[attr="class","main"]
For all the bravado in his spoken choice, Cillian feels immense
PRESSURE not unlike his Guardian's presence as they await the final tally. Breath shivers from his lungs as the verdict is cast: a mutual show of
TRUST.[break][break]
There would be punishment, but they would survive.[break][break]
Still, dread coils in his stomach as the platform rises from beneath. They're corralled like animals to the slaughter, the space too tightly packed to identify any defining features in the crowd. The smell of blood, sweat, and sickly sweet
MOCHI blends a revolting cocktail. Cillian takes shallow breaths through his mouth in spite of the mask's heat.[break][break]
It feels as though they descend for ages.[break][break]
He retreats into the depths of his mind, trying to focus on anything but the whimpers and snivels of those caged in around him. Numbly, he steps from the platform when prodded by one of the Megalopolan guards.[break][break]
When the Okidogi begins hurling prisoners into the pit, he tenses, fight or flight kicking in — but upon realizing that those sent below were not
dead, he elects to freeze, instead. Fingers curl to fists, resisting the temptation to strike at his captor, and the muscled mutt condemns Cillian to the same fate as his fellow captives.[break][break]
It hurts less than he expects to land.
Something squishes beneath his palm, and he swallows the urge to vomit at the twisted turns his imagination takes. It could be anything. Waste. Intestines. But the smell down here reeks strongest of sugar and spoiling fruit.[break][break]
MOCHI. Of course.[break][break]
He sets to work obediently. Quite literally blindly. Ignoring the screams and shuffling sounds, keeping his head down as Rocket has taught him.[break][break]
Until a familiar voice challenges that resolve.[break][break]
His attention snaps toward the sound; he'd recognize
Tempest Quinn's voice anywhere, even muffled by the mask as it was. But Cillian isn't the only one that's heard. As the as-yet-unseen creature lashes out at his husband, chained helplessly to the floor, Cillian lunges toward it in a reckless tackle.[break][break]
"Get the fuck away from him."[break][break]
And it does. After it's done with Temp, it kicks Cillian hard enough to send him sprawling back. He slips on the mochi-littered floor as he tries to scrabble back to his feet. The creature kicks, and kicks again.[break][break]
Only when Cillian stills, playing dead like a possum before a predator, does it move on to its next unfortunate victim.[break][break]
"Temp," Cillian whispers, voice hoarse from pain.
"You OK?"[break][break]
YdIoFt6F
[break][break]
[attr="class","notes"]
notes
[break]
WEAKLING WARD[break]
excellent, I wanted to roll low[break]
while good at staying quiet and unnoticed, he sees his husband getting the shit kicked out of him and tries to intervene[break]
now you're both in pain, congratulations cil![break]
plays dead 'til the thing fucks off, then checks to see if temp is OK[break]
he was NOT QUIET when he snapped at the creature, so anyone who'd reasonably recognize his voice (friends, fellow rockets, established enemies) can do so!