saying right here. xx

[Nathaniel Laurent]

"Yes of course," the large man with the mustard stains down his shirt whispered to the guard over his shoulder. The shudder rolling through the burly man obviously. He was much bigger than the prisoner, he was stronger too...but there was just something about the black haired man that was unsettling. The days like this were the worst. The days where he seemed almost lucid, almost normal as they pulled from his cell out to the showers once a month, the chilling smile that would roll over his features, the way he rose from his kneeling position on the floor too easily. Stood, turning, extending his arms for the metal shackles that would need to be in place, the look on his face testing, challenging...and the burly man stepped backward, nearly frightened look on his face as he moved backward toward the door, haunted laughter coming from the prisoner...the door being slammed shut in his face "I'm going to need some back up in here,"

---

The locks on his ankles were reenforced, the metal handing from his wrists nearly too heavy to lift his arms up, so they sagged between his parted knees, attached to the floor. The signs of abuse were evident, not just on him, but also on the men that had brought him down. There shouldn't have been any visits today, shouldn't have had anything other than the darkness of his cell. Should have had nothing more than a personal visit from a dementor, and that would come, as soon as she left. Couldn't advertise that, after all. They always used him to feed after she had left. It was the only time he resembled anything like happy. Though perhaps not after today, not after what he had done, how he had acted. The thick ring around his neck kept his shoulders hunched, kept him from being comfortable, but they didn't want him comfortable. Not with what he had done. His clothes were more torn than usual, a chunk of hair missing from the side of his head and skin between his teeth. His lips pursed together as she moved into the room, the guards cautioned against it, were moving their hands against it, telling her to stay back. She saw. She ignored, she sat anyway. His eyes lifted to her face slowly enough. It was as if he was almost surprised to see her. He could speak where she could not and yet he said nothing, face visibly straining with the effort that it took to lift his wrists and slamming them onto the metal table top, the crack echoing the small space. He picked his wrists up and dropped them again for effect. The sound registering as his fingers started to move. He never signed to her, he didn't always talk but he never signed. He would talk at her sometimes, but she had never been here whenever he had been like this. 'Hello butterfly' his teeth bared to her 'how, unexpected'

His head rotated to the side, slowly, his eyes flicking from her to the recoiling man just to her side. All to protect her. All to keep her safe. The room was too quiet, with neither of them speaking. Only for a moment, before the clanging happened again, but his wrists didn't move, didn't move at all but the banging in his head, his body slumped, head moving to meet his weighted palms in obvious pain, though no sound left his lips. As quickly as it had come, it was gone again, the banging, a confused look on her head. His head lifted to hers again, his torso still slumped, nearly resting on the table, the ache not wanting to leave. Rapidly, his head fell, was forced down against the flat surface, just barely missing the bolt holding his shackles in place. He nearly let his head bang again, and then did, skin of his temple splitting as he grazed the bolt, but the pain in his head was gone, his hands pushing forward on the table, in front of his bowed head, fingers not wanting to make signs, not wanting to make sense of his brain, but he pushed onward. Feral screaming from chapped and broken lips as a sobbed raw voice echoed in the confines of her head, 'you shouldn't have come'

[Isobel Dùbhghlas]

but I can't respond to your sign language
^{You're taking advantage, bringing me down}

