stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Upon this very wall of pain, she is subjected to the mercy of Risque's tyranny, as she seemed more than content to allow someone else to do her dirty work, like some twisted conductor to a ghoulish orchestra. Why the hell she wouldn't just kill her? What was the point? After all this time and space between them, Harley was not the threat she once was. Could you ever call a human with a big mouth and a knack for survival a threat? How adept the raven haired woman seemed at drawing out those unsavory vampires like cockroaches from their confines. Why now? How tired she was of it, all those wasted years slowly warping and changing her into something she hardly recognized.

Sacrosanct. It was her home, but it would also be her death sentence.

Those hallucinations toy and mislead as that distinct memory of being somewhere else vaguely lingering somewhere in the back of that mind. Her eyes are a betraying thing as she stares at her bloodied, wordless friend, how so very sure this wasn't real but there it was, looking so very real, down to the very last detail. It was like she was mouthing something and yet she could not quite grasp at what that actually was when suddenly there is that shift and that innocence is gone in a flash. Those fangs revealed and bared like some threat before latching its self to her arm, relentlessly ripping into her tender flesh viciously. She calls out her name, yelling for her to stop and yet her desperate words fall upon deaf ears. That pain intensifying like a searing red-hot poker while her arm was brutalized. She stared down, unable to see that damage done, just what she thought be her friend brutalizing her. About half way through, that brutality that convincing vision of Isolt simply dissipates, giving way to her true torturer. Tetradore. Her whole body seemed to recoil, that sadness shifting away from her as she has that moment to steal a true glimpse of that gruesome scene. Anger, fear, and complete disgust filled horror floods her, taking in that gruesome scene of her flesh, hanging there, barely attached. That tattoo was lost in a sea of crimson and that excruciating pain.. It was unlike Risque's bite, unlike any physical pain she had felt before.

It left her gasping, choking on words as she couldn't help but stare at her own body seemingly falling apart by Tetradore's hand and that glinting ornate blade he wielded. It was like her mind couldn't comprehend that the blood was hers, that it was her body experiencing that complete agony. Try as she might the raven haired woman tries in a desperate plight to pull away from him, spewing out her hate in a slew of insults, but it was all in vain. As was anything in that moment, that blood trickles down her exposed arms, once milky satin were now full of gore. Her body began to shake as it threatening to go in shock, but that iron resolve seems to defy it, with every last ounce of fight left in her. She uses that anger, that agony to be her driving force, even as that room swirled in frenzied pace around her. All except for Tetradore. That breathing is reduced into nothing but deep panting, those pitiful sounds leaving her lips didn't belong to her did it? She was hardly sure what her own body was doing, was saying. But never did she scream. She yelled.. she cursed, she lashed out. Yet scream she did not.

In those moments where she garnered a semblance of control, the woman glowered at him, those vibrant eyes harbouring and festering that undiluted hate she possessed for that man then. Exactly what Risque had wanted, she hardly cared, her mind was far from rational. In an instant, those eyes began to flutter, a breath away from passing out. No, her mind screamed, unsure if she said it out loud or not, but it ricocheted in her very mind all the same. It felt like in those moments that she wanted to cry, helplessly, it was like the well had long run dry. It had been far too long, like she was entirely incapable of this very act that gave an outlet to the frustration that one mere mind could no longer hold. How long had it truly been since her body allowed her to feel the trail of wet tears down her face? Surely if she was going to cry, now would have been just cause to. Yet, still she doesn't, the woman was empty, the very repressed emotions swirled around that empty space. Her vision once again is taken over, distorting Tetradore's face in a disfigured monster, his jaw unhinged, cheeks ripped in a grotesque smile, that face was half animalistic as it was human.. well human-esque. Those soulless eyes piercing into her, its shiny obsidian teeth glinting from a crimson light. She didn't know if she was spared with those illusions or if it only made matters worse. At the very least, the raven-haired woman was freed of the sight of her own flesh, her tattooed skin separated from her body as that monster, Tetradore brought Risque that pound of flesh she so desired. Risque was nothing more than a shadow in a backdrop of shadow tendrils, a malicious phantom plucking the strings of Harley's own demise. And Risque seemed to be enjoying every second of it.

Just like that, the image of Tetradore is back again, that searing feeling of her arm assaulted her simultaneously. That stinging was unlike anything she had felt before. She was her tormentor trying to wipe the blood from his hands, as though that blood was truly as stubborn as she. Good, let that blood stain your hands. She wished it never came off his vile hands again. She hoped he would forever be reminded of the people he tormented for that wicked vampire filth, the way he so easily complied to those sadistic whims.

Fuck him.

