[OPEN] i am shell and i am bone

[coerthantorment]

WHO: Brainwashed Estinien and YOU
WHAT: Having been dissipated during the Innocence's execution, Estinien returns very much changed.
WHERE: The Citadel, Achamoth
WHEN: Early Sekiseri
WARNINGS: Torture, abuse, brainwashing, public humiliation. The forecast for Estinien is extremely miserable and depressing at the moment.

I➔ Of the Abyss

He had been born into this world empty, with a body misshapen and unfit for survival. There had been no reason for it, no meaning to existing... he'd simply been formed, drawn from the abyss in the service of another. It was only at that master's touch that he was provided with a means and purpose to act. Only at their call that he had regained hazy memories of hatred and torment and remembered that there was something out there to blame for what he was.

His was a miserable existence, after all. Since the moment he had been pulled from his chrysalis, utterly helpless and blind, wracked with spiritual pain, he'd known that much. At first, living had been nothing but aimless suffering. With nothing inside of him besides a sense of devastating loss that he had no means to understand, he had eagerly latched on to whatever was given to him. To know that he had some use to his keepers, the ones that had gifted back his sight, gifted him the legs to stand on and hands to touch... he'd do whatever they wanted with the strength they had afforded him. Even if they saw him as a wretched creature worthy primarily of disgust, it didn't matter. Not when the alternative was unending, meaningless pain.

He's been told he'll have an opportunity to strike back against the forces that reduced him to this state, that destroyed whatever he was before. He had no memory of it. He's the spectral remains of something that once lived, and now there is only vengeance to look forward to. He'd like to hurt someone else, he thinks. To drag the enemies that he touched closer to himself, to what he had been made into. To make them experience it for as long as he can.

It's in that state of mind that he is first let loose into the Citadel, craving to inflict pain, but having been taught that no one within the tower's walls was to be harmed or struggled against. Instead, the people of the Citadel, the Aions in particular, were his objective superiors. His presence there was a mercy to him, and he was to accept whatever he was given by the others, whether it be torment or aid. His role was to act in their service, by whatever means his feeble mind could manage.

Any Kenoma who come upon him may recognize Estinien Wyrmblood, but only in some aspects of his form. To those with the Sight, he is attuned to the Kenoma and of the Firebrand. Physically, he is a mess. His torso and head still reflect the snow white of the Innocence, though with crimson, draconic eyes. The one on his left side is severely scarred, its sclera darkened with void. Each limb is similarly blackened, looking less like a natural extension of his body and more like foreign flesh that has been grafted on, scaled and clawed and monstrous.

His gait is unnatural, as if not quite accustomed to the idea of walking, as if his limbs are confusing to him. He's dressed in nothing but what appears as a rag-like loincloth, his long white hair unkempt and hanging in ragged chunks. Restraining him is a thick collar and muzzle. Around his darkened, greyed-out shard a sigil is carved - one that might be familiar to some. It's the very same mark of disfavour that Emet-Selch had briefly worn, all those months ago.

There is no recognition in his eyes.

II➔ Walking in Shame

While the Regent's mark on his chest has caused many of the Citadel's inhabitants to give him a wide berth, that hasn't been enough for some of them. Either having heard the rumours of who and what he is, or having seen him themself in the sky of Achamoth, some are unable to contain their spite for him. Though he's been made to heel already, a few of the Citadel's non-Aion residents may be seen heaping additional scorn on him, spitting cruel words and accusations that he has no context for.

Sometimes the abuse turns physical. You may witness Achamite soldiers berating him in the halls, shoving, tripping, or manhandling him. For his part, he has little reaction, taking whatever he is given as rightful and purposeful. At some point, a gaggle of Citadel neophytes assigned to cleaning duty dump a bucket of dirty wash water over him. Others hurl rocks.

[Feel free to invent other scenarios with Citadel NPCs if you want, I'm open.]

III➔ In the End

When he isn't aimlessly wandering the Citadel, he is caged for the night. While that first day Dionys is there to lock him up, from that point on she visits only intermittently to let him in and out, and much of his time is spent alone. His prison is something more befitting of a zoo animal, kept to a distant corner of the Citadel, nearby the tables where the mounts are kept. There are guards on patrol nearby, but Kenoma will be allowed to pass through, provided they don't do anything suspect.

