Plurk paste

The drug flowing through his system stopped Sira from slipping fully into unconsciousness. Instead he found himself in a sort of half-state. He would catch glimpses of trees passing upside down, feel the brush of gentle fingers and the painful constriction of vines as they were wrapped tightly around his wrists. These moments were intertwined with bursts of memory. Flashes of translucent wings and dangerous eyes; tiny glowing bodies smashed to pieces by a man Sira had foolishly trusted.
Sira was honestly surprised he was waking up at all. For a few moments he held onto the hope that they'd been rescued by some formerly unknown good samaritan of the forest, but that illusion died a painful death as he blinked open his eyes to find Nasrin staring at him.
“Oh good, you're awake,” the Jael said, smiling brightly.
Sira thought viciously of kicking his teeth out, but feeling was flooding back into his body and a cursory examination found that while he still had all his limbs, he was both naked and tied up.
“Did I really need to be naked for this?” Sira asked, eyes squinting despite the darkness that surrounded them.
“Of course,” Nasrin said, sounding amused, “Clothes will just get in the way.”
“What is it with people and wanting to get us naked?” Daim asked, surprising Sira. He craned his neck to the side and saw that the other man was tied up on the other side of the clearing, a couple of metres away. He'd been stripped too, and both of them were in the same position - sitting with their arms tied behind their backs, their legs stretched out in front of them. Past Daim he could see the slumped forms of Prem and Liadan, still unconscious.
Grinning over at Sira, Daim went on, “I mean I know that we're both handsome and everything, but honestly.”
Despite the situation, or maybe because of it, Sira laughed.
“Shut up,” Nasrin snapped, stalking over to Daim. He had Sira's daggers strapped to his waist and was wielding an axe he'd apparently done an excellent job of hiding while they'd been travelling together.
“You really can't take a joke, can you Nas?” Daim asked, quirking an eyebrow.
“I said. Shut. Up,” Nasrin said, voice deadly.
“You know I really don't-”
“Daim,” Sira snapped, adrenaline racing through his blood without any sort of outlet. “Please, just shut up.”
Nasrin turned back to him, eyes narrowed and calculating. “You really do care about him, don't you?” he asked, clearly puzzled. “But why? What does he have that I don't?”
“Sanity?” Daim asked.
Nasrin spun back around and, without any warning, slammed one of his hooves straight into Daim's left kneecap. Sira heard the bone crunch before Daim let out a howl of agony, falling backwards until he was lying prone across the forest floor.
“Fucking hell,” Daim swore, body spasming against its restraints. His face had gone completely pale and he gasped in lungfuls of air. His eyelids fluttered as he fought to stay conscious.
“You son of a bitch,” Sira snarled, straining against the thick, woven vines that held him, “Wait 'til I get my hands on you, you bastard.”
Nasrin laughed, giddy, as he turned back to face him. “Oh Sira my darling, this is only the beginning,” he said, striding back over to stand in front of him. “By the time I'm through with your lover boy he'll be begging me to kill him. To end his agony. He thinks he's in pain now, but this is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to him.”
Sira felt his blood run cold, “But why? Why do any of this?” he asked, struggling to understand.
“Why not?” Nasrin asked, smile lingering on his lips as he shrugged.
“Because we're people? Because it's wrong?” Sira asked, knowing that for things to have gone this far there was little chance he'd be able to change Nasrin's mind, but he was still desperate to try something, anything, to make this stop.
“But how could it be wrong when it feels so right?” Nasrin asked, leaning down to trace the curve of Sira's cheek with the edge of his axe. “And what does it matter that you're people? You're an infestation. Plaguing this forest. Plaguing the world! With your petty arguments and your problems; your wars and religions. Acting as if any of it matters. You think you're all so important. Do you honestly think, if you were to die, that the world would stop spinning? That it would grieve for your loss?”
Nasrin laughed, cold and cruel. Sira felt himself fighting back tears, overwhelmed.
“Hush my darling, don't cry,” Nasrin said, crouching down in front of him to look him straight in the eye. “It won't be so bad, I promise. When I'm done with Daim I'll finish off your other friends quickly enough - I have no interest in making them suffer - then it'll just be you and me.”
He leaned in closer, smiling so sweetly, his eyes alight with fervour. Sira struggled to breathe, eyes wide and watery, mind frantic as he strained against his bonds.
“I'm so looking forward to it,” Nasrin whispered, mouth barely an inch away and still closing in, “I've never killed a God before.” He breathed the words onto Sira's lips, moving in to kiss him.
Acting on instinct, Sira closed the distance between them and bit him. Hard.