing was taken off entirely, but the other lays half removed at the gryphon's side. Its eyes roll in mindless horror and pain, until as if finally granted some reprieve, the poor gryphon falls silent and still...dead.

"Burn it."

You watch in terror as they set flame to the gryphon, the feathers catching all too easily. The scent of burning fur and flesh fills the area.

"Will you pass our message, little one?"

Your pupils contract to mere pinholes as you dart your gaze up to the faceless figure. You are trembling hard enough that your beak would be clacking were it not tied shut and the figure smiles at you again.

"Excellent... Set it free."

You experience a moment of hope within the fear, but it's not long lived.

"But cripple it first. I wish there to be no misunderstandings."

You struggle against the bonds again, eyes darting from the burning gryphon corpse before you to the man approaching with his sword to the faceless figure and back again. You try to hold your wings in against your body, but they overcome you and extend them forcefully. You shriek within your beak, the sound that of pure terror as the sword begins its down stroke.

Silence. Blackness.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Colour me curious: do you hate them for what they did to you and the other? Or are you so warped by your pain and terror that you're incapable of doing more than suffer still?

[Zhaneel is sitting up in her bed, eyes wide and arms wrapped around her knees. The memories are sharp and real, even if ever so different from reality. She'd never been captured by Ma'ar's forces, but she'd seen the results time and time again.

She hadn't expected such as her dreams to broadcast over the tablet, open for all to see, but she was less surprised as horrified. None needed to see her inner horrors and fears... weakness was dangerous and she knew that. She'd always done her best to hide it, even when failing horribly.

Her eyes read over the text, brows drawing together at the unfamiliar identifier of 'Bones' labeling it. She didn't know if anyone going by such a name, but she'd hardly gone out of her way to meet anyone. The latter art stings, because she knows it's true. She was too scared to do much of anything... the gryphons had suffered any numbers of similar losses. She pulls the tablet into her lap and chooses video to respond... she ain't the best with typing.]

I ... I hate what he does to my kind... that we are used as a means to an end in this war. [She leans her head back against the wall, the tablet in her lap. She speaks not as if she's away from it, but still very much in the middle.] Pawns in a much bigger game of chess than we might have ever imagined...

[He remains on text, not about to reveal himself as the man who had snarled at her in the hallway over popcorn or even the one who was responsible of making use of her forgotten tablet. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her too badly.]

But you don't hate the people? Are you incapable of fighting back?

[Well, why would you call quits on a game when it had barely gotten started, Rumlow? There were so many options for where you could go with this and it would be a shame to end things before they'd barely started!

She frowns at the questions, looking away from the camera. The memory of Ma'ar's soldiers was sharp and painful... men that not only killed, but tortured their victims for pleasure. ~~Sound familiar, Rumlow?~~ She looks back at the camera.]

I do... I do hate them... They could have simply killed, but they enjoyed it... they were given any number of chances to defect, but they chose to continue fighting for Ma'ar because they enjoyed it. [The anger was real and was a startling (but welcome) shift from the fear. She doesn't address not fighting back... she never had and the fact that this stranger was bringing it up didn't help any guilt she was feeling. If she'd fought, it might have made a difference...]

So you hate them, but you didn't do anything about it? Maybe there was something more than enjoying killing that caused them to remain exactly where they were. Maybe they believed they were doing something worthwhile.

[She frowns, looking away. She'd fought for her life, but had she really? When she'd taken out the three magic warped makaar (think really evil and fugly gryphons), could se honestly say that she was trying to take them out? Or had she simply been trying to kill herself. Her brows furrow and she realizes that whoever this is... they're right; she'd never fought back. She'd done her scouting missions as assigned, and quietly she was angry over the treatment her kind received... angry about the deaths that could have been avoided... but had she ever said anything? Or had she stayed quiet and kept her head low for fear of attracting the wrong attention?]

I did what I could... [Lies. stupid bird, you could have done so very much more; the thought path is destructive.

Her golden gaze flashes back to the camera at the latter text, widening as she takes in the meaning. But, though her mouth opens to protest, she had a jarring moment of contemplation. Maybe... She shakes her head, the thought making her sick.]

They warped the magic of the land... they used it to create creatures... abomina- [Its a sickening lurch as she realizes what she was about to say. They'd created abominations with their magic. Hadn't she been called the very same, her own race created by another form of the same magic?]

No. [She shakes her head, but the denial is weak... Had her Father been lying to the gryphons all the while... the very same man that held the key to their reproduction and refused to share the knowledge. Had she really ever taken the time to consider that maybe, just maybe, Ma'ar hadn't been in the wrong? Or had she simply accepted because she'd been conditioned to.]

Something in watching you makes it clear that you're both lying to me and to yourself. That's not very healthy, you realize. Admit your weakness and build a wall around it but never forget its there. And stop lying unless it's for a very specific purpose.

[There had certainly been a mistake made when replying with video, but she didn't type well and she had never used the audio function. She couldn't hide her emotions or the thoughts that crossed her face, and it was being taken advantage of. However, Rumlow wasn't telling her anything she didn't know.

She was lying to the person on the other end of this conversation... because she didn't want to believe that everything she'd been raised to believe was a lie.]

That everything... Everything could have been different... [She physically deflates, sagging against her wall. But even as the anonymous messenger slaps her down, they offer advice to be stronger... to push away her weakness.]

But how? It's... It's all I've ever known... [She sounds lost.]

Everything can be different. Consider this place a fresh start, static if you will, to better yourself. Maybe next time you'll have the strength to fight back next time. Find someone to train you to straighten your spine.

(HYPNOS) What chance would you have had, anyway?

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[Video/Private] Crisis!! Look at you trying to create a Hydra sympathizer out of her! 8D

[Text/Private] Far worse than that.

[Video/Private] So beautiful! ;3;

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