“Today’s not a good day miss.” The guard pressing his arms out in front of him didn’t look so impressive, not with that bruise on his face, or the way he was eying her same as he always did. As if she was mentally incompetent. Even the way he spoke to her was slowed, enunciating every syllable as if somehow her inability to speak vocally made her brain just as broken. Her lips pulled to the side, fingers uncurling from the sleeves of her sweater, one hand rising between the two of them and flipping outwards. ‘It’s visiting day isn’t it?’ Narrowed eyes followed the motions, sigh fleeing his lips as he turned to beckon the slighter guard over- waving his hand towards her to do it again, something she complied with after only a moment. Not hesitation, she was familiar with this. Again, the sigh and shake of his head. “Yes. It’s visiting day. I just don’t think you want to be visiting with him today.” Well he didn’t think that she wanted to be visiting him any day that she showed up here, regular hours or not- he’d been telling her such for years now. It was only recently that he started referring to some of his days as bad rather than just her inability to comprehend the gravity of her situation or safety. Again her fingers curled and uncurled, flashing more quickly in the air now that the little man was present. ‘It is-‘ hands cutting across the word with a little more force than necessary- ‘visiting day.’ Shoulders squared in front of her, eyebrows pulling down as the guard looked as if he was just barely keeping from taking half a step forward. “Yes. It. Is. Not for him though.” Not for him? How ridiculous. Her head cocked to the side, running over the length of him as if she were measuring him up. She didn’t need to, she knew his make well enough by now. ‘Legally speaking you can’t make that decision for him.’ One eyebrow raising as the man turned to outright glaring down at her, stepping back away from both she and the man interpreting with clenched fists. “Fine. On your head if he flips on you then,” something that sounded similarly akin to stupid bitch muttered as he turned away. She did have excellent hearing after all. “Put her in the back room. And you can have Ellison be the one to escort him there- I’m going on lunch.” Heavy footsteps stomping away angrily as she turned her face up with a smile to the man left standing with her, his head shaking slightly as he gestured out in front of her. They both knew she knew the way just as well as he did by now.

The flats of her ballet slippers moved across the floor- eyes turning just once to make sure that her translator was still escorting her before she turned the familiar corner, passed through the wall of security there- turning sideways between two men with a smile before she kept on her way- down another set of hallways and to the locked door- her feet stilling as the man came up beside her, casting a sideways glance at her from the edge of his eyes as he pulled his wand out, ran it over the steel bar in front of them. That was fine, he could look at her sideways. He at least didn’t make comments; spoke to her just the same as he did everyone else. ”The fuck Murphy!? Did Ryan even tell her today was a bad day?” Blonde and blocky, he stood in front of the reinforced doorway, little window just too high from this vantage point for her to see within it. Her hands shot out again, rapidfire movement passing over them before the man beside her could speak, her eyes centered on the blonde man. The voice beside her choked slightly, his head shaking as he shrugged self consciously. ”She says he did. In his own way. And that she’s fine.” He at least had the decency not to snort- not like the man in front of the door. Not even like the man ducking out from the door opening from within, his face a mass of bruising and indentation. That kind of bad day then. Another small smile as the men looked at her, the beaten one who’d just come out of the room glaring as if it were her fault that he had those markings. Never mind that the both of them put their hands out when she took a step forward, her eyebrows twisting sardonically until they moved aside, blonde following shortly behind her. Hadn’t she said she was fine? Her feet were sure, passing over the surface until she reached the chair, sliding into it from the side and rearranging her skirts over her legs- hand going out to her side to sign once more. ”Sir. Uh sir, she says she already told you that she was fine.” Yes boyo, that was exactly what she had said- even if the commotion behind her once more than emphasized how they felt on the matter- the door slamming to a close behind them, voices cutting off. It was only then that she looked over to the man she’d come to visit, right corner of her lips lifting in greeting. 'Hello butterfly how, unexpected' Unexpected? ”I did tell you I would come.” her fingers flashing the movement along with what she was trying to push to him with her mental voice, refusing to let her smile slip even when he didn’t seem to notice the latter. ”You look like shit frein. Didn’t ye listen to your mam when she said It taks a lang spoon tae sup wi' the de'il?”


