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Post by Grantaire on Apr 20, 2009 15:07:43 GMT -5
Disturbingly, it didn't redden under the leather, merely wealed up, pinkish and pale, but Grantaire did make a show of crying out for more than it hurt--he didn't want to be denied his pay, after all. He appropriately strained ropey muscle and arched prettily.
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 20, 2009 15:18:50 GMT -5
*Jean-François lashed Grantaire four more times before he sensed something. The man cried out well enough but... There was a slight frown as he closed the distance between them. His eyes narrowed on the man's skin. There was definitely something strange. His aim wasn't off, but the other's flesh was...different.*
"What's the meaning of this?" *He breathed, trying to sort it out himself.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 20, 2009 15:23:32 GMT -5
"Of what...?" he sniffled appropriately, unaware that he wasn't marking well. It had begun to actually hurt, after all, and he could feel something warmish and wet running down his back where one wheal had opened and released the pinkish water that served as blood for him.
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 20, 2009 15:38:40 GMT -5
*The marquis's gloved finger tips wiped at the liquid, holding it up close to Grantaire's face.*
"This." *He hissed.* "What sort of charade is this?"
*Did he think him stupid? He'd paid good money for this (or at least he would) and he was not one to forgive being cheated.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 20, 2009 15:44:49 GMT -5
His eyes took a moment to focus on the blood and to see that it was not and he frowned.
"You think I did that on purpose? How would propose so? I told you...I was dead."
Now his teeth chattered a little as well, as his skin cooled with the escaping fluid.
"It's just...water. I'm sorry, but you can still do as you like."
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 21, 2009 9:06:34 GMT -5
*The words sank in slowly, Jean-François's attention was set on the wounds on the man's back. He drew a knife deftly from his belt and drew it slow across Grantaire's back, wanting to examine him further.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 21, 2009 14:34:53 GMT -5
The crack of the whip might have been dulled, but a deep cut was easily felt and he grit his teeth and groaned against real pain.
A fresh spill of the pinkish stuff oozed from the wound and flowed down his back, a bit more viscous than water, but not nearly as thick as blood.
"What are you doing?"
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 21, 2009 14:47:34 GMT -5
*Jean-François backhanded him roughly up the back of the head.*
"I'll uncover this farce, whatever it might be."
*His eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of it. But it was like nothing he'd seen before.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 21, 2009 14:53:27 GMT -5
The smallish man leaned forward against the wood he was up against, getting colder by the moment.
"There's no farce, Marquis...I need some water to drink, or I won't be able to continue."
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 21, 2009 15:00:57 GMT -5
*He stopped then, eyes lifting to the man's head.*
"What do you mean?" *He asked, cold calculation in his voice.*
"What will happen if you don't have the water?"
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 21, 2009 15:07:23 GMT -5
"I'll die, I expect."
He had run dry the once, but Brishen had tended to him quickly. He had no sense of the time that had passed and was certainly unsure of what would happen if he were left that way, but there was no reason Morangias needed to know any of that.
"I'll stiffen up and go cold. That wouldn't be much fun for you, yes?"
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 23, 2009 9:17:58 GMT -5
*He considered the options, that the odd little man might actually be telling the truth, as unlike a scenario as that would present. Eyes narrow, Jean-François crossed the room without another word, returning just as quietly with a glass of water. It may have seemed a kind gesture to someone in passing, but for those that had sent any time with the marquis, it was quite obvious that he did it only out of his own interest. His gaze was fixed as he handed the glass to the man abruptly.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 23, 2009 16:31:48 GMT -5
He drank only half of what was offered, setting the glass on the floor to his side in case he should need it later, glancing over his shoulder before raising his arms up again.
"As you please, monsieur...." a small smirk tugged at his lips as the tiniest shift in power did not escape his notice.
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Post by Jean-François de Morangias on Apr 28, 2009 8:46:53 GMT -5
*He would regret that smirk, though Jean-François saw no reason to punish it directly. If Grantaire thought he was better than an animal...he would simply have to be reeducated.*
Of course it will be to my pleasure, insolent fool.
*He did not move back, instead drawing the blade gracefully over the man's back, beginning to etch a pattern.*
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Post by Grantaire on Apr 28, 2009 13:41:41 GMT -5
Grantaire bit his lip to stifle his cries and grunted against the cuts, the muscles in his back twitching at the abuse. The thin stuff that passed for blood ran down his skin and made it gleam wetly and it took him a couple of minutes to figure out that Morangias was actually carving something.
"What are you doing?"
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