RP posts we want to keep

[Penny]

From TS, here, wherever.

SPOILER: Click to show

((Does Mister Z dream of clockwork sheep? We don't know... but here's what Johanna is dreaming about... YOU!))

Once again, the flurry of pain oozed from her. She now felt... warm. REALLY warm, in fact, and something was over her... what was that? She was still tied down, and her mouth was still sealed...

The world was dark, as well as warm. The scents of vegetables and other foods gently sifted through the air, and outside she heard talking... though it was muffled and difficult to hear.

She strained her ears to listen in on the conversation, but it was no use. She really couldn't hear it...

And the fact that she was still tied down annoyed her. She at least wanted to see what was going on...

One of the muffled voices came closer. It was Lewis, who was saying something about the brain dead students and how they didn't deserve this wonderful time. However the closer the came the more he muttered and it couldn't be made out exactly what he was saying.

Suddenly Johanna's world shifted, as if the metal table she was on was being lifted up and carried. It was still dark and warm... perhaps there was some sort of cover over her?

Lewis?...

The blonde kept trying to look around. Of course, it was futile, but who said she couldn't at least continue to try? She felt a little more sick as the thing was lifted. It was... odd...

The world, which for Johanna was a warm darkness, shifted and swayed, as if she was being carried. Strangely she couldn't bring herself to throw up, even as the nausea mounted something seemed to keep her from being able to do so. Something besides her mouth being sealed shut.

"Alright you ungrateful wretched things." Lewis snarled, and Johanna felt a lurch as she was spun about. "And... you too Miss Alice." He added hastily.

There was a little childish 'yay!' with hands clapping. Light flooded Johanna's little 'world' as the covering was torn free, and the dim light blinded her for just a moment. Cold air rippled across her body along with the light.

Slowly the whiteness faded, revealing herself to be naked, laying on a serving tray, which in turn had been set in the center of the table. Surrounding her on all sides were the staff and students of the school. Alice was sitting at the head of the table, and was still clapping happily at the display Lewis had put on.

Further down the table, Mister Z and Miss Louise sat across from each other. Tommy, Peter, Sihka, Leanora, Gabriel, they all were sitting at their places, empty plates before them.

She shut here eyes for a few moments, and then finally opened them. The sound was nearly deafening still, but the light was more bearable now...

...And then she looked down at herself. Her eyes widened, and if her mouth wasn't sealed, she'd have gasped. Lying on a table, in front of so many of her friends?

She began struggling against her bonds. She wanted out of this... out of this room, away from the others... this was too embarrassing and terrifying for words.

Lewis picked up a wooden spoon and smacked Johanna on the forehead. "No squirming. You're getting gravy all over the table cloth."

She winced and gave Lewis a dark look.

From near the back of the table, voices began rising up.

"I want the biggest piece."

What? Who said that?

"Yeah, preferably some thigh, huh Petes?"

Okay, that was Leanora and that was Peter, apparently... wait, holy shit. Are they planning what I THINK they're planning?...

"Well, I already know she's delicious." It was Sihka's voice, and she looked somewhat contemplatively smug. Beside her Gabriel looked a little ill.

"Sir Marchatter," Mister Z said, handing a truly massive carving knife across Johanna's body to the Universal Teacher. "If you would so kindly do the honors."

Lewis snatched up the knife blade. "Of course I would." Lewis snapped. "You think I could let any of you plebeians perform?" He turned his gaze to Johanna. "Now I want you to hold still... not that you have any choice... because this will hurt oh so much."

The large knife descended slowly, first lightly touching, and then slowly sawing into Johanna's tender flesh.

She cast a gaze over at the others. They were there, too? Good lord... she shut her eyes at Lewis's words, bracing herself for the pain to come. At first, it wasn't hurting too bad... but then it seemed to nearly burn as it went deeper. She broke out into a sweat.

"Ick..." said another voice, whom she now presumed was Tommy, "That doesn't look so good. Oh well. Can I have an arm?"

You most certainly can NOT! Nobody is getting ANY part of my body... I don't know what's going on, but I'm getting myself out of it now... somehow...

