deercountry | [closed]

[ Yuri wakes up groggy and confused, his arms aching from where they're pulled over his head, cuffs digging into his wrists. This feels all to familiar, in a way he doesn't like. It wasn't so long ago that he woke up tied up and jailed on a ship. At least right now it doesn't feel like the floor is moving, but that doesn't actually make him feel any better, because he can hear what sound like gears and mechanisms, and that can't be good. How many times will he find himself behind bars? He hoped no more, but he doesn't get what he wants, does he?

The last thing he remembers is going to sleep with Flynn after some stupid argument about nothing. He's felt something weighing on him, a lot like he felt after Flynn died. Things should be better, Flynn is alive, they have a home, they have a quiet life with Blue, he has a job he actually mostly likes. He should feel better, but he's felt worse and worse since the month turned over, and now here he is, strung up in some unknown place.

He tries to pull on the chain pulling his arms overhead, but it barely budges. At least his feet touches the floor, and he can stand up, taking the strain off his arm. As he does, he sees someone else in this cell with him. ]

Flynn?!

[ Yuri doesn't have a sense of how long it's been since Flynn was ferried out of this awful place by... whatever that was. He's not angry about it. He's glad Flynn is safe. He hopes Flynn is safe. That's one of the only things he's letting himself focus on. Flynn, safe, is what he thinks when he wakes up from his woozy, half-dreaming state, where most of the dreams are nightmares, nightmares of those terrible people, coming to check on his blood, it's always the damn blood in this place; of his guild, his friends, of losing them, like he almost did in the frosts, of losing Estelle to Alexei, again; of losing Flynn, of Flynn turning away from him like he almost did, in Mantaic.

The dreams, as awful as they are, might be better than his reality. He can't move, body prone, shackled to a table, his blood being taken, slowly, slow enough that he figures they intend to keep him alive for a while, long enough to get as much as they can from him. He hasn't eaten in days, even though they give him water every once in a while. He tries to fight back, every time those guys come by to check on him, but he can't do anything but cuss them out, his wrists, neck, waist, and ankles raw from pulling at the restraints. ]

You wouldn't last five minutes in a fight! Come on, face me.

[ Yuri snaps at one of them, his voice hoarse, throat aching. The zealot doesn't seem to notice or care, carefully collecting his frozen blood from the table. It barely even flows, leaves him in icicles that build up out of the shallow cuts carved into his arms, his stomach, his thighs. He thought he was cold with his blood in his body, but with it dripping down the table, he doesn't think he's ever been this cold in his whole life.

He lets out a frustrated scream, mostly for himself, because he hates being helpless more than he hates almost anything else in the world. ]

You're awake.

[ Flynn sounds like shit.

Flynn also looks like shit, strung up the same way Yuri is with his arms high above his head and his feet barely skimming the oily floor.

He hasn't been awake for much longer than Yuri has: only a few awful minutes full of fear and useless struggling and trying desperately to figure out how to get out of these chains. His shoulders scream at him for any kind of relief, but Flynn's barely been able to get low enough to stand up. He's pressed his foot into the wall behind him and shoved his toes (bare) into the ground.

It hurts, but Flynn has been focused on Yuri's limp, awful form, watching him closely to make sure he's breathing. It's the only thing that's kept him from outright panicking: watching the rise and fall of his chest, making sure he's actually alive. If he's alive, they can get out of this, no matter that Flynn has no idea how they got into this in the first place.

He sucks in a slow, careful breath, pushing at the wall with a contained wince so he can properly face Yuri. ]

Are you hurt, besides the obvious? Do you remember anything?

Geez, give me a minute.

[ Yuri pushes off the ground, shifting from foot to foot to try and get some feeling back into his body. His mind is kicking into gear: they aren't in a great situation, but they are together, even if they're tied up together. It seems like every time he pulls on his chains, he rattles Flynn's. Looking up, which makes his neck ache and his head rush, he squints at the ceiling. Yep. Their chains are the same chains, run through a ring in the ceiling. ]

Yeah, I'm-- fine. Are you?

[ He glances back at Flynn, taking in exactly how bad he looks, and Yuri feels worse for it. Did he do this, somehow? He feels a twinge of guilt that he couldn't stop this from happening to Flynn. Flynn in chains is wrong. The only other time he's seen Flynn locked up, he took his place because Flynn deserves to be free. Now, he can't do that, but he can help get them both out. ]

I remember going to sleep. Nothing after that.