Her fingers curled into one another atop the table, lips pulling. She wanted to turn back and look at those faces through the window, wanted to turn to the presence in the room that she was ignoring and demand that the shackles be removed. He wasn’t dangerous. 'you shouldn't have come' One arm extended, two fingers extending to tap against his temple- short, soft. ”I said I would.” Her fingers flattened, avoiding the bruising and abrasions, running up over his forehead and touching briefly at the hair line. His hair was unwashed again. Oily. Her fingers circled around the marred parts of his face, eyes blinking at him slowly. The smile was gone, fingers flattening until her palm could rest fully over his cheek. She hadn’t missed a visit in all six years that he’d been here- wouldn’t miss one just because the men behind the door didn’t understand. ”I’m not going anywhere boyo. Told you you were stuck with me.” She didn’t want to move the fingers of her free hand over the table- once upon a time she wouldn’t have had to, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that here and now- her torso half leaning over the table so that she didn’t have to move her hand.

can't you make any sound?
^{you speak to me in sign language}

(WORDS) dunno (TAGGED) Nathaniel
(NOTES) asdfasdfada
(CREDITS) THIS IS BY DYLAN of CAUTION 2.0! 

[Nathaniel Laurent]

His arms flattened out in front of him as far as the cuffs would allow. As far as he could and then he pushed until the metal was digging into his skin, his head laying flat on the cold, smooth surface. So much more comfortable here than in his room. Softer. He wasn't even reaching for her, not on purpose, but he was. He wasn't allowed to touch her, prisoners couldn't touch the visitors, but on this day...maybe on this day they would allow it. The hand pressed to his hair and a sob wracked his chest, volume intensified as it bubble past the small drippings of blood down his face to the surface, losing himself under her fingers. Lost. Lost long ago, couldn't even find himself. Couldn't remember his own name, couldn't remember family, only knew her face. The only face that he ever saw. He felt her hands pressing into his cheek, one sign at a time so that he could understand, one word at a time, no more invading, no more banging of his head. Stuck with her. He understood, and he didn't like it. It was the other way around. He was the plague. Dragging her from her bed and forcing her on this rotting island. His body jerked, like he wasn't even controlling it, and very well he wasn't. Twitched and flew backward in his chair until the legs came teetering onto the back two, wobbling for a second before falling forward again, the guards threatening to move in on him one more, and his face slammed back down onto the table, one cheek facing upward.

His fingers twitched under the table, the sockets of his shoulders pulling painfully downward, his knuckles almost brushing the dingy floor as his lips moved on his face, muttering, always muttering but no sound ever came out. He couldn't speak today. He knew there was movement going on around him, knew that he would be punished later. He always was. In here it was more the gaps between punishments than an actual sentence. His hearing had been a joke and here he was, losing his hair. One clump at a time. Hair was never had been this long before. She wasn't supposed to be on this side of the table, but she was, her knees bending, her skirts trailing the floor with the motion, shame. She shouldn't touch this floor. He couldn't stop the tears flowing down his face at the sight of her, looking up at him. Guilt, guilt was damned near overwhelming. He wanted to tear at the band around his neck, to pull at the metal until his face turned a deep, oxygen starved shade of blue, his eyes flicking to her hands as they moved again, but he didn't answer her, didn't move anything other than the blue-green orbs to watch her.

Tears still rolled freely down his face, but no other muscle in his body moved, if anything, the weight of the chains made his shoulders pull too unnaturally. There was a banging on the table, that made his ears ring, something sloshing, something wet as a drop jumped from the basin and onto his forehead. Clearly, he was beyond upset. In too much anguish to even function even further. Perhaps it was a good thing that she had showed, perhaps she would calm him down, clean him for them and make him docile. Docile for the Dementors. He didn't move but to shut his eyes at the cloth on his face, didn't move or feel the same shame that he once had. He used to avoid seeing her because of how he looked, how they made him look. He used to have pride, he used to care. He used to be a clean shaven, handsome man. He used to be a lot of things. Now he was just the monster that they wanted him to be. He was the monster and she was his beauty. His butterfly. He tried not to crush her, he did. Tried not to pull her wings. He let the chains nearly dislocate his shoulders he was so limp. Couldn't even muster up the energy to open his eyes back again as the cloth moved soothingly over his skin, pressing into his wounds, numerous now they were. Lesions and cuts, bruises from kicking and worse, sores from the cell he resided in. She pushed the rag over his neck and shoulders, all nearly exposed with the tatters he wore. No modesty left. No class. So he wept.