"You'll get what I'm cutting, and you'll like it!" Lewis snapped. A wash of coldness came as he paused, jabbing Johanna with a two pronged carving fork and starting to carve off another section. "Punk ass. Did you hear that Miss Anderson? He said you don't look so good. Then he asks for the whole arm. How greedy." He paused in his carving to give her a little pat on the head before he started to make another slice.

"She looks fine to me." Who's voice was that? It was female... "What about you Gabriel?"

"I..." The Prince cut himself off. "She looks fine. Perhaps just vegetables for me. I'm not sure I want any meat."

She re-opened her eyes to watch. This was... looking rather scary now. But the cutting was getting more and more bearable, to where she finally didn't even shiver when Lewis cut into flesh.

"Fine?" Asked Peter, near the other side of the table. "Just fine?"

"Well... she does look tempting." Gabriel admitted. Which may not have been the right answer to Peter's statement.

"You sure you don't want a taste?" Sihka asked. "You know Johanna is simply delicious."

"Oh, you've prepared her so well Lewis!" Alice clapped happily.

"Of course I did." Lewis sniffed. "Certainly wasn't anyone else preparing the child." He glared very pointedly at Mister Z, who ignored him.

Somehow, while this was all happening however, little Runthiggins had managed to climb up on the table, and now while Lewis was serving Alice, the baby mosfalump started inspecting Johanna's ear with it's questing trunk.

Peter looked flustered, but Leanora put her hand on his shoulder and he calmed down.

However, the inspecting of her ear... made shivers run up and down her spine. Damn Brain now? Well, all that was truly left up there was her eyes...

Runt was tickling Johanna's ear, looking to get at those yummy brains inside, when Mister Z glanced over and noticed.

"Really now Mr. McGuire, you shouldn't let your ward onto the table like that. I'm not sure she's sanitary."

"Higgins is perfectly sanitary!" Pippin squawked, puffing his already roundish face up further. "Why our little Higgins could be placed in a sanitarium and nobody would notice, that's how sanitary she is!"

"I don't doubt that." Mister Z yielded. Of course by this point Lewis had seen what Runt was doing, and only because Jack lashed out with a black oily tentacle and caught the little mosfalump was it not impaled by the carving knife Lewis threw.

The knife struck less than an inch from Johanna's head and she could hear the metal vibrating as it stood there. Johanna winced her head away from the blade, listening to the ringing it made near her ear. Jack McGuire however had saved his little Runt. "If I see that thing on the table again." Lewis snarled, "I'll feed it to you."

"You wouldn't dare." Mr. McGuire snorted.

Lewis strode down the table and grabbed his knife away savagely. He glared at Johanna, and then the rest of the crowd. "Are we ready for seconds?" He asked, intent on making this cutting from her all the more violent.

Johanna felt something moving around inside her, as if something was rooting about in her chest cavity. "Who wants stuffing?" Lewis asked, as if he wanted to stuff the wooden spoon itself down someone's throat, sideways.

The ringing resounded as the one thing she could really hear or feel for a while... but then came a sickening scraping feeling. She re-opened her eyes and looked down at Lewis maneuvering of the spoon throughout her. That set her over the edge. She tried kicking this time, punching... something. Just to get him OFF her...

As Johanna started to violently struggle, Lewis leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Now what's your problem? It's not like I've broken your neck or anything, you're still squirming after all. You are not going to ruin this Feast. Look, everyone else is enjoying it!"

Well, Tommy was looking his usual dour self smoking at the table. And Gabriel looked like he was being tortured as he tried not to look at Johanna or anyone else's plate. But the rest seemed to be enjoying themselves quite inhumanely.

"I'll have seconds!" Peter said, holding out his plate for Lewis to refill.

"Mm." Miss Louise murmured. "The growing boy has an appetite."

"You haven't had any thing else, have you?" Mister Z asked. "You should try to balance yourself, try some of the vegetables." Peter gave the Clockwork Creations teacher a sour look.

She shut her eyes again, and calmed down a bit. A few tears escaped. She just wanted out...

Leanora, beside Peter, nudged him with her elbow.

"But Petes likes his meat, don't you know?" She giggled at her little joke. "What about you Gabriel?" Miss Louise asked. "Won't you have just a little taste?"