Those voices in the backgrounds were mumbled against the roar of her own mind, the room seemed like it was moving, dancing and shifting upon its very self. It was impossible to tell what was real and what wasn't. It was hard to focus on anything beyond that mind consuming pain, beyond those flitting images pirouetting before her eyes. Monsters and people she knew and cared for all appeared before her eyes, until those monsters seemed to consume them, every last one, slaughtering all that was left of her very life. Their hungry eyes staring at her was a cruel sadistic gleaming, as though she were next. All while Risque uttered her desires and orders, it was impossible to tell what it was she was saying. All before unceremoniously, took her leave. That bitch couldn't even dare to see this? Whatever this was, through. Harley's fate was only a mere detail rather than anything of actual significance, so why even bother with all of this? That blood seems to stream steadily from her, from her two fresh new wounds, that liquid dripping along her hanging body into a pool of glinting ruby red directly below. Drip, drip, drip. It was the only sound she was aware of with intensifying clarity. It might have been the last thing she heard before she passed out.

Her eyes fluttered open, finally seeing something... or was it only an illusion. She whimpered before registering that hulking form of an impressive obsidian hued jaguar with emerald eyes simply staring at her, assessing, waiting. It was fucking unnerving. "What the fuck are you looking at?" If only that voice was as strong as those commanding words! Then recognition of that feline made her jerk those chains clanging, that pain she thought was bad now... Well, it was nothing in comparison to what was coming next. It took a moment before memories came clamoring to the surface, her mind and body felt like a warzone. "Come to gloat, Tetradore? Eat a bag of dicks.." She grumbled those near unintelligible words, but that cat seemed entirely unaffected by her existence let alone what she had to say.

It was after a few long painful moments that the large black cat seemed to move with distinct purpose. Without hesitation. Shit.. shit.. fuckity shit. She struggled against her binds, it only served to tear at her flesh. She hated she couldn't fight, couldn't at least claim her right to at least have a chance. Because she had none. That fate was sealed, cemented firmly into place. She felt her heartbeat race, a blinding frenzy beating in her chest like creature trying desperately leave its confines. This was it and there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"I'm going to haunt your ass.." She exclaimed defiantly, scrounging up the last of the hate and acerbic sarcasm she could muster, assuming those words would be her last. If only... that would have been her last words.. No, she had to ruin it when that big cat had to shove his fucking face almost right in her crotch, she nearly rolled her eyes, trying to jerk away from him. "Fuck off, perv." It was the only thing she could mutter before that acid eats away at the fabric and her skin. Those teeth puncturing her flesh... she thought that other pain was bad.. Nothing compared to that acid. Blackness overtook her, Harley's body trying desperately to protect her from that unbearable pain. Nothing could. This was hell.. she was sure of it.

Somehow, she found herself within his arms, those same emerald eyes peering down at her, that agony made her body jerk, made her curl up into herself against the man that mostly caused it all. She couldn't help it. Those gentle words only made her that much more furious, like he embedded one last dagger within her and twisted. Somehow, she found it within herself to speak again, her eyes fighting to open, to glare at him, but she lost that battle. She felt so cold, so helpless, and spent. She hated the only warmth she felt, came from him and yet it hardly registered. "You're an idiot.. There is no such thing as a safe place." Well.. maybe when your dead but that was up for debate. She probably wouldn't even remember those words when she came to, when that change began to overtake her body. All she could remember was being whisked away by shadows.

While she slept.... It might as well have been days, weeks, who the hell knew. Harley's mind was full of nightmares, relentless nightmares that tore her apart from the inside out. When that beaten woman finally woke, she was nothing but a tornado. Wanting nothing more than destroy all in her path. Waking up in that unfamiliar bed in that strange place, assaulted with unaccustomed sights and smells assault her all at once. It was like it all came back to her in a furious, disorienting tsunami. Panic, controls her along with anger as she trashes that room, until near exhaustion, it didn't take much. She knew so little of what infects her, all she knew was that the world she was accustomed to was completely different, it looked and felt different too. Her veins felt like they might burst at the seams. She looked into that mirror, looked at the weak and pale woman within that reflection before she broke it with her fist. The scent of her bloody, cut up knuckles only made her curse, her head pounding like the world's worst hangover. More surprisingly, she found her wounds healed except for that bite mark Tetradore had made. Still those injures seemed almost super imposed as she stared in awe. Not a ripple, not a scar marred the flesh she could see.

She was almost surprised to find that door unlocked as she stormed off into the night, wanting nothing more to find something familiar. Something comforting, safe. She somehow made her way completely disheveled and in that wild state to Isolt's, her body a trembling, frail mess. It was miraculous she even made it to that familiar house during daylight. The door was locked and she cursed before sliding down that large wooden door to the ground where she curls up into a helpless ball upon the ground. waiting for nightfall. Her eyes close tightly, wanting nothing more than to let those tears spill and yet she unable to. So it was... the beginning of the end.

Harley Westward