[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

[semicharmed]

Those three small words stop Matt mid-gesture. He doesn't even breathe.

The thing is, while he believes in his goal, he doesn't feel like someone that anybody would be lucky to have around. Certainly he wasn't lucky for Flora. Or for Majorita, or Silco, or any of the allies his feckless intuitions have endangered. For the boy he and Paul were going to arrest before Estinien swooped in. There's also the fact--one Estinien has no way of knowing, but which Matt can't ignore--that he and Katy-Rose weren't exactly on speaking terms when the world ended. They weren't on non-speaking terms, they just ... didn't have much to say to each other anymore.

"Hm. Well." A soft huff, as his fingers start to move again. "She didn't think so."

Matt reaches for a stray strand of Estinien's hair, fishing it out from beneath the muzzle's strap. His fingers brush the tip of a pointed ear as he brings it into the braid.

"But you know, that's okay. It's all in the past."

[coerthantorment]

It's hard for him to relate to the emotions Matt alludes to. He doesn't have anyone, after all. It's hard to imagine people like Matt and the other Kenoma being unwanted or alone. Not with the power they wield. Not with how important they are to the future.

Meanwhile, Matt's fingers brush against his ear, causing it to twitch ever so slightly.

It's all in the past.

He wishes the past was something he could move on from, like Matt suggests. Instead, the past will burden him forever, every aspect of him changed irrevocably my mistakes that were already so far out of reach.

Could Matt truly be free of his own burdens?

"It doesn't hurt you?"

[semicharmed]

Matt's eyes catch on the twitch of Estinien's ear. It's a surprising movement to him, coming from a world where most people's ears are decidedly smaller and rounder. Like most traits that make people unique, he finds it quietly fascinating.

He turns his focus back to his task.

"It hurts," he says, after a moment. "But pain isn't necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I don't want there to be any more of it in the universe than there has to be. But in its place, pain is ... information. It gives us signals about things that are important."

This braid is shaping up nicely. He just needs something to tie it off with. Matt fishes into his pocket, coming up with a twist of string, and uses a moment's focused meditation to make the string twirl itself around the base of the braid. He ties it into a slightly lopsided bow.

[coerthantorment]

He can't see Matt's work, but he can feel it. It's nice not to have his long hair clinging all over his body, especially when it's wet. It's much fancier than something he could have done for himself.

He listens to what Matt says intently, having found his manner trustworthy. It almost feels... conversational. Friendly, like talking to someone you have an amicable relationship. He shifts his legs in the water, stretching out his knees and toes.

"What do you think is important...?" he asks. It's a fairly open-ended question. Maybe he just wants to listen to Matt talk to him some more, the subject matter less important than the gentle, peaceful tone.

[semicharmed]

Matt's not sure what to do with his fingers anymore, with nothing to officially occupy them. He fusses a moment with Estinien's braid, tucking a wayward strand more securely, but then he sits back. Lets his hand drop to his side.

"Oh ... a lot of things," he sighs, smiling faintly. As he predicted, his pant legs are wet by now, but Matt doesn't mind. If anything, he half wants to get into the bath himself, since Estinien seems to be enjoying it so much. "Almost anything, depending on the situation. Which isn't really an answer."

Matt reaches towards the water, doodling absent sigils in its surface.

"I think love is important," he says. "Not just affection, or intimacy--those are pieces of love, but not the whole. Love is like ... gravity. And breath. It's like these components of being, the things that make us what we are, and when they're working right everything just ... sings."

He flicks his fingers into the invisible symbol he's just drawn. Bathwater splashes in a small spatter.

Rueful: "I'm sure that doesn't make any sense. But like, if you hurt because of love, it might be because you love someone and they don't feel the same way. Or if I feel like ... nothing sings right in the world anymore, and it hasn't for a long time, then I'm not hurting because love doesn't matter to me. It's because it matters a lot. And it's important for me to remember that."