"Um." Gabriel shifted uncomfortable, clearly hungry for Johanna's delicious flesh.

"He's going vegan." Sihka explained.

"Oh." Lewis said, looking at Gabriel. "Well you suck. And you're stupid too."

Lewis turned back to Johanna. "Now, let's see... what's this? The scar Mister Doobs gave you? Well don't mind me, I'll just be cutting a little deeper than he did..." And the carving knife plunged into her once more.

At the next plunge, her eyes squeezed and she tried screaming. It came out muffled, but still heard. More tears came from her eyes. Screw not being useful... that hurt.

"You damn right better be vegan..." Peter growled, casting Gabriel a dark look.

"Peter, stop being a glutton." Mister Z chided. "We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves here, a wonderful family dinner. Isn't that right Alice?"

"Mmrph?" Alice had her mouth full.

The meal continued through a full twelve courses. Johanna felt every bite, every fork, every knife, every trunk violating her ear, until she was looking at her picked over skeleton, the nausea getting to the point where she started to pass out.

Why... why did they just do that?!! She asked herself. Somehow during this time her perspective had changed to where she stood over the body, watching it. It probably happened when they'd taken her eyes. She still felt the pain, and felt even sicker as the time wore on. She shut her eyelids...

SPOILER: Click to show

He turned back to her, giving her a sad, soft little smile.

"She won't," he promised. "This... was the first time that's ever happened..." He paused, sniffed, and turned back away. "Please don't leave. Eat a bit, I'll come down later- ask Harlow or someone to gather up a plate for White, please?"

And with that, he shut the door behind him and headed up the mountains of stairs to the third floor. He gave a soft sigh, stopping at her door, and murmured, "Time to make amends..."

He knocked. After the course of a few seconds, Florence called out, "So you've decided to play nicely? Come inside."

And so he did, the stench pouring over him. He shut the door, and looked around. Candles lit the room, and she sat at her armchair, the tank from earlier beside her. She was winding a cord around it and pushing it behind the chair as she looked up to him.

"Well?"

"I-I'm sorry..." He whispered, looking down in guilty shame. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that..."

"...And?"

"...And I love you..." He looked up to her then, his eyes big and round underneath his furrowed brow.

She gave a soft sigh, and motioned for him to come close, pulling him into a soft hug that lasted a few seconds.

"I didn't mean to be so rough with you, Baby," she apologized, for possibly the first time ever. She looked him over for a moment. "You know, you've grown. You look much stronger. And your hair is growing back." He nodded, his gaze falling to his feet, shy. There was a few seconds pause. "...Sit down."

He went to his knees beside her, as she moved her arms away from her lap his head fell down as if in painful routine. His eyelids sagged, and her long, spindly hands began to play with his hair.

"My sweet prince..." She softly cooed.

The carpet was thick, with long, wispy hairs of mauve popping up so high that when one would put their foot onto it, the hair would still be long enough to reach their ankles. It was, for the most part, well-maintained, though even so, Ryan could pick out, from experience, where exactly there were stains and clumps of medicine, of blood, of wine and other drinks dropped - with frightening accuracy.

"My angel..." Her hand moved from his hair, down to his neck, gently pushing.

Now he looked to one area in particular, close to the bed, where a dark stain compressed several of the hairs into the wooden base of flooring beneath. He remembered that one especially vividly. He had been nine years old, and had been laying down for his usual treatment. He remembered that as the injection registered, and as his body tensed him into a ball, his leg had scraped the frame of the bed. For the three hours that followed, as the effects of the treatment slowly wore off, blood dripped down to the carpet. Drip, drip, drip... a tiny pool of maroon that festered for three whole hours. His grandmother hadn't noticed, by that time she had gone to the other side of the bed and was absorbed in her books. But he noticed. Drip, drop, drip... it was maddening, being able to see something, to hear it, to watch it, to feel it for three hours and yet do nothing about it. It wasn't even the sting of the cut itself that made him so upset, it was the insanity that resulted from a patten being broken and resolved. Drip, drip, drip...

"My darling..." Her hand moved to his upper back.

