“Pain? That is ‘batha’, yes?” Anisse guided the ritual blade down the wound, reopening it slowly. She watched as the back that wore the wound shivered under the pain, and the anticipation of the pain to come, for there were nine more scabbed gashes to be reopened.
‘B--baothah!…’ the elf stabbed into her mind, unable to speak the words. The accent, even in Anisse’s mind, was perfect. She gasped out as the blade cut down the low end of her back, widening the gash. Anisse smiled behind her “student”, and brushed the moist tendrils of hair at the back of the girl’s neck. She was drenched in her own sweat.
“You are taking this better than I thought you would. You’ve not screamed yet.” Anisse’s voice was soft, perhaps the closest to understanding and compassion she might come. The lesson between instructor and student, or torturer and tortured, was a bond. Still, she was unmerciful with the enactment. The dagger started again at the top of the next scabbed gash, giving the elf no time to prepare. This time the girl writhed, sobbing aloud, feeling the searing pain of the blade cut once again into her skin. It hurt the most when the blade tore against fresher skin next to the scabbed wound, Anna knew.
She knew because she’d endured this herself once before. And such a lesson could not be easily forgotten.
“Focus.” The urge in her words now was as sharp as the ritual blade she wielded, which now dragged down to the middle of her back. “’Baothah’--pain. And Goodbye? Or Farewell?”
‘Sh….shor-r-r-rel’aran,’ Rain stretched out the translation more than she had meant to, hissing out the words into Anisse’s mind as the cursed blade tore through fresh skin.
“Shore. Shorel? Shorelran?” Anisse repeated with all the calm of a priest at night mass. She sighed as she started at the tip of the third gash. “You are not focusing. That is the reason why you feel the pain so readily. How will you expect to defend yourself if you double-over at the edge of a dagger? There are worse pains, Rain, and you must be ready to feel them, ready to numb yourself to an infliction.” The elf girl only seemed to sob louder as the mess upon her back only grew bloodier. It was only the second day of Rain’s lesson, Anisse thought to herself. Perhaps she was being too impatient, when there was still the rest of the week to see how this one would progress.
Watching this girl writhe and shudder into sobs, however, Anisse drew in breath, quieting the urge to drive the blade into Rain’s back, and have at the heart on the other side. It would be easy, as she preferred her victims to be, and within the seclusion of the sound-warded parlor, there was no better place for such a kill. But…this was an agreement, and if Anisse did not honor such a word, what would that make her? Would she not herself be acting upon her own base instincts, her own desires, as she condemned the Captain’s loose ways for, or this girl’s desperate hunger for affection? There was room for improvement here.
And who was she to deny Rain’s chance for betterment?
Her jar could go empty for a few more days, Anna told herself. The lady mage and the scraggly farmer of Westfall fell, both wasted kills, unable to get what she had wanted. Just a few more days. She could find a new scalpel, easy as pie. No one could stop her collection if she was careful. Even if one was indeed, watching. Was someone watching…? She questioned it now. Surely the impending attacks upon the city by her former brethren had the power to compel even the most astute mind from her doings. Yes, there were more pressing matters, weren’t there? Perhaps, even, there were more choice stalking grounds outside of Elwynn Forest?
An unseen heart beat out there somewhere, just waiting to be collected.
‘Is it ov…over yet..?’ Anisse could hear the girl’s voiceless whisper offer itself to her, breaking her own train of thought. The ninth gash was cut open, and by now the elf was ready to fall over onto the carpet. The manacles shook with her shuddering, and they were tight--even subconsciously, Rain was trying to physically escape the pain, instead of using her mind as its own escape.
“It will not be over, Rain. “ She leaned in toward one of the elf’s long, slender ears, whispering. “It will never be over, until you let it be.”
The blade was drug down the final gash, and Anisse was rewarded with silence, no whimper made. Disappointment settled in when she realized the girl was only silent because she had blacked out from the pain.
No matter. The girl would come to crave the pain come the end of the week.
Standing over Rain, the saucer of water Anisse had filled was pushed gently toward the unconscious girl, just within reach of her while she was restrained. It was important for her to receive no luxury, as Anisse remembered thoroughly on her own harrowing lesson taught by the Twilights years ago. She would still need to survive, however, and water was a basic necessity for all creatures to live on. Though a week of this rigorous training was hardly comparable to the month’s worth of lessons she herself remembered so clearly, the week would serve to impact the girl in the way she wished. In a way, Anna was giving over a precious piece of knowledge in undertaking this instruction, and it felt good to finally share a part of herself that did not concern meatpies. She hoped too that the Captain learned from her example as well, those weeks ago. When the heart is weak, the mind cannot grow.
She’d nearly made it to the top of the winding ramp of the Lamb, before realizing she was there and that Jarel was speaking to her.
“Spending more time than usual down there, girl. Go on, get some sunshine, eh?” The bartender was stacking mugs up into pyramids out of sheer boredom. It seemed his customers all had somewhere else to be tonight. To say that might have something to do with a rather large dragon landing atop Stormwind would be an understatement. Somewhere in the depths of her heart, Anisse felt a dark pride, knowing that her people were responsible for the drake’s appearance.
“I think I might just do that.” Anisse stared on into the exit of the Lamb, feeling a few strands of hair brush her face, loose. Tightening the long black ribbon that now held her hair in place, she started outside, ready to see more of the chaos outside of the city gates.
The farmer’s ribbon was far more comfortable than a simple rubber band.
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