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+---- Thread: I Wanna Fly, Can You Take Me Far Away? (/showthread.php?tid=18058)
I Wanna Fly, Can You Take Me Far Away? - Iris Oppenheimer - 01-19-2015
"Is this the best you've got?" Kinwrathi asked, spitting. His voice was strained ever so slightly. The knife pressed against his throat dug into his flesh, producing a hint of blood that trickled down his body. His eyes shot downwards to inspect the damage and he began to laugh. Iris, finally snapping out of her rage and realizing she was no longer throttling the Chieftain, looked up to where she heard his voice originate from and found herself taken aback, eyes widened. If she weren't already on her knees, the spectacle alone would've floored her. With her fury subsided, all she could do was stare at the two and bite her nails. Her brow furrowed more and more with each passing second. The interval between seconds felt longer and longer as she kept up her bewildered expression.
"Oh, and as for you," he snarled, turning his head slightly to look back at the man holding the knife to his throat. "You have no power here, worm."
"We both know that isn't true."
"Do we? Do we really, because the way I see it, I have all the power here! Do you want a demonstration?"
Before his captor could answer, Kinwrathi was gone again. Disappeared in a puff of smoke. The knife wielding man stumbled forward and by the time he regained his balance, the Chieftain was back once more. He brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder and delivered a slow, sarcastic round of applause. The smile on his face stretched as wide as his mouth would allow it, and then some. His lips parted, revealing a row of sparkling white teeth, and he nodded at the armed man glaring him before turning his attention to the still kneeling Iris. He opened his eyes as wide as Iris', smile still painted on his face, and cleared his throat.
"You should've killed me when you had the chance."
The Chieftain returned his attention to the man with the knife, who seemed to be frozen in place, and studied him for a moment. The man was tall and lean, with short brown hair however the thing that caught Kinwrathi's eye was his face. Or, lack thereof. The man's face was, deformed. A mess of facial features, none of which were quite visible. His entire face was blurred. Pixelated. Kinwrathi chuckled. His wide, unblinking eyes returned to Iris.
"Now, tell me. Who's this?"
He gestured with his hands for her to speak, but the second she opened her mouth he shushed her and cleared his throat.
"No, wait! I want to guess. That's Joseph, isn't it?"
The armed man stepped forward, knife raised. Kinwrathi shook his head and put on an exaggerated frown.
"No no, I wasn't talking to you. Answer the fucking question, Iris. That is Joseph, huh?"
Once again, Iris opened her mouth.
"No, wait. It isn't. It's not Joseph and it won't ever be Joseph no matter how much you want it to be because he's dead. Such a tragedy. I'm crying on the inside for your loss, I assure you. But, seeing as he's dead and gone, is this all you have for his memory? I thought you loved him."
The armed man, Joseph, had finally had enough with the Chieftain's ranting. Tightening his grip on the knife, he stepped forward and swung it with reckless abandon. Kinwrathi stood, still as a statue as the blade landed on his right forearm and Joseph pulled it back to him. A cut formed, and blood pooled on the surface of his skin. The Chieftain ran a finger along the cut, soaking it in the crimson liquid. Then, turning his finger to avoid spilling a drop, he slowly brought the bloodstained finger to eye level. However, his inspection was cut short by Joseph jamming the knife forward, aiming it at his stomach. He sidestepped out of the way, grabbing Joseph by the wrist with his bloody left hand and peeling the blade away with his right. Joseph thrashed and struggled, reaching out desperately to take the knife back but the Chieftain held it just out of his reach. He flashed his teeth once more as he tightened his grip on the knife's handle.
The handle cracked under the pressure.
And then, it broke. Turned to dust and all that was left, was the blade. To which Kinwrathi performed the same trick.
He opened his hand hand to reveal a mess of red and gray. Bloodied ash.
"Really should've killed me when you had the chance," he said with a snort as he brought the ash pile up to his lips and blew them into Joseph's face. The particles flew everywhere, and landed; half in the intended target's face and the other half stained the once immaculate white floor. Still grabbing Joseph's hand to keep him in place, Kinwrathi tugged at his wrist and spun his captive around, pressing his still bleeding forearm up against his throat. Iris watched in horror, still frozen in place.
"Come on! You can save him this time, I promise."
Iris' eyes sparkled ever so slightly, though she remained stationary.
"Do you really think that low of me? That I'd lie to you?" He asked, finally removing his hand from Joseph's wrist. As Iris contemplated an answer that wouldn't offend the Chieftain, he reached backwards, into a sheath attached to the back of his pants and retrieved another knife. An intricate design; lines, none of which combined to make a cohesive, tangible item, was carved into the wooden handle and the blade was jagged. Its edge, serrated. Without a sound he inspected the knife with a gleam in his eye and that already gaping grin widened even further.
"Well, you're right to think that!"
With the knife firmly in his grasp, he brought his hand up to Joseph's throat. And with two rough, jerking motions, he slashed the man's throat. Iris' eyes widened and her mouth hung open as she watched the blood pour from Joseph's throat, spurting every which way. The sparkling white floor ran crimson. Tears welled up in Iris' eyes, but before she could produce a sound, another voice penetrated the walls.
"Iris? Iris are you awake?"
Dr. Achterberg's voice. Then, the floor shook and the walls rattled before ultimately collapsing. Iris rubbed her eyes. She was no longer in the sterile, white hell she'd been trapped in for seemingly an eternity. She sighed in relief as her field of vision shifted from the gruesome sight she'd seen moments prior, to being entirely consumed by Achterberg's face. She jumped back into the back of the couch and gasped, which elicited a sigh and a slightly disapproving shake of the head from the good doctor.
"You said your sleeping schedule has been off, I guess I should've expected that. Now, where were we again? Ah, right! Your brother. Last session, you stormed out after I prodded too far in that direction. I'm hoping the extended time between our sessions has allowed you to warm up to the idea of talking about him..."
He continued to speak, but Iris had stopped listening. Instead, she let her head fall over to her right shoulder once more. Her eyes slid shut, and then opened once more.
A blink.
Another.
A smile.
She lifted her head back up and laid her hands in her lap. A glance down at her arm revealed a gash, which she grimaced at for a second, before returning to her smile. As Achterberg turned back around, finally finished with his spiel, he was greeted with the sight of Iris standing up, and turning towards the door.
"And where are you going now?"
"Anywhere that's not here."
"Oh no you don't."
Achterberg reached out and grabbed a hold of her left hand, just as she began to walk out. With an exasperated sigh, she spun around and delivered a swift kick to the groin that freed her from the Doctor's grasp and dropped him to the floor. She wasted no time in getting out of the office, practically sprinting out the door and down the hall to where the front door was. Achterberg's secretary looked up from a stack of paper work at the running girl and shrugged, before returning to said stack.
A few more steps, and she was free. Not that she cared much about that, as she kept up her pace until she had put blocks between the office and her.
"Where are we going?" Iris asked, somewhere in the recesses of her own head as whatever was steering her stopped so she could catch her breath.
She smiled. Not on her own volition, on the will of the malevolent entity in control of her actions.
"Home."