Pam Swynford De Beaufort (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lazy_but_loyal) wrote2014-10-01 12:48 am
lazy_but_loyal) wrote2014-10-01 12:48 am
Entry tags:
OOM: Fangtasia pt. 2
[Continued from here.]
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the Magister sings out, his voice an oozing echo in the semi-darkness of the dungeon.
Pam shoves her phone into her pocket and turns to look up at him as he and several of his vampire henchmen descend the stairs.
"Magister!" she says with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise."
The Magister is not amused.
"Oh, there's nothing pleasant about this."
One of his men is holding a cooler filled with large glass tubes containing vampire blood. The Magister takes one of them out and holds it up.
"This...is blasphemy," he hisses. "Take her!"
Two men grab Pam by the arms and drag her away, and the Magister follows, his cane tapping on the damp concrete floor.
"So, Miss De Beaufort -- where is Eric Northman this evening?"
Pam doesn't struggle against the vice-like hold of his vampire underlings. She tries to keep as calm as possible, fighting back the fear. She knows Eric can feel her, and she doesn't want to draw him in.
"Out for a stroll," she replies, nonchalant. "It's such a nice night, isn't it?"
"I have no patience for your games, Miss De Beaufort. But if you want to play, that can be arranged." The Magister casts his cold, snake-eyed gaze around, pointing with his cane. "How convenient that we're already in a dungeon. It makes my job so much easier."
Turning to his henchmen, he tells them, "Chain her up. And maybe we can flush Mr. Northman out of the woodwork."
And that's when panic truly grips her.
The vampires, already wearing gloves as protection, grab some silver chains hanging on the wall. One of them holds Pam's arms behind her back while the other rips open her jacket. She's wearing nothing but a bra underneath. And she struggles, before crying out when a length of chain is wrapped double around her throat.
Her bare skin sizzles and melts, peeling away under the weight of the silver. Her knees buckle and give out, and the vampires drag her to the Wheel.
"What an ingenious contraption," says the Magister, looking up at the wrought iron rods and spokes. "Simple, yet versatile."
With a wave of his cane, the vampires force Pam to her feet and stand her up on the edge of the Wheel, chaining her wrists and ankles to the spokes. She has no choice but to hold on or else the chains would tear right through her flesh if she didn't bear some of her weight.
The Magister stands in front of her.
"Are you ready to talk, Miss De Beaufort?" he croons. "Or must I make you scream first?"
His cane is tipped with silver.
Pam gasps and recoils, the chains ripping at her wrists.
He drags the silver tip across her ribcage and she cries out in agony.
[NOTE: Dialogue in thread taken from True Blood episode 3x04.]
"Come out, come out, wherever you are," the Magister sings out, his voice an oozing echo in the semi-darkness of the dungeon.
Pam shoves her phone into her pocket and turns to look up at him as he and several of his vampire henchmen descend the stairs.
"Magister!" she says with a smile. "What a pleasant surprise."
The Magister is not amused.
"Oh, there's nothing pleasant about this."
One of his men is holding a cooler filled with large glass tubes containing vampire blood. The Magister takes one of them out and holds it up.
"This...is blasphemy," he hisses. "Take her!"
Two men grab Pam by the arms and drag her away, and the Magister follows, his cane tapping on the damp concrete floor.
"So, Miss De Beaufort -- where is Eric Northman this evening?"
Pam doesn't struggle against the vice-like hold of his vampire underlings. She tries to keep as calm as possible, fighting back the fear. She knows Eric can feel her, and she doesn't want to draw him in.
"Out for a stroll," she replies, nonchalant. "It's such a nice night, isn't it?"
"I have no patience for your games, Miss De Beaufort. But if you want to play, that can be arranged." The Magister casts his cold, snake-eyed gaze around, pointing with his cane. "How convenient that we're already in a dungeon. It makes my job so much easier."
Turning to his henchmen, he tells them, "Chain her up. And maybe we can flush Mr. Northman out of the woodwork."
And that's when panic truly grips her.
The vampires, already wearing gloves as protection, grab some silver chains hanging on the wall. One of them holds Pam's arms behind her back while the other rips open her jacket. She's wearing nothing but a bra underneath. And she struggles, before crying out when a length of chain is wrapped double around her throat.
Her bare skin sizzles and melts, peeling away under the weight of the silver. Her knees buckle and give out, and the vampires drag her to the Wheel.
"What an ingenious contraption," says the Magister, looking up at the wrought iron rods and spokes. "Simple, yet versatile."
With a wave of his cane, the vampires force Pam to her feet and stand her up on the edge of the Wheel, chaining her wrists and ankles to the spokes. She has no choice but to hold on or else the chains would tear right through her flesh if she didn't bear some of her weight.
The Magister stands in front of her.
"Are you ready to talk, Miss De Beaufort?" he croons. "Or must I make you scream first?"