There is nothing in way of comfort or adornment to its interior, just bars and a cold floor to pass out against. He lays still most of the time, nothing to devote his thoughts to, nowhere else to be. He almost looks forward to when one of his keepers return... anything for a moment of respite and meaning. It's possible that the one visiting him now has been given permission to unlock him for some purpose. He is unlikely to complain.

[OOC: Estinien has been 'trained' to go along with whatever the Kenoma subject him to (besides outright killing him) and he can be freely taken anywhere in the Citadel. For the most part he's been wandering around common areas. I've been told that Kenoma won't get in trouble for interacting with him/feeding him/dressing him as long as they aren't excessively compassionate about it. The Kenoma can also specifically request his use for whatever tasks they might need done, though he will be incompetent at anything that isn't straightforward.

To clarify what "excessively compassionate" means: it's really just not doing stuff that portrays what the Regent did to him as wrong or acting like he deserves better. Part of the humiliation is him having to rely on what Kenoma give him, so they may deign to help him, it would just be bad look to do it from a place of moral objection that would undermine the Regent's decisions.]

Comments

[coerthantorment]

No one had told him that, as it turns out.

The name is strange to hear. Something like that should be so familiar and natural that it seems mundane, but to him, it's more like a subtle itch that he can't quite figure out how to soothe. He falls quiet after it's spoken, trying desperately to find something with its sound. Estinien. The person he had once been.

It's apt to say that it doesn't seem to suit him now, at least. At the very least, it feels forbidden, like associating too closely with it would draw him closer to being that thing that the people here despised. The thing that destroyed itself, leaving him in this state, broken and alone. He hates that part of himself, on some level. 'Estinien' is the one responsible for the suffering he lives with now.

Howl cares for him, though. Or he did. This is an idea that he is both frightened and enticed by - there is a glint of fascination and desire in his otherwise dead eyes. To have someone care about him like a person, for them to care that he was like this now...

He feels like he has to back away from that thought before it gets too intense. After all, he gave up his right to that sort of thing when he became the creature he is now. It will only get him in trouble. If he breaks the pact he has with the Regent he has nothing...

"They didn't..." he says. He didn't have a name anymore, and anything other people called him didn't stick with him internally. "I'm not called anything..."

None of it was actually his. Not even 'Estinien'.

[galdorleod]

"That won't do," Howl says quietly. "I still need something to call you. The new, ruined you."

Keeping his eyes closed, Howl pauses to think. It really seems that the old Estinien is... gone. Sure, this person in the cage has his Shard, but — it's so damaged, does he really? Can he still be called the same person? Too many planks in this ship have been burnt away and replaced to still call it the same ship. Or at least that's how it seems at the moment.

Howl considers for a moment whether he ought to bestow a new name on him. Immediately, that doesn't feel right either. It's not like he would describe their relationship as "close," even if the broken man managed to make Howl admit to himself that he cared about him once. Howl feels that he has no special right to give Estinien a new name, not more or less than anyone else. And besides... if the dullard starts going around telling people he has a new name, questions will inevitably arise, and it will lead back to Howl. That can't happen.

"You'll have to give yourself a new name then. If anyone asks, tell them it's for the purpose of serving them better," Howl decides. He opens his eyes and, leaning against the bars, sinks down against them until he's sitting on the ground. His long shroud pools in his lap and splays out around him. "I'll help you think of one. How are you feeling right now, in this moment? What thoughts come to mind?"

[coerthantorment]

Slowly, the pressure in his head is building. It may seem like something simple and foundational to Howl, but the idea of claiming a new name, of trying to be anything beyond the outline left by absence... it's maddening to think about. Not just because he's been trained to think of himself as less than that, but also because it feels like the sort of defiance will only result in being hurt more.

He wants to be better. He wants to have purpose, and he wishes he could be accepted as part of the Kenoma's purpose, but he can't. He can't have any of those things. Why doesn't Howl understand?