He remembered now a nightmare he had as a small child. He was very little and with very, very irrational fears, and this nightmare was borne of such a fear. He had been shrunk, somehow, and had crawled into his grandmother's room to tell her. The carpet stood out like a great pink forest, but its color was not inviting but added to the terror. He at first navigated it softly, tentatively, afraid of something he wasn't sure of. But it didn't take long for it to start raining. Down, down, down from the ceiling were heavy drops of crimson, clouding his vision and carrying him off in a riptide like Alice in Wonderland. He remembered almost drowning, and being tipped out some place much later... only to see a huge dot in the sky growing bigger, and bigger, and bigger, it was the shape of a foot and no matter where he ran he couldn't get away from it, until finally-

"My Baby."

He snapped out of it, exhausted, his breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the carpet. It took him a few seconds, but he realized soon that his head was throbbing, his body was shaking and his eyes were streaming tears.

[Penny]

SPOILER: Click to show

The heavy, iron-wrought chains binding Lewis Marchatter's wrists and ankles couldn't be any tighter, with as much force as to probably turn a normal man's hands blue. But the blood flowing through his veins was far more than any mortal man could possibly handle, practically resembling black, bone-melting acid. But with this bottled up power, rage put to waste by another one of Alice's foolish decisions. The eternally blazing inferno residing where his heart should've been burned with more homicidal - if not genocidal - wrath than usual at the moment, but nothing that could be read on his facial features said anything about it. Only the smirk, that psychotic, smug smile that held back a cartoonishly long tongue signified his everlasting hatred for just about everything in existence, specifically the filthy mortals residing in the castle - hiscastle.

As Lewis sat, immobilized and trapped like a rat in the corner of his cell, his fists clenched tightly, shaking like an aftershock and four thin streaks of oily black blood trickling down his closed palms. The detained Headmaster let out a feral roar of animalistic rage as he thrashed and pounded against everything he could reach, tongue flailing wildly as much as he was. The scene was genuinely fearsome, and the heavy-duty chains encroaching him seemed to warp and bend to oblong proportions, almost as if they were about to snap like twigs . . .

. . . and as soon as the violent tangent had started, it ended just as quickly, Lewis returning to his still and stoic position in the corner. The Conductor, that bastard; in what was his weakest moment, he chose to return, in an insulting fashion, and poke and prod at him with petty insults and slander. In league with Little Oscar and the rest of those pigdog brats, most likely. He'd see to it they all get castrated, and he'd be first in line. Then Z, of course. Maybe throw him to his own idiotic tinker-toys after he was finished. The rest of them? Off with their heads. Executions had always been an old past time of his. All but Johanna, that whore. The child who had somehow survived through his trials relatively unscathed, for what it was worth in this place. But he wouldn't kill her outright; that would be far too easy. Once he had his way with the cheeky slut, she'd start seeing things his way. Alice did need a new playmate, after all.

But for now, the fearsome and mighty Lewis was left to rot, seething in a pit of his own rage and shackles of iron-wrought chains . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~

Even through the fine cloth of his white glove, Lewis felt the faint but ever so satisfying squelch of the young boy's adam's apple between his index finger and thumb. His glazed over eyes watched, spectated as a Roman emperor would over two squabbling gladiators in the coliseum. First, the slightly warm sensation radiated upon his fingers - then the blood. At first, it appeared to be an ugly bruise, but quickly reddened to that of a ripe apple as his grip loosened on his throat. The boy's life essence began to bubble up and ooze from between his clenched teeth and out from the sides of his mouth, his eyes, those baby blue eyes he'd been complimented on by other students so very much, rolled into the back of his head, dialated and emotionless. As a final gurgled breath escaped his throat, now filled with blood, Lewis released him from his vice grip, watching him tumble to the whitewashed floors as he lay face first in a pool of his own blood.

The Headmaster looked down at the latest casualty of the school, almost with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. Taking him by his unruly mane of hair, Lewis lifted the boys face from the floor, an uneven oval completely painted red, save for the dull whites of his eyes. Looking upon his most recent work of art with satisfaction and disgust, he slammed the dead boy's face into the floor again, making a large indent on the tiles.

With a chuckle and sigh, Lewis delicately removed the once white glove from his hand, soggy and thick with blood, and tossed it over his shoulder.

(The last parts a flashback, if you will. Maybe a past year, or something.)