Post by TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TEAGAN TE on Apr 24, 2008 16:24:28 GMT -5
The Monolayre's brown eyes watched him coldly.
The poor lad was terrified--and, more importantly, distracted. Teagan quickly shifted her attention to the books binding her legs. She pushed her heels away from each other, letting the toes stay together. The books slowly moved out of the carpet, millimeter by millimeter. Then, they moved a little faster. Heaving silently, she managed to pry the books up by quite a bit. She stopped with a few centimeters left to go and caught her breath as quietly as she could.
Her eyes flickered over to her kidnapper. She stopped urging the ice charm forward when her attention turned to her iron shackles. In fact, she had actually no intention of harming a single hair on his chinny-chin-chin or his pretty Ken-style Barbie-loving little face with her magic (only punching and kicking were allowed for this attractive area of flesh)--there was simply no reason for him to be cognizant of that, though.
The handsome criminal used a flame thrower on his arms... The rapid temperature change from ice to fire would no doubt give his arm the texture of a cracked, dried-out lifeless terrain. It was possible he could bleed as well, if only in little cuts. Teagan was sure it would have been safer for him to warm it up slowly. He was too panicked for such a thought, ironically. The flames dripped on Teagan's skin only like a muggle hairdryer was nearby; for someone she wanted to despise her, he was quite obstinate about not hurting her--well, not hurting her unless it was on his terms.
She had an ointment stored in her room that would heal his skin overnight. Of course, he did not need to know this either.
Unfortunately, the twerp did not cowardly scamper off, so Teagan left her limbs trapped as they were.
The pervert gave another spiel, an angry one this time, and a much shorter one than the rest of the courteous language he bothered with earlier.
Personally, she did not perceive any of this "business" as "funny."
He threatened to obliterate her wands; she supposed she could always purchase new ones in town. Never mind that those were the second and third wands she ever had to buy.... How did they always end up getting destroyed?
Her chest moved steadily by now. Watching his gray-black orbs, a thought suddenly danced through her mind: Was he actually scared?
A new rictusempra shot through her body, suddenly making it convulse with the shrill, uncomfortable feelings of glee. Teagan winced, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling them wet undesirably beneath her lids. Her lithe form once again twisted and tightened, churning her insides. Her feet pushed against the books covering them for a moment, wiggling the iron slightly. Teagan steadied her feet, and she let the rest of her body struggle with the agonizing, wiggling energy climbing and zigzagging through it, toying with her bones, plucking at her veins.
Strained giggling sounds, a mix between a sigh and a cough, puttered out of her unwilling mouth at first. Her chest heaved with a small, unwanted laugh.
Then, her breathing sharply stopped, and her body ended its twitching, combating the restless urges under her skin. The Monolayre turned her pink face toward the boy, as if time froze. "Why--Why don't you just," she said, her soft voice filtering out carefully, her breathing very slim, "go away?"
As if nothing had happened, her body suddenly shocked through the giggles and tired, half-smile and violent squirming more fiercely than before; this was the retribution of her managing to stop it for a moment, to painfully do as she pleased; the attack on her body hit a high point before steadily declining back to its average rate of tickling force.
This guy was pretty amusing, she supposed. After acting like such a gentlemanly flirt, he stuck a younger girl to the ground and made her body wiggle all about, like a belly dancer going through a seizure, disrupting her robe and twisting her garments.
He claimed to only want the answers to a few, ridiculous questions.
All the little sixteen year old wanted was to never care about anyone again, to never have friends again, and to never be so shattered about their deaths again. Was that too much to ask for?
Her awkward laugh was half a scream, a very breathy one. Her fake, thin lips were stretched wide again in a grimacing grin.
Her eyes glittered faintly. She had trouble breathing enough with all of the shuddering about and undesired vocal noises. The edges of her vision were slightly dark, as if someone ringed their sides with a black Sharpie.
Her insides ached from her pushing against the burning excitement rippling through her unhappy figure. She, however, got some air into her lungs for a about ten seconds without another irksome giggle forced itself out of her struggling form.
Somehow, her eyes became teary from all the unfamiliar and uncomfortable laughing echoing through her body. What were they supposed to be called? Tears of joy?