"I can't," he says, and it serves as an answer to the question as well. His eyes have widened, desperation deep within them, and his shard clutched protectively to his chest. His voice shakes with tension.

"I can't have that. I'm not..."

He can only think of the pain, of how alone and how defenseless he'd been. He'd been reduced to a lifeform that was nothing but suffering, and even the ability to breathe, to move, is a gift that he's terrified to take for granted.

"Please... Don't make them send me back. Please..."

He'd thought he was below begging, but apparently not.

[galdorleod]

What a simple thing to send Estinien into an anxious fit. If Howl knew this topic would cause him so much distress, he wouldn't have brought it up. Unlike so many others, he isn't here to inflict even more misery on him. At his most selfish, he's here to satisfy his own emotional needs. At his kindest...

"I won't, I won't," he quickly says, chasing after Estinien's sudden panic with reassurance. "I'm not going to force you. Relax. If you don't want a name, then don't have one."

As he looks at the other man through the bars, he tries to calm the agitation that arose in his own chest. That was too much, it seems. He should leave. There's no point in pushing him further.

But... this isn't over. Howl isn't going to ignore him around the Citadel after tonight. He helped Barnaby readjust following his punishment, and he'll do the same for Estinien, in whatever capacity he's allowed to do.

Howl leans against the bars and continues to watch, waiting to see if Estinien will calm down on his own. The owl in the distance hoots woefully.

[coerthantorment]

His breath does begin to slow as Howl says that, though his eyes remain wide and startled, as if he himself doesn't fully comprehend the nature of his explosive reaction. Trauma would be the simple answer. Yet, he has been left ignorant enough by his circumstances that he has no grasp on that sort of thing.

He wished he could have a name. That he could earn it somehow in a way that the Regent would approve of. Maybe they'd even name him themself. As it is, choosing a name for himself would be treasonous. Trying to use his old name might be even worse.

As his panic fades his expression becomes more lost than terrified. He looks around the interior of his cage like he's seeing it for the first time, as if recognizing it for what it is with fresh eyes. He's trapped here. Trapped in so many ways.

Howl's reassuring tone is enough to draw him in, in the end. Even though the burst of panic is diminishing, sorrow has arrived to take its place. Part of him considers escaping to a back corner of the cage and curling up, trying to pretend like Howl was never here. The other side, though...

He slinks towards the bars where Howls rests, leaning against them from the other side, his arms curled around his knees. It isn't quite true contact with another person, but... Howl's claim to have cared for him once makes him brave enough to reach for this smallest shred of comfort.

[galdorleod]

At first, it seems the shift to quiet observation will reward them both. He can see the surge in fear start to leave Estinien, in both his expression and his body. While the continued existence of his Shard does indeed prove that he's still an Aion, it seems the definition of an Aion is much more flexible than Howl would have ever thought. They were told they were akin to demigods, by virtue of being born into this world with Shards, but... who would plausibly describe the soft-spoken, childlike simulacrum within the cage a "demigod"? Maybe he once was, but not anymore. The term is wholly inapplicable.

But the silence does more than calm him. To Howl's surprise, Estinien seems to look distinctly sorrowful for the first time — aware of his own sorrow, in a more active and conscious way than before. And then, before Howl can decide whether asking him for his thoughts will be worth either his time or Estinien's, he... moves. Now, they're practically leaning against each other, with only a few metal bars separating them. Howl can hear him breathing, smell the oils from his last bath on his skin, and even feel his body heat radiating out into the cool night air.

Howl says nothing. He stares at the large man on the other side of the bars, astonished. Is he this desperate for connection? To have his own humanity acknowledged? His body language suggests that he's trying to make himself look small, huddling so tightly inward, avoiding eye contact like a scared dog. But he would not have moved close to Howl if he wanted to be ignored.

And... Howl would not have come out here if he wanted to remain unknown to him, either.

Without making a sound, Howl turns his head, looking away at the same time he rests the side of his head against the bar, opposite to Estinien's. If he wants him to stay and sit with him, then he'll stay. He'll sit here all night if he wants. If it means he gets a chance at a full night's rest. There is certainly no shortage in thoughts swarming in Howl's head.