CW: (proto)-Druchii doing (proto)-Druchii Things (torture for the lulz, that kind of thing).
Highest Probability Nexus, Moderate Midrange Future
The Webway
Commorragh
Agony ripped though him, the collar only making it worse as it sent arcs of lighting into him.
He did not give a single indication despite the pain, not even a tremble that would spill the wine over his half-flayed back as his 'master' smirked, clearly enjoying using him as
furniture after the whipping had grown
too dull for the ancient princeling.
He gave no indication of his true feelings, masking them under the agonized slave his master expected, even as the ancient and his fellows indulged in decadence around other such unfortunates.
Not a hint of truth escaped him.
Not until the party had finished, hours (days? He could not tell) later, and he was allowed to stand on limbs that trembled in spite of his will, to trail behind his 'master' like the others.
In that moment, where no-one could see, dark eyes
burned in a pale face that had never known any light save the dying suns of Commorragh, a hate and rage that could shake the galaxy shining through with unspeakable promise, as cold and merciless as the deepest depths of the black between stars.
One day, "Master", swore the man who would one day be called Asdrubael Vect,
You will die screaming while I smile, and I will have a footstool made of your skin and bones, and a fine goblet made of your skull.
But that day was not today, and so he submerged once more in what was
expected,
Biding his time.
Stand By…
A/N: What's this, Mech keeping two different Quests updated in the same week? Madness!
.