His cane is tipped with silver.
Pam gasps and recoils, the chains ripping at her wrists.
He drags the silver tip across her ribcage and she cries out in agony.
[NOTE: Dialogue in thread taken from True Blood episode 3x04.]
no subject
He tries to keep his own emotions contained. For her sake and for his own. Trying to think of the best way to attack the situation. But all he can think of is how the Magister looked at Pam, back in the eighties. How he looked at Eric last he was at Fangtasia. His desire for a public execution.
They've turned off the neon sign outside and the 'Closed' sign is still up.
He keys in the code, his fingers a blur, and then he is running, running, through the empty hallway and down the stirs to the dungeon.
He can hear them.
"Let her go!"
His voice sounds strange to his own ears.
"I am who you want. But I have been framed."
He can hardly manage to look at the Magister because of Pam. Her smoking flesh. The agony in her eyes.
He can feel a slow trickle of panic.
Because this is the extent of his plan. To somehow convince the Magister that he's got the wrong vampires.
He just doesn't know how.
no subject
The Magister turns to Eric, a sneer on his lips, a cruel slash against the white of his face.
"'Oh, you've got the wrong man.' 'My dog ate my homework.' 'I saw Goody Osburn with the devil.' Excuses are one thing I can assure you do not get better with age."
He points his cane to one of his henchmen, holding the case of V.
"Do you deny the blood was being sold in your area?"
Pam, trembling with weakness, meets Eric's eyes. She's still with him. She's not going to crack. She would withstand this pain if it meant buying him time.
no subject
And her fate is in his hands. Again. And he almost fucked it up last time. He can't let her down again. He cannot.
"Not on my orders."
He can't get her off of the wheel and escape with her. He can't be sure that he'd be able to kill both the Magister and his henchmen and then release her.
He has no choice but engage in this dance with the Magister. And he can only see one step ahead.
no subject
Not on my orders.
Pam's mind is racing.
"Then on whose?" the Magister asks Eric. "Your Queen's? What shall it be, Sheriff?"
His henchmen turn the wheel, creaking on its rusty axle, until Pam is in a shaft of sickly light. Her pale skin looks even paler, the fear in her eyes even clearer. But she doesn't fear only for herself. She fears for Eric.
"Desecration of the blood?" the Magister continues. "Or treason against your regent?"
He doesn't give Eric much of a choice. And Pam wishes he didn't have to make one with her at stake. Again.
"Both among the most dire of crimes..."
The Magister turns to Pam, and as casually as if he were caressing her with a finger, he gouges a burning cut down the center of her chest with the tip of his cane.
She screams:
"It was Bill Compton!"
Through the debilitating torment, Pam manages to look up and hold Eric's gaze.
Use him. Use him!
no subject
And if he is gone, who will then protect Pam?
He knows that his silence is a damning as a wrong choice, but he can't -
And then Pam screams.
And yes. Yes, they can blame Compton. It is not ideal, but it will buy them time.
"It is true," he says, quickly.
"He - he is gone missing." A little hesitant at first, but warming to the story by the second.
"You've seen yourself how easily he betrays our kind for personal gain. I believe he is behind this, and I am gathering evidence to bring him to you."
Finally hitting that note of sincerity he has cultivated over centuries. Not looking at Pam because it will make him stumble. Trying to ignore the pain she is feeling. The anguish.
"Now let me finish my work."
Quietly insistent. Willing the Magister to believe him. To buy the lie.
To let Pam go.
no subject
And he does seem to be considering it.
He looks from Eric to Pam.
"They say the loss of a child is the deepest of despair," he muses with eerie nonchalance, clearly addressing Eric.
And this time Pam's fear wins out as the panicked whimpers well up in her throat.
The Magister turns to Eric.
"Two days, Mr. Northman...or she dies..."
With gloved fingers, he removes the silver tip of his cane to reveal a sharpened wooden stake.
"...a True Death."
no subject
And then The Magister steps close, holding up his murderous cane, close to Eric's face and it is a struggle not to let his fangs down. Not to snarl in his face.
But then he would loose what little they have won. What little Pam have won them.
So he moves back, as if drawn by invisible forces, and heads for his office.
Two days.
He'll have to track down Compton and somehow make him confess.
In two days.
He'll need to seek permission first from Mississippi. And the wolves will have to wait. He'll have his revenge later. When they're safe.
When Pam is safe.
no subject
She'll be strong for him. She knows he'll come through. He always has.
Just hurry.
And then he's gone. And she's never felt more vulnerable in her life.
The Magister replaces the silver tip on his cane. Turning back to Pam, he now can devote the entirety of his attention solely to her.
"Now, Miss De Beaufort," he says, his voice like a toxic oil slick, "I do believe that the next forty-eight hours will be very interesting indeed..."