Looking up from accessing the damage to his arm, the infected stared at the gruff man just outside his cage as he spoke. He seemed to expect a reaction, an answer, something. The man's tone was low, giving the creature a hint as to the anger poring from him -- if he hadn't already sensed it in the air that surrounded them. He didn't make a peep, didn't even attempt to, mostly because of the confusion. For some reason he understood they were words, he just couldn't access their complete meaning. They came from the man's lips so quickly and so loudly they were reduced to nothing but aggressive expressions of sound. It did little to entice him out of the corner he found himself tucked into.
The sparks rain down on him, their tiniest embers quickly dissipating into nothing before they have a chance at burning him. Even though there's a layer of grated metal above his head, the creature ducks as if he were about to be struck with the prod skin-to-skin. The second strike makes him jump again, this time kicking at the front of the cage with his bare foot; not in an attempt to escape, but in an effort to meld further into the back and away from this mad man.
He hates being afraid.
The adrenaline, or something akin to the sensation makes him feel hyper aware of the situation. He cannot take his eyes off of the other, meeting his stare carefully, but assuredly. That was until he seemed to no longer be so bothered. The man moves away and the infected relaxes just a little as he let's his knees loosen from being pulled so taunt against his chest.
He watched every move, every detail. From the clink of glass, to the teasing swallow of a drink down his throat, to sharp smell of alcohol that he equated to the fighting rings. In fact it was so ingrained in his psyche, the vile, putrid smell, that he became on edge. He moved to the opposite corner of the cage, instinctually finding the vantage point whereas he could defend himself and nothing could come up behind him. When he couldn't decide that that was good enough, he moved to the other corner, then back again. He couldn't pace because he couldn't stand up, but his actions seemed the closest to duplicating the behavior.
After a moment the man returns and settles himself seated in front of him. The infected immediately stops what he's doing and faces him; reeling back to the back of the cage. He's speaking again but the creature can't comprehend. His brows shift like he's trying though, trying to riddle the puzzle out in his mind all the while combating the anxiety of smelling the alcohol so richly on the man's breath at this range.
Of all things though, he realized the man seems much more relaxed. Not so angry. His voice isn't as sharp or crisp as it was before. The sound that comes from him last is a simple word, singular and not hidden between many syllables so much that it's muddied. He commits it to memory, at least for now, not daring to try to say it out loud -- not in the man's presence. It helps that it's said without malice. Working with a simplified mind, the creature compares it to this relaxed interaction. Perhaps they were connected, perhaps he was calling a truce?
Ryatt moves to the edge of the cage, closer to the man, and presses his forehead to the bars of his cage. He licks his lips, still quite hungry; still trying to communicate that need, even if it was futile.
Posted 03-09-2022, 11:47 PM
Your Enemies and Your Demons
