forum Immortality Is A Curse//Reboot//Closed//0/0

Started November 04, 2020 by @gracehustle

tune

Well then, I'll do my best to get a starter up within the hour unless you want to start? (I want to reply to our other rp first)

I can wait for you to start, if that's alright? I'm actually working on a different starter right now lol

Caligo was sure this beating was going to be her last. Immortal or not, the pain that coursed through her body with every kick and punch was unbearable, enough to cause her to beg for the guards to stop. And in return, they just went harder. The chains that fastened her hands above her head didn't budge as she pulled against them, just held her stubbornly in place on her knees against the stone wall. At least she knew she would pass out the next time her jewel bound rib was hit and caused excruciating pain. A comforting thought.

She knew she deserved the beating she was receiving. She knew exactly what she had done wrong. Or what she had been told she had done wrong when in her eyes it was the right move. The young man that had been shoved into the arena didn't deserve to die at her hands though. He was clearly just on the verge of adulthood, and she had refused to kill him. Much to the disapproval of the crowd and of the Borland family. She had watched him die at the hands of unforgiving guards instead, and then had been promptly been dragged out of the arena to be punished. All because she had ruined one of the fights that were going on in the arena for the day.

At least being beaten meant she wouldn't have to kill until at least tomorrow.

She groaned and almost doubled over as she was broken out of her thoughts by a kick to the gut, tears freely streaming down her bloody face. It never got easier. Five hundred and twenty-seven years of being owned, and yet the beatings never became less painful.

"Stop! Please," She cried out, almost giving in and accepting the abuse until the beatings actually did stop. Caligo leaned heavily against the wall and used the chains to support her weight as she whimpered. They would give her a few minutes to recover her wits, then she would be forced to her feet, chained, then lead to her glorified cell. But until then, she was going to take the recovery time.

At least the Borland family was slightly laxer on their rules than some of the other families. In the sense that as long as she killed and did their bidding, she was fed every so often, and her cell was disguised as a room. A room that had little more than a lumpy mattress on the floor, a blanket, and some semblance of heating during colder nights -but a room nonetheless.

Annabelle couldn't stand to hear the cries of the immortal down the hall. She wasn't new to the Borland family by any means, but she'd only just recently been assigned to this job, and she already despised it with every fiber of her being. She had to stop herself many time from barging into the room and demanding that they stop at once, hyperaware of the fact that if she did, she'd only make it worse. Instead, she waited outside like the exemplary guard she was supposed to be until one of her superiors exited, nodding that she was to take over.

With the help of another of her peers, she unlocked the shackles holding the immortals arms over her head, trying to give her as much time to adjust as possible before tasking the other set of chains she'd been handed and clamping them around her wrists. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but she doubted the effort was much appreciated when she and the other guard lifted her by the armpits and started to pull her along to her room. Again, Annabelle tried to be gentle, but the other guard was having none of it, forcing her to match the unforgiving pace set for the immortal.

As they finally reached the room, the other guard—she really needed to learn his name—unlocked the door and passed her the keys, muttering something about how he had other duties. "Make sure you take care of this," she heard him say before he disappeared around the corner.

Annabelle sighed, then carefully guided the immortal—she should learn her name, too—to the pathetic looking mattress in the corner. She deliberated for a moment, then decided to hell with it, and opened her mouth against her better judgement. "Are–" Are you okay? she started to ask, when she realized what a stupid question it was to ask. "What's your name?" she asked instead, quickly adding, "I'm Annabelle."

Caligo collapsed almost as soon as her hands were unlocked and she didn't stop herself from dropping completely to the floor, wishing she had the energy to beg for another minute to rest her chafed wrists before the new ones were clamped on. She just whimpered slightly instead, trying to focus on the fact that at least the cool metal was soothing for a split second. The illusion of the metal being soothing wasn't in her mind for long though, not as she felt them rub and surely tear into the raw skin.

It hurt worse when she was yanked upwards by the guards, scrambling to her feet to relieve some pressure on her arms. But the journey back to her room wasn't short, and before long her legs were buckling and the hands that held her up gripped harder. Or one set did. She could feel the difference in the hands that were holding onto her. One set was rough, calloused large hands of a regular guard, but the other were smaller, and they were more gentle, most likely the hands of a guard who had just been assigned to this area of the Boreland estate.

