[color=lightgray] [center][h1][color=#8D3B72]Kalliope's Kidnapping[/color][/h1] [img]https://i.ibb.co/G4r9DQf9/Screenshot-2026-02-04-183323.png[/img][/center] [color=#8D3B72]Time:[/color] 3am, Ignis 3 [color=#8D3B72]Location:[/color] ???? [hr] The first thing Kalliope heard was the [i]snap[/i] of a match. Sulfur hit her first, like someone had struck a match right under her nose, and the smell yanked Kalliope up out of blackness before her mind could assemble a single coherent thought. When her eyelids fought open, she saw: stone closing in on every side, damp air that tasted like old metal, a single candle with its flame dancing and stretching shadows across the walls. When she inevitably tried to sit up, she’d discover, in the same motion, that her body no longer belonged to her. Her wrists were forced behind the chair, locked in iron cuffs that bit into already aching skin, the chain between them too short to grant comfort. Her shoulders screamed the moment she pulled, heat and tearing pain blooming along the joints as if someone had designed the angle to punish instinct. Her ankles were shackled as well, linked close enough that even shifting her feet scraped skin raw. A strap cinched her torso to the back of the chair, so tight that every breath perpetuated her pain. Then she felt the collar. The moment she tensed, the warding reacted. Pain slid behind her eyes like a blade being pushed in slowly. She didn't scream; she merely sucked in a hissing breath through gritted teeth and threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut as she waited for the room to stop vibrating. A laugh finally greeted her, thoroughly entertained, as though her suffering was all too amusing. Felix Ivanov stood a few steps away in the candlelight, tall enough that the ceiling arches made him look even longer, his posture loose in a way that suggested he had all the time in the world. His countenance held seriousness that didn’t match the amusement in his eyes.[color=#dda0dd]“Careful,”[/color] he said, voice mild, [color=#dda0dd]“That collar doesn’t like enthusiasm. It will treat panic the same way it treats defiance, and it’s very thorough about both.”[/color] He was a sharp-featured young man dressed in a dark turtleneck with tousled dark-brown hair and striking eyes. His jaw was set, mouth relaxed in a way that read more bored than anything. Across from him, perched with feline ease as if she’d always belonged in dark places, Yuka Hanami watched with bright attention. Her black hair was swept up with a few loose strands that look intentionally placed. Dressed in glossy black with a severe collar and clean lines, she looked like elegance weaponized. There was warmth in her smile, the kind that could almost be mistaken for friendly. [color=#ff66cc]“You’re awake,”[/color] Yuka murmured, leaning forward, as if Kalliope were something interesting she’d found on a street and decided to keep. [color=#ff66cc]“I’ve been waiting for a long time.”[/color] She tilted her head, eyes blinking in an almost inhuman way. Felix crouched in front of her. [color=#dda0dd]“You’re under Sorian,”[/color] he said, not bothering with dramatic emphasis because he didn’t need it. [color=#dda0dd]“Old service tunnels, older than the parts people pretend are ‘historic.’ Stone, iron, and a lot of space that doesn’t echo the way you want it to. You can scream if that helps you, but it will only change the air temperature in the room.”[/color] He tilted his head toward her bound hands. [color=#dda0dd]“Cloth over the hands so you can’t do anything precise. Wrists behind you so you can’t generate leverage. Ankles close-chained, so you can’t brace or lunge. The strap is there because people with your kind of willpower throw their weight around when words don’t work, and I’d rather you didn’t test the chair. The collar is the important part.”[/color] His fingers didn’t touch her, but his gaze did. [color=#dda0dd]“The collar isn’t here to choke you. It’s here to stop you from doing whatever it is you do when you feel cornered. If you keep pushing, it gets worse, and it doesn’t get tired. It can outlast you.”