UPTOWN | AFTER DARK
Rhys-fucking-Valentin.
Benjamin would know the bastard from anywhere, they’d schooled together and they’d graduated together, and he’d hated him the whole damn time. The tall farmers sprog with his filthy piercings and devil-may-care attitude had stolen everything from the violinist. He’d stolen Charity’s heart, and then had ruined it for everyone else when Damen had decided he would be in control of his daughters suitors. Then of course he’d gone and made himself some special la-te-dah Sergeant or something. Youngest in Numbrey or some garbage. Oh the special Mister Valentin. The shit-shoveler-come-Seventen. It didn’t stop there though, no. Hero of the Day swooping in to save the pianist, stealing her away yet again! Not just from himself this time, but also from Damen and the circle. It had been so satisfying to break his arm, so wonderful to hear him scream in pain. Ben had thought about it over and over, finding sick pleasure in the memories, planning his next move. It hadn’t really been a surprise when they’d found out that Rhys and Charity had abandoned the apartment above the noodle house, but there where abouts were unknown at present. Diaxio had promised Damen all she needed was time, and she would find them. Benjamin had all the time in the world. So he’d been waiting. Remembering. And waiting.
The yelling dissolved into laughter, and the galdor flexed his field. He was in agony, and he couldn’t cast, but fuck Rhys Valentin and his goon. Rage and something dangerous simmered in the taller blonde’s field, but Benjamin didn’t care, it only served to fuel his laughter because he knew now what was happening. All the broken knee’s and ankles were worth it, because Rhys Valentin had finally lost. Ben had dug in deep where it hurt, where it really really hit home, and for once it wasn’t the Hero’s turn. For once, Ben had been the winner. He’d nearly had something that the ersehole thought only belonged to him, had nearly delved into that which Rhys seemed to hold so dear. He’d tainted the Seventen’s belongings like a banderwolf marking its territory.
How terribly funny.
As the carriage rolled to a stop, Benjamin’s chuckles turned into groans as he was shoved out of the door, yelping as he hit the cold stones and biting down on the gag. Barely given time to blink away the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him at the pain in his shattered bones, the galdor cried out in protest as his shoulder sockets over stretched and nearly popped. Struggling to support himself on one foot, the auburn man was dragged and thrown again with contempt to the floor. He was manhandled to sitting up, bones crunching together and bile rising again. The smell of his own bodily fluids was a rank reminder of what little he would be able to do against the tide, and clenching his hands Benjamin fought back the nausea as the bag was removed from his head. Blinking rapidly, he focused on the figures before him. Two men. One was Rhys’ it was clear from his field, the other however was an unknown. Human maybe, lacking a field. His eyes watched with helpless frustration as the expensive violin was thrown to the floor within its case, a pain of a different sort welling in the man. The instrument was his livelyhood, and had cost a good few concords. His eyes followed the masked man with a glare as they moved to drag the large heavy door of the warehouse closed, before turning back to Rhys. He watched as the taller man removed the mask, almost with a reverent sort of slowness, breathing heavily behind his gag and shaking his head. As the other man spoke, Ben watched the still masked figure move to his violin, unclasping the latches. He yelled something, pointless behind the fabric, watching as clumsy hands lifted his beautiful string instrument and pulled the bow across it.
Alioe have mercy, that was horrible.
Snapping back to Rhys, the red head bend his good leg, trying to move back as the other spoke of showing him everything that had transpired since the beating. Monite wove through the air, mona drawing in and contained by a prodigum created carefully for this moment. Planned just for this. Benjamin began to roll, freezing in place as the spell caught him in place, paralyzed by magic. His eyes glazed over as though his brain had turned off, but he was there. Stuck inside the prison of Rhys’ shared connection.
Murky green eyes widened, and welled with tears as Gale played the death throws of his violin’s last sonnet, and it was almost all that anyone would see of the agony that was playing out within him. His breathing was broken, catching and huffing, wheezing and fast. Sweat beaded on his skin and his nostrils flared. His field shattered over and over, broken and pulsing in mindless pain. Gurgling sounds escaped his throat finally, tendons tense as Rhys remembered cracking ribs and slowly bending bones. The galdor’s gaze wavered, and his field felt loose. Consciousness was only a threadbare thing slipping from his grasp.
At least unconscious he wouldn’t be able to feel anymore.