How could he tell her that he wished she wouldn't? It was a kindness, more than he deserved. The butterfly needn't worry herself with fixing him, with cleaning him. He would only be dirty again by tomorrow. The wounds she was healing, were only going to hurt that much more once they were reopened. If it hurt to begin with, it didn't hurt as much to be made worse. The tearing of new flesh? That, that hurt worse. Even if he had been able to find his voice, he wouldn't have wanted to speak in this room, wouldn't have wanted to talk to those around her, and no way to talk to only her. No way that his very signs weren't being recorded by the one helping her, transmitted to paper. Paper paper paper. Paper cuts. His heavy eyes opened to see her shining face. She was a ball of light. She didn't belong here. He wished he knew who she was, wished that he knew her name so that he could tell her so. Flip his chair? He didn't even understand. His eyes just stared blankly up at her, blinking slowly. He understood the words, but not the meaning, nearly lifeless eyes watching her.

[Isobel Dùbhghlas]

but I can't respond to your sign language
^{You're taking advantage, bringing me down}

The anger cut through her chest quickly, lips pulling as her eyes shut against the sight in front of her. Unwashed. He was always unwashed. But now there were open cuts on his body, just now beginning to scab around the edges. Now there was blackened blood caking the side of his face, chunks of his hair almost completely matted together. Her free hand slammed down on the table, jarring the man from her peripheral into a half step forward. ”BRING ME A BASIN OF WATER. NOW.” She knew she was broadcasting much further than she should have, knew that she was pressing into minds that weren’t even associated with this institution as her head swiveled- purposefully the only mind she wasn’t touching was the one in front of her, the one that was blocked to hearing her. She could see the handle turning on the door, angry eyes reddened and peering at her through the glass even as it begun to swing forward. The man to the side front of her had one hand on his pocket, presumably over his wand- the other with his palm pressed into the side of his head. She hadn’t meant to speak so loudly. Hadn’t meant to extend her ‘voice’ so far. But even as the door opened, head already shaking she couldn’t stop from doing it again. ”You are so far outside of the legal parameters set forth to you as a employee of this ministry that it is sickening. When was the last time you washed him? These cuts? How long has he had them without being cleaned? I expect a basin in here within the next five minutes or aye’ll be getting het up and contacting Mr. Wentworth immediately. “ Five minds only, she’d at least limited it now, even if she could see the twitching at the corner of the blonde man’s eyes from the force with which she was pressing forth. Ash could be here in five minutes straight, could be in the room with them in six or less even- she knew from experience. The two exchanging a look over her did too, it was probably the only thing that allowed the slamming of the door as the man backed out once more, her feet sliding to the side of the chair and standing, twitching her skirts into place as she walked to the side of the table- eyes slanting slightly at the noise of protestation that left the guard’s lips. She’d been thrown out for as much before, been restrained physically the last time that he’d had an actual fit and she’d tried walking over to him. Eegits. The lot of them, she had enough to go off of right now for him to back down though, rolling his eyes back to the door with obvious displeasure when she paused in front of him. ‘You need your hair washed.’ Short movements of her fingers as her eyes moved to the matted mass and back to his face. ‘And those cuts.’