Sorry. I—

[ A little flame of hope that Flynn hadn't realized he was holding onto—that Yuri might know a way out of this, that he might know why they're here—sputters at those words. Flynn's face sets, a calm, blank mask that helpfully hides how much it hurts just to be yanked up a little bit by Yuri's movement. What a cruel thing to bind them together like this. Flynn can't even feel his fingers. Or his toes, or really much else except the dull, constant throb of pain.

Flynn swallows around another stomach-churning rush of fear, trying to shove it aside. Being afraid won't help him right now. It never has in a time like this: he has to get free, and he has to get Yuri free, and then they have to get out of here. That's what matters here. ]

If I am hurt, I can't feel it anymore. I don't believe I am, and I don't remember coming here either. We've... been alone since I woke up.

[ Was that five minutes ago? Half an hour? Flynn isn't even sure: time is a woozy, hazy thing in here. Every time he looks at Yuri, his heart clenches. ]

Unfortunately, I... can't seem to cast any artes. Or do much of anything.

[ Yuri looks back up at the chains, and tries to summon his new power. It doesn't seem to want to wake up, responds as sluggishly as the rest of his body. He growls, annoyed at it. If he has to put up with his blood changing, the least it could do is work. ]

Damn. Magic isn't working either. I could freeze it or melt it, but--

[ But he can't just leave them dangling here. If Karol was here, he might be able to pick the locks, undo the shackles. He wrinkles his nose, trying to think. ]

Karol taught me this thing...

[ That hurts like a bitch, but he doesn't want to dangle here for much longer. He doesn't have much feeling in his arms, and Flynn looks miserable, and he has no idea who put them in here, and that scares him more than the rest of this put together.

He grits his teeth. Well... it's worth a shot. ]

Give me a little slack?

[ Fixing the problem is much easier than dealing with anything else that's going on right now. He can focus on that and not on the fear rising in his chest. He can't lose Flynn again. He can't. ]

What are you planning to do?

[ Flynn asks, already moving to give him exactly that. If Yuri has a plan, far be it from Flynn to stop him following through on it, no matter how few bare inches he can provide to Yuri. Gritting his teeth, he stretches his numb arms up as hard as he can get them, then shoves his foot into the wall again for that extra centimeter of leverage. There's no time for worrying and thinking right now: they need to act. Pain throbs through him and Flynn's nostrils flare as he sucks in a hard breath, pushing through it. He can do this. He stretches up a little higher, hears a tiny metallic clink of shifting chain. ]

Pull on them, I think you should have more now—

[ Flynn will probably tell him not to, if he tells him what he's going to do, so he doesn't. Instead, he uses the slack to pull his left hand further through one of the shackles, too tight to get his knuckles through, but...

He takes a breath, steeling himself, positions his thumb in the right place, and yanks.

Pain sears through him, but his hand slips through, his thumb dangling limp of his hand. He grits his teeth tight against a curse, keeping the pain inside as much as he can.

Before Flynn pulls the chains down again, he uses his right hand to re-set his thumb, which hurts almost as much as dislocating it. ]

Fuck.

[ But, his hand is free, and he can feel his power slowly coming back to him. He can probably melt the lock with enough concentration. ]

[ Flynn knows, based on the silence, that he is going to hate it, but he's too focused on the stretch and burn of his muscles to protest about it. He has to breathe through the pain, and so he doesn't tell Yuri not to do something reckless until the crack of his bone is echoing off the walls. ]

Yuri!

[ Flynn hisses more than shouts his name, his voice full of pain but likely so much less than Yuri, who just, as far as Flynn can tell, broke his thumb. ]

I'm fine.

[ It still hurts, but the pain is ebbing. He cradles his hand close for a second. One arm in the air is decidedly less uncomfortable, and now he just has to figure out the rest of his plan. If his power comes back to him, he can do it, but it's still sitting in low levels inside him, enough to light a match, maybe, but not enough to do much more

Except

He glances at Flynn. He's really going to hate this, is the thing. He's going to hate it, but Yuri can't think of anything else that might help. ]

One down.

[ He smiles, just a hint of a smile, and reaches up again, finding the jagged edge of the shackle and pressing his thumb to it hard enough for the skin to break ]

Don't do anything you'll regret.

[ It is half an order and half a plea; Flynn can't summon up the energy for polish and precision right now. He's all raw edges, anger and helplessness bubbling together acrid inside him. I'm fine means nothing coming from Yuri but it's not like Flynn can really protest: he doesn't have an alternative plan, and just because he can't heal now—

Yuri presses, and blood flows and crystallizes, and Flynn makes himself watch, pushes up a little more to give Yuri as much slack and room to work as possible. He can do that much. ]

[ The only thing Yuri would regret is leaving Flynn in chains. If it were just himself, he might not do this, might see what happens, but he can't take that risk with Flynn.