[/color] Kalliope’s skull thudded against the chair, every word from Felix slicing through the fog in her head: the cuffs, the shackles, the silence. Candlelight jittered above, smearing gold across the sweating stone ceiling as her vision clawed its way back to clarity. A low, broken sound rattled up from her chest—first a wheeze, then a laugh, black and sharp, bouncing off the tunnel walls. She let it run wild, the sound jagged and mocking, until she finally dragged her head upright. Her eyes, green and wild, caught Felix’s and held, glittering with something feral and unsteady. [color=#8D3B72]“You talk a lot for a man who needs a leash and a chair to feel safe in the same room as me,”[/color] she rasped, her voice scraping out like gravel. She shifted, the iron gnawing at her skin, and let her gaze slide to Yuka. That 'warm' smile—she’d seen it before, on the faces of monsters who liked to savor their meals. [color=#8D3B72]“And as for the screaming?”[/color] Kalliope leaned in, the strap biting deep, a slow, wicked grin splitting her blood-smeared mouth. [color=#8D3B72]“I only scream for those who’ve earned it, darling. So far, all you’ve done is prove how scared you are of what I could do with my hands.”[/color] The collar jolted against her throat, a punishing throb, but she refused to look away. [color=#8D3B72]“So, are we going to keep prattling about how fucked I am and what pain’s waiting if I twitch wrong, or are you finally going to tell me what you want?”[/color] Felix smirked, his eyes drifting over her face like he was picking a point to press until it bled. [color=#dda0dd]“Yeah,”[/color] he murmured calmly, voice deep and heavy, [i][color=#dda0dd]“and you talk a lot for a girl who thought the bed was wet from the rain.”[/color][/i] He straightened with unhurried ease, then began to pace, slow enough that every scrape of his boots felt intentional, counted out, [i]inevitable.[/i] The candle flame shivered when he passed, stretching his shadow across her throat and collar like a hand. He stopped at her ear, close enough that his voice seemed to come from the stone itself. [color=#dda0dd]“And you talk a lot for a girl who still thinks the part where you survived was luck.”[/color] he breathed. Felix’s smirk pressed down on her like a boot to the chest, but it was his voice—those low, deliberate words curling into her ear—that cut deeper than any collar ever could. [i]The bed was wet from the rain.[/i] Kalliope’s breath caught, sharp and ragged, betraying her before she could swallow it down. The mocking grin stayed plastered on her lips, but it went stiff, cracking into something fragile and false. Her heart slammed wild and uneven against the strap across her chest. That wasn’t a taunt; it was a ghost clawing up from the grave. The tunnel vanished. She was back in that room, the sticky drag of blood-soaked sheets clinging to her small limbs. Mildew gave way to the thick, metallic stink of her parents’ lifeblood. The candle’s flicker twisted into the roar of flames devouring her home. Silence shattered under the memory of her aunt’s voice, raw and desperate, screaming at her to run. The river’s cold still gnawed at her bones, making her shudder. Hafiz’ face flashed up and she tried not to flinch at the memory of the man who’d dragged her from the dark and forged her into a weapon. If they knew about the bed, they knew about the rescue. They knew it all. She forced her eyes to stay open, though they were stinging with a sudden, unwanted heat. She followed Felix with her gaze, but the feral light was gone, replaced by something cold and calculating. [color=#8D3B72]“I’ll ask you again, you went through a lot of trouble to kidnap me,”[/color] she began, her voice dropping to a flat, dangerous monotone. She didn't bite at the bait about luck or survival. She didn't ask how they knew. She simply stared through him, her expression as cold and impenetrable as the stone walls surrounding them. [color=#8D3B72]“What the fuck do you want?”[/color] The candle suddenly did something candles weren’t supposed to do. Its flame didn’t gutter or bow to a draft... It stretched, as if the light itself had been hooked and pulled toward the doorway. Shadows followed, lagging behind the movement of the air. Felix stopped pacing. Yuka’s smile thinned, not with fear, but with the alert stillness of a predator noticing a larger one has entered the same territory. An older, black-haired man with gruff facial hair and an intense gaze like no otherstepped into the candle’s reach without urgency. The firelight slid across the scars on his face and found nothing soft to cling to. His eyes were entirely black, depthless as a well that didn’t reflect the sky. A wicked smile touched his mouth like he was remembering an old pleasure. [color=7D2933]“Why Kalliope?”[/color] His voice was low, deep, almost conversational in a casual way as it echoed unnaturally. [color=7D2933]“It’s you I want.”[/color] [i]—and then Kalliope’s scream tore through the tunnels.[/i] [/color]