The gentleness didn't help though. If anything, it made her let out more groans of pain as she was forced to try to walk to keep up with the set of guards.

At least she had gained the partial strength to stand upright by the time they reached her cell, even if it did require intense focus. And she was able to sit on her mattress without completely collapsing in the arms of whatever guard was in charge of her.

She leaned against the wall as her eyes pressed shut, groaning in response to whatever had been spoken to her. Right now wasn't a good time. Caligo knew no answers would lead to being hit though, and so she focused on trying to remember what had been asked. It had been something about her name. What was her name? Did she respond with the one she had been given by the Borland, or her own name, or maybe just her powers?

"Executioner…death," She got out roughly, figuring her Borland given name and powers was the right response. She would find out soon enough by if she was hit or not.

"Not the names given to you—I meant your name," Anna clarified softly, looking at her hands and feeling useless. It wasn't like she could provide much, if any comfort, and she'd do well to remember any actions she took would be reported back to the Borlands. There was something she could do, though, while the only guard currently on duty was her.

"Hold that thought—I'll be right back," she promised, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. She locked it carefully, knowing there'd be consequences if she didn't, and left to find what she was looking for.

A few minutes later she returned with two flasks of water and a cloth. She opened the door and then shut it again behind her, slowly coming to rest the items on the mattress beside the woman. "I can't do much, and I don't have a lot of time, but I brought these," she explained, gesturing to the flasks and cloth. "One's for drinking, and the other is to clean up your wounds. I can help you if you'd like, but I have to be quick—the next guards will arrive in less than ten minutes," she elaborated.

She opened her mouth to speak as the guard cut her off, earning a groan in reply as Caligo opened her eyes slowly. Watching the female leave, she started to attempt to check the damage. From the fights, and from her joyous beatings, she knew that not only was she going to be bruised beyond recognition for a few days, but she was also going to have more injuries than she liked.

It hurt to move, like usual, as she pulled her arm up into her lap, glancing down at the sight. At first, it looked horrible, but she knew most had to be dust from the arena, and soon she could see the raw and bleeding part of her wrist from the cuffs. Most everything else was just cuts or gashes, and none were terribly deep.

Caligo's eyes snapped up fearfully from her wound the second the door opened again though. Expecting it to be more soldiers to drag her to wherever she was required to be next, she was faintly surprised to see the same guard as before. This time holding cloth and water.

She listened without interrupting, only speaking softly when she was sure she wasn't going to interrupt. Interrupting meant pain after all. "Is there something I have to do to earn your help?" Caligo asked, shaking her head slowly, "I can't do what you want. Guards have done this before, I can't kill whoever you want me too, I'm-i'm sorry.'

_{(I'm so sorry for disappearing—this past week has been super crappy and busy on top of experiencing some of the worst pain in my life, and I completely and utterly lost track of time)}

–

Anna hesitated, caught off guard by the nature of the question. "Of course not," she quickly reassured, running a hand through her hair awkwardly. "I don't want anyone dead, and I sure as hell didn't come here asking you to kill anyone. I just hate seeing how you're treated…" she trailed off, struggling to keep any traces of pity out of her voice. Something told her the immortal in front of her wouldn't appreciate it very much.

She cleared her throat softly and added, "I wanted to help in any way I could."

_{(It's completely ok, I just wanted to make sure you weren't disappearing forever. If you need to take longer and take time for yourself I understand and I'll wait as long as you need)(Also I'll answer to this rp as soon as I can))}

Caligo simply gave a hesitant nod, eyeing the flasks with a wary eye, "You're helping me…without wanting anything in return?" Even if she had heard wrong, it was the nicest gesture anyone had done for her in years, and that alone was enough to make her suspicious of the guard's intentions.

Either way, she winced and reached out for the supplies, sure that they wouldn't be offered again. And even if it hurt like hell to move, she was going to clean her wounds as best she could. But first, in return, she murmured, "Caligo. My name's Caligo…you asked earlier." Then she forced herself to go through the pain to unscrew the cap of the first flask, taking a hesitant sip.