megaTEN (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenshinoakuma) wrote2007-10-15 05:12 pm
tenshinoakuma) wrote2007-10-15 05:12 pm
Entry tags:
[Fic, TSAS AU] The Aftermath, take two
Because Cas (and his creator, untold_reveries) is just that awesome, the Aftermath of Day 2 (which, er, Tellie has yet to write her mirror of it *HINTHINT? :D* but will probably be coming around some time !
--
Trian threw up into the washbasin. He shuddered and leaned heavily on it, fingers gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turned white. He felt sick, sick enough to push away his disgust for the whole act and force himself to vomit into his washbasin in an attempt to drown out the taste of Casimir in his mouth.
But he couldn't do anything to remove the memory of Casimir moving inside him.
Fingers tightening even more on the basin's edge, Trian stared at the mess the bile from his stomach had left. He knew he should clean it up, get away from the rancid smell, but his fingers wouldn't let go of the basin and they ignored all his commands to do so. Chest heaving as he fought down the urge to throw up again, Trian leaned his head against the mirror on the wall, closing his eyes, wishing again and again this wasn't real.
But the insides of his eyelids were painted with memories of blood and pain, and he could hear his own screams as he tried to crawl away, and remembered the way Casimir stripped away all of his control over himself, and Trian nearly screamed in despair. Trian wanted to burn something, anything, everything, burn himself so he didn't need to live in this nightmare anymore. He didn't care if suicide was one of the most undignified ways to die; he didn't have any dignity left after Casimir had finished with him. Even so, he didn't have the will or determination to summon a ball of fire and consume himself within the fla--
Oh god, you fucking fool!
He raised his head off the mirror and smashed his fist into the glass with a scream of frustration. The mirror cracked, bits of glass falling into the washbasin. Trian's warped expression glared back at him from the remainder of the mirror, blood flowing from his hand into the cracks in the glass.
He cursed at himself, grinding his fist harder into the broken glass, vaguely aware the shards were digging deeper into his bloodied hand. How many times had he told others not to let their emotions, their fears, turn them into useless, pathetic idiots in the face of danger? How many times had he told others not to forget every, single, fucking, tool they had at their disposal, no matter the circumstances? And what the fuck did he just do?
Trian raised his hand off the mirror, only to sink his claws into it, the blood starting to trickle down his arm. He ignored the frantic knocks on the washroom door, ignored the "Trian, are you alright? I heard the sound of a mirror breaking! Let me in, please!" and ignored the fierce tugging at the locked door. Trian relished in the vague pain in his hand, so different from the claws on his shoulders, the ache in his legs and back.
This is no dream!
This is reality!
Wake up!
Trian narrowed his eyes at his warped reflection, and several eyes narrowed back at him. Dragging his bloodied hand from the mirror, with an angry jerk of his wrist, a flame flared around his injured hand. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run a mile without stopping. Things weren't the same as they had been back then. He had changed, he had more options at his disposal, and it was time he remembered that, even though it was too late to save himself. Clenching his fist, the fire disappeared, and several distorted fanged grins smiled eerily at him.
Fuck this shit, Casimir was going to die.
--
O-Only not. Yeah. Because he can't ohohoho
untold_reveries) is just that awesome, the Aftermath of Day 2 (which, er, Tellie has yet to write her mirror of it *HINTHINT? :D* but will probably be coming around some time !--
Trian threw up into the washbasin. He shuddered and leaned heavily on it, fingers gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles turned white. He felt sick, sick enough to push away his disgust for the whole act and force himself to vomit into his washbasin in an attempt to drown out the taste of Casimir in his mouth.
But he couldn't do anything to remove the memory of Casimir moving inside him.
Fingers tightening even more on the basin's edge, Trian stared at the mess the bile from his stomach had left. He knew he should clean it up, get away from the rancid smell, but his fingers wouldn't let go of the basin and they ignored all his commands to do so. Chest heaving as he fought down the urge to throw up again, Trian leaned his head against the mirror on the wall, closing his eyes, wishing again and again this wasn't real.
But the insides of his eyelids were painted with memories of blood and pain, and he could hear his own screams as he tried to crawl away, and remembered the way Casimir stripped away all of his control over himself, and Trian nearly screamed in despair. Trian wanted to burn something, anything, everything, burn himself so he didn't need to live in this nightmare anymore. He didn't care if suicide was one of the most undignified ways to die; he didn't have any dignity left after Casimir had finished with him. Even so, he didn't have the will or determination to summon a ball of fire and consume himself within the fla--
Oh god, you fucking fool!
He raised his head off the mirror and smashed his fist into the glass with a scream of frustration. The mirror cracked, bits of glass falling into the washbasin. Trian's warped expression glared back at him from the remainder of the mirror, blood flowing from his hand into the cracks in the glass.
He cursed at himself, grinding his fist harder into the broken glass, vaguely aware the shards were digging deeper into his bloodied hand. How many times had he told others not to let their emotions, their fears, turn them into useless, pathetic idiots in the face of danger? How many times had he told others not to forget every, single, fucking, tool they had at their disposal, no matter the circumstances? And what the fuck did he just do?
Trian raised his hand off the mirror, only to sink his claws into it, the blood starting to trickle down his arm. He ignored the frantic knocks on the washroom door, ignored the "Trian, are you alright? I heard the sound of a mirror breaking! Let me in, please!" and ignored the fierce tugging at the locked door. Trian relished in the vague pain in his hand, so different from the claws on his shoulders, the ache in his legs and back.
This is no dream!
This is reality!
Wake up!
Trian narrowed his eyes at his warped reflection, and several eyes narrowed back at him. Dragging his bloodied hand from the mirror, with an angry jerk of his wrist, a flame flared around his injured hand. He was breathing heavily, as if he had run a mile without stopping. Things weren't the same as they had been back then. He had changed, he had more options at his disposal, and it was time he remembered that, even though it was too late to save himself. Clenching his fist, the fire disappeared, and several distorted fanged grins smiled eerily at him.
Fuck this shit, Casimir was going to die.
--
O-Only not. Yeah. Because he can't ohohoho