Yelena's Home

[Deiniol]

He wasn't used to being hit – Deiniol could count on one hand the number of times either of his parents had risen a hand against him, the Fey's always believing that tough love was the best and yet even then, they had never really hit him. He had always been the 'good boy' of the family and as such physical punishments tended to be inflicted on the more flighty, less religious members of his family. Yelena hitting him and then grabbing his face before he could even right himself or mentally recover from the sudden pain meant that she saw his unguarded reaction to the pain.

Perhaps it was a sign that he was soft, for his eyes to half fill with tears but what was relatively gentle for a vampire still hurt for a human and unlike his father who found all expressions of emotions as a sign of weakness, Deiniol had never quite learnt to hide his pain as well as he could, not when faced with something as unexpected as this.

The young Welshman thought it rather ridiculous to be getting a lecture on how to be polite from a vampire who had murdered about his only friend and then another person right in front of him but he wasn't about to voice that, deciding that once again, prudence would be the best cause. “I understand. Sorry Miss. Yelena,” he croaked out, hoping it would be enough.

[Yelena]

For a change the smile that Yelena wore was not a front of any kind, no deflection from actual thoughts or feelings. The smile was cruel and cold, it held a quiet kind of sadistic humour to it; as if she knew the punch line to some big joke Deiniol was oblivious to. She released his face after an extended pause where she simply stared down at him, relishing the obvious shock mingled roughly with the pain from her strike in his eyes. "We're going to have fun, you and I." she told him, the expression also indicative of how much she enjoyed the inducement of tears and even more so the 'Miss Yelena' mode of address once more.

When the icy tapers of her fingers had finally left his skin fully she lingered no more than a moment before moving away from the table next to which she had been standing. It was one of two down in the basement. The second was butted up against the wall behind the now empty chair that had held Thomas for the duration of his 'stay'.

On the surface of the table lay several leather cases and boxes of varying shapes and sizes; Yelena was nothing if not neat when it came to torture. She picked up a small black leather case, not unlike the size of a small journal or date book and she turned with it in her hands to look at her Welsh captive.

"I imagine, if you are as strict a Catholic as I suspect, you've had a fairly 'clean' life until now." She said as she walked towards him, the next questions clear even as once more the Russian lilt in her voice peeked through; "No smoking? No drinking?"

[Deiniol]

The moment Yelena turned away from him, Deiniol let out the breath he had been holding, a short and sharp breath that was probably still audible to the vampire. He had been worried for a moment that the 'Miss' had perhaps been too much – Deiniol knew how to say a title in any number of subtly different ways to give a wild variety of meanings. It was his way of rebelling and while the word this time hadn't had any deliberate undertones in it, he had still worried. Denny was a worrier. He bowed his head for a moment as he blinked away the tears, a cold fear growing in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the 'fun' she had planned.

Denny twisted his fingers together nervously and looked back up, eyes fixed on the small and innocent looking black item in her hands. Denny wished desperately his legs were free, no matter how pointless that would be. The woman in front of him was faster, stronger and clearly willing to hurt anyone she felt like. It was amazing how quickly he was accepting, in his own mind at least that he was actually in the same room as a monster like a vampire, a murderess...

“No... never,” he answered, dragging his sight away from whatever she had in her hands to look at her face, the dread growing in his stomach. Aside from communion of course, but the sacred wine did not count as 'drinking'.

[Yelena]

The 'Miss' was enough to seemingly placate the vampire away from her vicious temper, though it could be called into question whether that was a good thing. If she flew off into a wrath at least all she did was rage and curse and use her fists; her cold and sadistic logical thoughts were defunct at that time. Clear headed she could arguably be more dangerous. A fluidic motion of her free hand sent the tray with the plate and utensils skidding to the other end of the table where it stopped short with a corner poking over the edge. Perhaps a measure of just how much control Yelena was capable of excising over her strength or maybe her attention was simply so focussed on Deiniol now she hadn't cared how hard she shoved the flimsy kitchen objects. Her pale eyes were fixed on him harshly, the thoughts behind them hidden by her relaxed glower.

"I thought as much." She had started unzipping her little leather case with supple movements of her wrist, "Once upon a time, I would have answered the same way, but times change, Deiniol, times change and I have had a front row seat as to just how much."

The vampire shook her head slightly as she laid the open case on the table, her fingers splayed out around the edges to keep it flat, so that her captive could see just what was inside. A syringe with the cap still on; evidentially unused, a rubber tourniquet and several vials of clear liquid again with the seals still intact but the medical labels had been removed, replaced instead with a small white ones that had Cyrillic characters neatly written on them.

"Drugs get such a bad name here, but used in the correct way they can be incredible tools. They can induce pleasure, pain, wrath or tranquillity, even truth if you have the right concoction." She looked up from the array of implements at her disposal and a devious smile hitched at the corner of her lips, "This is something of a game though. It wouldn't be much fun if I chose which tool we were going to use today would it? No, no." She paused, "You pick the vial." It was a command, not a request and she stared at him, drawing her hands back to her hips in that default stance of apparent annoyance that she had developed over the long years of her 'life'.