He lets his blood pour into the lock on the shackle around his right wrist. With the added blood, he can push more of his power into it, making the ice expand and break the lock like Diluc taught him all those months ago.

The mechanism snaps and Yuri drops down, his legs weak without the chain to keep him up. It also means that Flynn has all the slack now to drop to the floor, too, no longer held up ]

[ Bare moments after Flynn is swept away, and Yuri is left in this stark, awful place, two of those strange people in culty robes come upon him. He has some of his power back, but no sword, no axe, no nothing. He feels naked without it, without armor or the leather glove he wears around his hand.

He looks at them, coming too close for comfort, throws a punch at one of them, a kick at the other, then books it. The kick, at least, connects, and the guy tries to grab Yuri's leg, but he shakes his off as he runs down the hall.

He has no plan, no plan at all except to get away from these guys for long enough to make a plan. Except, he's tired and fear is curling in his gut and Flynn is gone and he's alone, and those culty guys are running after him.

Sure would be nice if someone came upon him at this very moment to help. ]

[This is Kaeya's second trip through this horror show, and it's no better the second go around at all. This time he's at least onto the way this place works. He managed to break out of the holding cell he found himself in and has even armed himself at this point in time -- after a fashion. He's found himself a helmet and a pair of boots and most importantly, a rather formidable looking wrench.

It's the sound of a scream that draws him towards Yuri. He peers around the corner and sees his friend strapped to a table. His attention shifts to focus on the zealot currently leaning over Yuri.

Well, this needs to stop.

He's quiet and quick as he moves, and the zealot only turns in time to catch the flash of metal before Kaeya brings the wrench down hard against his head, hard enough to floor him. Probably not hard enough to kill him, but Kaeya wouldn't shed a tear if it did.]

Yuri. [A hushed urgent whisper.] You alive?

[Sadly for Yuri, the person who rounds the corner down the end of the hallway is disheveled, bloody, and most importantly, takes all of two seconds to process the situation before abruptly retreating back around the corner.

Your zealots, your problem.]

...

[Alright, fine. While Yuri might feel the faint sting of abandonment, Lysithea is actually crouched against the wall taking deep breaths and holding her hands out in front of her, willing the magic to her fingertips. Her powers were weakened in this place, though the longer she stays, the more she feels her strength returning. She doesn't care to ruminate upon what that might mean.]

Dark Spikes.

[Intoning almost emotionlessly, she steps back around and - with a sharp hand motion - a series of razor sharp spears erupt from the ground behind Yuri, impeding the path of the cultists.]

Hurry. The magic won't last long.

Yuri!

[ Flynn collapses like a puppet with its strings cut: all at once, limbs folding in on themselves as chains whip, rattling, up against the ceiling, crash into the stone, and then fall down through the loop on top of him. He barely manages to shove his elbow and a knee into the greasy stone floor to get out of the way of the mess, and they still slap him as they fall, making him wince.

But it doesn't matter. Yuri is bleeding, collapsed first, and Flynn has to get to him. He pushes himself up, still attached to the chains, and half-crawls over to him with worry like coals in his belly. ]

[ Yuri's knees are probably bruised, but at least he isn't chained up before. Even all the times he's been in prison, being shackled isn't familiar. He really hates it, hates not being able to use his hands. Being locked up, sure, but that?

He pushes himself up, moving toward Flynn, and catching his hands as he moves ]

Hey, hey. I'm fine. Worry about yourself. We need to get you out of these.

[ He doesn't let himself think about that fear in Flynn's voice, the concern toward Yuri, always the concern that Yuri doesn't want, that he wonders if it's gotten worse since they started... whatever they're doing.

The blood frosted over on his thumb, and he brushes the frost away, letting the blood flow again, pressing it into the locks on each of Flynn's wrists. He waits, holding Flynn's hands in his, until the mechanisms crack, and the shackles are loose enough to fall off Flynn's wrists.

He glances up at Flynn's face, then, with a little grin. ]

Not so bad. Wanna get the hell out of here?

Immediately.

[ Flynn wants Yuri not to be bleeding everywhere. He wants Yuri to stop using his blood like a tool except it's the only tool they have, so he can't complain about it. He needs to buck up and get his knees under him and think and not rely on Yuri and his ice-blood to get them out.

