Lucinda stands, turns, curls her hands into fists at her side. She catches Birdy’s eye, twitches her head just enough to make the eye contact a question. Birdy chews on her bottom lip for a moment before she nods. Lucinda doesn't even nod back before she turns around and stomps on his shin, repeats until she feels the snap and he screams again.
Around the fence, the men and boys shift uncomfortably, pull away. A few in the back leave, and a handful of others look between each other and Lucinda as she circles around the boy on the ground, now curled into a ball. She slams another kick into his shoulder, feels something snap or twist or give under her boot, and his screaming turns into whimpers.
“Fuck you,” she snarls, turns her back.
The arena attendant hosp the fence, rolls the boy onto his back.
“I’m calling that for her,” he says, quietly. “And he’s not up to another round.”
Lucinda turns around, leans against the fence in front of Dredge. Her bird hops closer, croaks, hops away. A couple of the boy’s teammates hop the fence, help pick him up and hoist him over the fence, toward the infirmary.
“We gonna be safe?” Dredge asks, voice low. She tightens her hands around the dry, shattering wood of the fence.
“I’ll stay up on guard tonight, along with whoever else volunteers,” Lucinda replies. She rubs her palms across her thighs, shoves them in her pockets. “I also thought I would invite the priestess over to eat, have her work a little magic to keep them away.”
Dredge nods, but Lucinda doesn’t turn to look at her, just watches the men carry him away, watches slaves watch the men too, then turn away, lean into each other, giggle silently.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (49b/?)
Lucinda stands, turns, curls her hands into fists at her side. She catches Birdy’s eye, twitches her head just enough to make the eye contact a question. Birdy chews on her bottom lip for a moment before she nods. Lucinda doesn't even nod back before she turns around and stomps on his shin, repeats until she feels the snap and he screams again.
Around the fence, the men and boys shift uncomfortably, pull away. A few in the back leave, and a handful of others look between each other and Lucinda as she circles around the boy on the ground, now curled into a ball. She slams another kick into his shoulder, feels something snap or twist or give under her boot, and his screaming turns into whimpers.
“Fuck you,” she snarls, turns her back.
The arena attendant hosp the fence, rolls the boy onto his back.
“I’m calling that for her,” he says, quietly. “And he’s not up to another round.”
Lucinda turns around, leans against the fence in front of Dredge. Her bird hops closer, croaks, hops away. A couple of the boy’s teammates hop the fence, help pick him up and hoist him over the fence, toward the infirmary.
“We gonna be safe?” Dredge asks, voice low. She tightens her hands around the dry, shattering wood of the fence.
“I’ll stay up on guard tonight, along with whoever else volunteers,” Lucinda replies. She rubs her palms across her thighs, shoves them in her pockets. “I also thought I would invite the priestess over to eat, have her work a little magic to keep them away.”
Dredge nods, but Lucinda doesn’t turn to look at her, just watches the men carry him away, watches slaves watch the men too, then turn away, lean into each other, giggle silently.
Good.