[Deiniol]

A tiny part of Deiniol's mind picked up on the sentence about time, causing him to wonder just how old the woman in front of him was. His captor and he swallowed harshly at that thought, forcing back down the hysterical laughter that threatened to break out at the fact he was thinking about such things at a time like this. Denny sometimes wished he could turn his over analysing brain off.

His eyes widened at the sight in front of him, widening further still at the command he pick one out himself. Denny didn't think he could do that. To willingly submit to drugs was an affront to God and although Yelena scared him more than anything on this earth, God's wrath after this life scared him more – for the moment at least. Denny knew only too well his own limitations and that when it was the choice between slipping a little and being hurt... well, he didn't think he was that strong.

“You... you didn't use those on him...” Denny said at last, licking his lips slightly in a futile attempt to moist the suddenly dry area. The tone of the words revealed that it wasn't a question as such but confusion instead, the young man wondering what he had done to deserve drugs that Thomas hadn't. Unless of course she simply had more than one set but that still didn't explain what she was doing. To be honest, he had thought he would have been hurt worse by now from the bruises and wounds on the other man before she killed him.

[Yelena]

Her lips pursed slightly, eyes narrowed as if she was considering the ramifications of answering his 'question'; she didn't want him to think she could be so easily deflected from something that she wanted to do. Then again it wasn't as if she was working with any time constraints. The vampire was confident that the police, the joke that they were, would not be able to find her here, she and Deiniol had plenty of time together so indulging his confusion wouldn't be such a bad thing in the end.

"No," she said quietly, adjusting her weight slightly as her head tilted to watch her charge, "No, I didn't. Tommy was a bit of fun, someone to knock around. A piece of meat to tenderize if you like..." she smiled wickedly the simple last word of the sentence drawn out and languid as if she were remembering every single smack of her fists against Thomas. After a pause she reached out to brush Deiniol's cheek with a cold hand, "You my dear, you are different and I think you already know that. Unfortunately it doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you in the long run. It just means I'm going to be meticulous."

The malevolent smile she wore dropped slowly and she withdrew her hand, "Now pick one of the vials before I feel the need to demonstrate just how much damage I can do before you even start to bruise."

[Deiniol]

His hands continued to twist together, fingers squeezing one another in an obvious sign of nerves. But then, Deiniol was sure she would be able to pick up on any more subtle signs as well. He had flinched slightly at the touch on his cheek, resisting the urge to pull completely away but unable to stop his body reacting in slight disgust to the feel of dead fingers on his skin.

Yelena's words were not exactly comforting – not that they were supposed to – and try as Denny might, he couldn't deny that he had worked out he was somehow different in the vampire's mind. What was confusing him was why exactly. Denny had never been different before, not really. Had never stood out in a way to gain people attention except sometimes his accent since coming to America and Denny couldn't quite believe that his 'difference' was based sorely on the way he pronounced words.

He licked his lips again as she withdrew her hand, offering a silent prayer up in Welsh. He didn't want to pick a vial – and he doubted his self control was strong enough so he would simply sit there and let her inject him, no matter how pointless struggling would be – but Denny couldn't see any alternative. His hand was shaking madly as he slowly reached out, the labels making no sense before pointing to the one on the far right.

[Yelena]

On the white label of the bottle Deiniol had pointed out there was a rather long line of blocky Cyrillic characters. There was a silent moment as Yelena looked from the bottle to the Welshman and then her smile grew as her fingers came to run over the cold little vessel in its resting place, held into the case by a black elastic ring, "Very good choice, rebjonok," the Russian word tripped from her tongue smoothly without a pause to iterate the meaning to Deiniol.

Slowly, precisely she removed the tourniquet from the case and moved over to her captive. She reached for his arm, her eyes remaining locked with his as she began to roll the sleeve of his shirt up. He didn't know it but he had picked the 'pleasure' vessel and she was extremely pleased about that, because it meant that she got to have as much fun as he would. She didn't give him much room to resist her cold hands as she tied the off yellow tourniquet around his upper arm and made sure to keep the limb straight as she slapped the skin of his inner elbow lightly.

"I'd tell you what you went and chose for yourself, but that would take away the fun don't you think?" she cooed.

[Deiniol]

The use of the Russian word – he could only assume it was some kind of 'pet name', such as the English ones she had been using before – sent a chill up Denny's spine. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed more frightening when she used that instead, as if they had reached a point he didn't understand. His breathing became shallow and frantic as she moved towards him, fear evident in his gaze.

“Please...” he breathed, tears forming in his eyes, not even sure exactly what he was begging for. For her to stop, to let him go or at least tell him what she was injecting him with, although he didn't quite want to know. Ignorance wasn't bliss, far from it. Ignorance was taunting and burnt inside. Still, he didn't want to know what she was doing to him because he didn't want to know what he had allowed – in a way – to be done to himself. He should have been stronger, something that was easy to tell himself as he futilely wiggled under her hold, unable to pull away.