Yuri grinning defiantly at him like that both steels his resolve and lights something inside him. Nodding, Flynn pushes himself to his knees, making small circles with his wrists to restore blood to his numb fingers. The floor is cold and hard, and around them distant machinery creaks. ]

This reminds me of Ghasfarost. That can't mean anything good, especially if neither of us know how we got here.

[ There is still the matter of the stall door to deal with, too. Flynn twists around as the tips of his fingers tingle, rolling his shoulders as he does, to look at the door. ]

How are you feeling, Yuri? I don't want to use your blood any more than we have to.

[ Flynn saying that irks him, but it isn't really the time to get pissed off about something like Flynn ordering him around. Except ]

It's my own damn blood.

[ So he'll do what he wants with it.

But Flynn's not wrong. Yuri pushes himself up and holds out a hand for Flynn to heft him up off the ground. ]

Pretty sure I have to use it again unless you learned to pick locks.

[ Which he would never do. Because he's Flynn, and Flynn follows the rules, and locks aren't meant to be picked. ]

[ Yuri tenses at the sound of another person, but the flash of blue puts him at ease. Thank the Goddess, it's someone he can rely on.

The zealot goes down and Yuri lets out a breath. They haven't bee torturing him, exactly, at least not actively, but being tied down and bled every day isn't exactly his idea of fun. ]

For now. Think you can get me outta these?

[ He strains his wrists against the restraints, then falls back to the table with a grunt. He's so fucking tired, but having Kaeya here gives him another burst of energy, a burst of adrenalin because maybe, together, they can do this ]

[ Honestly? He doesn't blame her. She should look out for herself first. There's no reason to put herself in danger for him.

He misses a step when the spikes lurch out of the ground, but catches him, looking back at the zealots, now further behind him, with wide eyes.

He skids around the corner to find her, dropping down next to her. ]

Shit. Nice move. I'd probably be cult bait if you hadn't stopped 'em.

[ He looks around, trying desperately to see where to go, but it all looks the same. ]

C'mon. This way.

[ Working together is better than not, even if he doesn't have much to offer right now without a weapon in his hand. ]

[ Flynn doesn't dignify that with anything except a pointed look. Yuri knows damn good and well that Flynn can't pick locks, which means that once again Flynn has to rely on Yuri doing the thing that hurts him to get them out of something dire.

He is so tired of not being good enough to save them both on his own.

But dwelling won't get them out of here and it won't stop Yuri having to literally give up his own blood to do it. Flynn rests his aching fingers in Yuri's palm and lets himself, in a moment of weakness, just squeeze his hand, feeling the reassuring solid coolness of his fingers.

Then he realizes that probably hurts and takes his weight off it entirely, pushing himself up on shaky feet, swaying close to Yuri. Flynn wants to hug him, wants to press his face into Yuri's throat and tell him to please just let Flynn help, somehow, but there is nothing he can do and the knowledge is acid in his lungs. ]

Let's see what we're up against first.

[ Yuri lets him pull away, even if he can read some of what's going on in Flynn's head when he does. He knows Flynn is annoyed at himself, he can see it in his face. ]

Looks like a door.

[ With a lock. At least the ice trick works, or he has no idea how they would get out of here.

He picks the ice off his thumb again, crouching down by the door. At least he can't see anyone outside the bars. It's like they're alone here. As he presses more blood into the keyhole: ]

So, they lock us up here and leave us alone. Bets on why?

To disorient us.

[ The answer comes too quickly, and Flynn hates that, too. His voice goes dull as he falls in beside Yuri, pressed close enough to the door that he'll hopefully be able to hear if anyone is outside, likely to catch them mid-escape attempt. ]

Cumore used this technique often when he wanted something from a prisoner. I heard him speaking about it in Heliord once. It's likely we're being held for some greater reason.

[ Just hearing the name "Cumore" makes anger surge through his body, and he jams his thumb harder into the keyhole ]

Of fucking course he did. Fine, so they want something from us. Pretty sure we don't have anything valuable

[ On them or in their home. They don't even have information, unless someone's really interested in their home world, which he can't see why. No one has been.

His blood freezes in the lock, and a long moment later, the lock cracks open, and Yuri throws himself bodily at the door. It doesn't want to let go, but with some effort, it does. ]

Jokes on them.

[ Except. He has no idea where to go now. It's sterile and metal and Flynn's right, it reminds him a lot of Ghasfarost, which was a maze of its own with all those floors and stairs. ]

[closed]

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cw: dislocating digits

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lysithea

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