She nodded once, lips parting in her own silent sigh as she reached up once more, finger just barely touching his chin before she pulled back her arms bending at the elbow as she set about the business of rolling the sleeves up and over her wrists, pushing once the material became too tight to continue to roll- up over her elbows, fingers twitching slightly as she brought them back down. Again her hand lifted between them, closing the space and wrapping around his cheek in silence, thumb brushing once over the moisture that had fallen there. They were stupid to think she wouldn’t be going to Ashton after this- that she wouldn’t be reporting this anyways. Reporting it to the prison got her nothing, served no purpose. Ash would take care of it though; he’d help take care of him. Her eyes rotated from the silent face slowly, looking at the guard behind him with carefully blank features. Four minutes. She hadn’t been kidding. Five minutes only and she would be calling for Ash here and now. Movement against her palm had her looking back up, feet shuffling the slightest bit closer, ignoring the grime on the floor. Her clothes could be laundered. Another issue. But she wasn’t going to press that one, not with the apparent compliance that was happening right now. The door opened again, her hand sliding slowly away from the skin as her spine straightened, legs lengthened as she stood and watched the skinny translator from before approaching with the large basin full of water- hands shaking the thing as he placed it upon the table, nervous eyes flicking from the guards to her and back. Pointedly avoiding the man resting on the table every time. The wash cloth was folded over the side, little but a rag itself but it would do- she was somewhat pleased to see him pulling little bottles from his pocket, casting another nervous glance over his shoulder. His idea then. That was a first. Her lips curled upwards, smile of thanks in his direction along with the small flurry of her fingers as she approached. It wasn’t that Murphy was like the others, he didn’t even work back in these parts of the prison. He just happened to be the only one willing to translate for her- and … more scared of his coworkers than did him any real good. Her fingers dipped over the lid of the bowl, ran through the cold water with furrowed brows, smile stretching as nervous fingers dropped into his pocket- pulled forth his wand and waved it towards the bowl before scurrying away, eyes too wide. She’d have to mention to Ash- exempt him somehow. The washcloth was pushed into the water, lifted and soaped with two of the different vials before she approached him again, running it from temple to chin slowly- eyes watching his for any extra sign of distress.

: It was harder now than it had been before, to keep the tears from falling out of her eyes and down onto him as she rolled the cloth over his skin, repeatedly taking it back to rinse it in the basin, her lips pulled occasionally. She wanted to talk to him while she did it, wanted to keep the flow of chatter soothingly going as she cleaned him. Couldn’t though. Not with his reaction to when she’d tried earlier. It was just silent in the room, guard pointedly turning his face from what it was she was doing with a sneer curling his lips. How anyone could find it repulsive when they were the ones who let him get into this shape was beyond her. It wasn’t until all of the skin she could reach was completely cleared that she put the cloth back down into the water, not taking her eyes off of the man in front of her as she directed her mental voice back to the guard. ”I need that water cleaned.” She didn’t have to look back to it to see just how murky it was now; almost completely brown as compared to the clear it had been when she’d started only minutes before. Her hands paused, drifting down to his cheeks again and gathering the liquid dripping down them, thumbs brushing up under his eyes before she pulled away entirely. She could practically feel the affront coming off of the other body in the room, feel his disbelief. She’d give him a little more time to comply before she began threatening again. She still had the wounds to fix after all. She couldn’t use her wand like she would have liked, but she could at least use the salves that Murphy had brought in. She’d be kissing his cheek when she left, she decided, her eyes flicking to the door before she uncapped one- thick green paste sliding onto her two outstretched fingers before she set it back down. She just needed to…- her fingers were careful, light as they pushed it over the opened skin, paste quickly turning purple before seeping into the wounds, disappearing into the flesh that was already showing signs of healing as she moved to the next. There were so many… Her stomach clenched, teeth copying the motion as the man stepped purposefully to close behind her on his way to the basin, fixing it silently before moving back to his assigned post again. She didn’t even know how long it took her to address all of his injuries, lost track of time as she finished rubbing the last in, more than pleased at the fact that the ones she’d started with already had nearly fresh skin. Her eyes ran what she could see of him before stepping back again, hands coming out before her as she signed at him- careful attention paid to make sure he was actually seeing it. ‘I need to get your hair, you think you can readjust for me if I can get them to flip your chair?’ If… she would. Not matter how many more furious things she needed to say to get it to happen.

can't you make any sound?
^{you speak to me in sign language}

(WORDS) dunno (TAGGED) Nathaniel
(NOTES) asdfasdfada
(CREDITS) THIS IS BY DYLAN of CAUTION 2.0!