[Yelena]

"Shhh, shh shh," Yelena shook her head; lips parted slightly as she 'soothed' the struggling Deiniol and then stepped back to retrieve the vial and the syringe. She bit down on the cap and pulled the plastic away from the sharp, sterile point, spitting the cap away a moment later. Her eyes were on Deiniol all the while. The vampire turned the vial upside down and pushed the needle up into, drawing the plunger down to sap the clear liquid into it; her movements were precise but quick as if now that the decision had been made she didn't want to waste a moment.

With the syringe filled to her satisfaction she dropped the drug vial onto the table at her side, pushed the plunger up a little to expell the air and then with her free hand she swept up a small, white square cloth in a paper sealed package. Using her teeth again to tear at the wrapping -negating the sterility perhaps- and proceeded to cleanse Deiniol's inner arm. "I hope you have a strong stomach. I'm not sure how you'll react to this baby," she purred, discarding the cloth now and sinking to point of the needle into the vein that had bloomed up thanks to her earlier slaps on the inside of his elbow.

[Deiniol]

Even though he had known from the start that struggling would be useless against someone with her inhuman strength, Deiniol had been unable to help himself and part was glad that she hadn't punished him for that – another part of his was disgusted that he felt relief, that Yelena had managed to 'train' him already in any fashion.

He gave a low hiss as the tip of the needle slid into his body, his whole frame instantly growing tense and stiff as his eyes dropped to look at the syringe and the clear liquid that swirled inside and all too soon would be inside his own body, running through his blood and doing who knew what damage to his body. All attempts to struggle ceased the moment it was plunged into his vein as he watched with baited breath, trying to frantically remember the list Yelena had rattled off; pain, pleasure, truth, wrath and another, the panic and fear blurring his normally excellent memory. Denny honestly didn't know which would be the worst and he didn't know how strong his stomach was, but he knew he was about to find out.

[Yelena]

It was a small dose; just enough to garner the desired reactions but still leave him lucid enough afterwards for the rest of the games, she had some especially creative plans worming their way out of the recesses of her dark mind and she smiled because of them as she finished pushing the drugs into Deiniol's body. She pulled the needle out and tossed the syringe to one side; it clattered away across the floor and into the shadows of the corner.

"Just give it a few moments..." she said, though she wasn't really talking to her male 'guest', more to herself, restraining herself from diving straight into the next stage before he was ready, before his blood had a chance to saturate properly. She leant back on the table, her legs between Deiniol's, ankles crossing delicately as she took the weight off her stiletto clad feet.

[Deiniol]

The drug – whichever it was – burned as it moved though his veins, feeling as if it was pushing aside his own blood and causing pain. The feeling passed almost as quickly as it had begun, leaving behind emptiness. Whatever was now in his body, he could feel it working quickly, dizziness swimming in his head and making him light-headed almost to the point of giddy.

Deiniol’s head dropped lower as he felt himself relaxing, mind blurring somewhat and the fear receding. He stared at the left armrest, fingers twitching as he slowly uncoiled his hands from each other. Denny kept his movements small as he reached out, his whole attention now completely caught up with that part of the chair. Carefully he stroked it with one finger, the metal cool against his skin. The feeling was stronger than he would have thought, more intense and he began to rub at it with his thumb, completely ignoring the vampire opposite him.

[Yelena]

For almost half a minute Yelena watched curiously as Deiniol brushed his thumb back and forth over the arm rest of the metal chair. Then she stepped forwards, uncrossing her ankles gracefully and silently as she reached out and covered his hand with her own. Knees together with actions that were tight and precise, the vampire half bent, half leant down so that her face was at eye level with him. She didn't even speak at first, searching his face and more importantly his eyes as time ticked by.

Her free hand, the glossy black nail varnish catching in the dim lighting, reached to touch his knee to her left and she gave it a gently push, stepped around his right leg and lowered her light frame into his lap, "Just a little longer, baby," she breathed coolly, her hand still draped over his on the arm of the chair.

[Deiniol]

He had been enjoying the feel of his thumb against the metal, as if each of the ridges on his skin was tingling with the contact. Deiniol gasped slightly as the cool hand descended over his own, brain trying desperately to feel every part of the over stimulation. The young man made no effort to pull away or even recoil in disgust, apparently feeling too malleable to try anything of the kind.

Denny shook his head, trying to clear it as Yelena settled herself in his lap and immediately wished he hadn’t. The movement only made the world swim that much harder and he frowned as he tried to will the world to at the very least focus. Denny didn’t really mind the almost euphoric feeling, although the part of him that could still think clearly knew it was the drugs making him not mind. The way the world spun and dipped was less enjoyable however and without even thinking about it he reached out with his free hand, resting it lightly against Yelena’s hip, trying to keep things still.