She would give him some tears if he kept this up.
The poor lad was terrified--and, more importantly, distracted. Teagan quickly shifted her attention to the books binding her legs. She pushed her heels away from each other, letting the toes stay together. The books slowly moved out of the carpet, millimeter by millimeter. Then, they moved a little faster. Heaving silently, she managed to pry the books up by quite a bit. She stopped with a few centimeters left to go and caught her breath as quietly as she could.
Her eyes flickered over to her kidnapper. She stopped urging the ice charm forward when her attention turned to her iron shackles. In fact, she had actually no intention of harming a single hair on his chinny-chin-chin or his pretty Ken-style Barbie-loving little face with her magic (only punching and kicking were allowed for this attractive area of flesh)--there was simply no reason for him to be cognizant of that, though.
The handsome criminal used a flame thrower on his arms... The rapid temperature change from ice to fire would no doubt give his arm the texture of a cracked, dried-out lifeless terrain. It was possible he could bleed as well, if only in little cuts. Teagan was sure it would have been safer for him to warm it up slowly. He was too panicked for such a thought, ironically. The flames dripped on Teagan's skin only like a muggle hairdryer was nearby; for someone she wanted to despise her, he was quite obstinate about not hurting her--well, not hurting her unless it was on his terms.
She had an ointment stored in her room that would heal his skin overnight. Of course, he did not need to know this either.
Unfortunately, the twerp did not cowardly scamper off, so Teagan left her limbs trapped as they were.
The pervert gave another spiel, an angry one this time, and a much shorter one than the rest of the courteous language he bothered with earlier.
Personally, she did not perceive any of this "business" as "funny."
He threatened to obliterate her wands; she supposed she could always purchase new ones in town. Never mind that those were the second and third wands she ever had to buy.... How did they always end up getting destroyed?
Her chest moved steadily by now. Watching his gray-black orbs, a thought suddenly danced through her mind: Was he actually scared?
A new rictusempra shot through her body, suddenly making it convulse with the shrill, uncomfortable feelings of glee. Teagan winced, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling them wet undesirably beneath her lids. Her lithe form once again twisted and tightened, churning her insides. Her feet pushed against the books covering them for a moment, wiggling the iron slightly. Teagan steadied her feet, and she let the rest of her body struggle with the agonizing, wiggling energy climbing and zigzagging through it, toying with her bones, plucking at her veins.
Strained giggling sounds, a mix between a sigh and a cough, puttered out of her unwilling mouth at first. Her chest heaved with a small, unwanted laugh.
Then, her breathing sharply stopped, and her body ended its twitching, combating the restless urges under her skin. The Monolayre turned her pink face toward the boy, as if time froze. "Why--Why don't you just," she said, her soft voice filtering out carefully, her breathing very slim, "go away?"
As if nothing had happened, her body suddenly shocked through the giggles and tired, half-smile and violent squirming more fiercely than before; this was the retribution of her managing to stop it for a moment, to painfully do as she pleased; the attack on her body hit a high point before steadily declining back to its average rate of tickling force.
This guy was pretty amusing, she supposed. After acting like such a gentlemanly flirt, he stuck a younger girl to the ground and made her body wiggle all about, like a belly dancer going through a seizure, disrupting her robe and twisting her garments.
He claimed to only want the answers to a few, ridiculous questions.
All the little sixteen year old wanted was to never care about anyone again, to never have friends again, and to never be so shattered about their deaths again. Was that too much to ask for?
Her awkward laugh was half a scream, a very breathy one. Her fake, thin lips were stretched wide again in a grimacing grin.
Her eyes glittered faintly. She had trouble breathing enough with all of the shuddering about and undesired vocal noises. The edges of her vision were slightly dark, as if someone ringed their sides with a black Sharpie.
Her insides ached from her pushing against the burning excitement rippling through her unhappy figure. She, however, got some air into her lungs for a about ten seconds without another irksome giggle forced itself out of her struggling form.
Somehow, her eyes became teary from all the unfamiliar and uncomfortable laughing echoing through her body. What were they supposed to be called? Tears of joy?
She would give him some tears if he kept this up.