[Slevin doesn't even notice what Cassel is doing, of course, trying desperately to separate himself from his body long enough for the pain to stop one way or another, continually drawn back in by the spinning bit of the drill taking pieces of him with it. Jokes float across his mind, the high delirious kind, the kind that would get him into further trouble, but all that comes out is wordless, senseless screaming, all there is next is more of the same.
He feels lightheaded when it finally stops, and foolishly he's grateful, breathing in heaving, shuddering sobs with a sickening wet sound trailing them each way. It's a violent full body shiver that shows him the next thing to fear, the warm palms braced against his neck, and his screwed shut eyes fly open. Not in time.
He screams, and then screams again, higher, desperate, voice cracking and vocal cords tearing, when the changes start. Like his bones dissolving from the napalm set across his skin, crisping black into neat diamond shapes like a razor drawn the wrong way, muscles liquefying and evaporating under the heat. Crushed and rolled out at the same time, pulled until he snaps, sensation he doesn't even have words or thoughts for. He screams, pushing air out as fast as he pulls it in.
He doesn't even notice that the power has gone out, doesn't notice the light as anything separate from what's happening to him, expecting the broiling heat to come from somewhere within his sense memory, somewhere impossible, somewhere...
Whether it's the changeover or the missing stair of relief that does it, he falls gratefully back into unconsciousness, sagging bonelessly in the chair despite no longer being restrained, blood dripping from the ruin of his face.]
Spam - CW: gore and fire damage imagery in this tag
He feels lightheaded when it finally stops, and foolishly he's grateful, breathing in heaving, shuddering sobs with a sickening wet sound trailing them each way. It's a violent full body shiver that shows him the next thing to fear, the warm palms braced against his neck, and his screwed shut eyes fly open. Not in time.
He screams, and then screams again, higher, desperate, voice cracking and vocal cords tearing, when the changes start. Like his bones dissolving from the napalm set across his skin, crisping black into neat diamond shapes like a razor drawn the wrong way, muscles liquefying and evaporating under the heat. Crushed and rolled out at the same time, pulled until he snaps, sensation he doesn't even have words or thoughts for. He screams, pushing air out as fast as he pulls it in.
He doesn't even notice that the power has gone out, doesn't notice the light as anything separate from what's happening to him, expecting the broiling heat to come from somewhere within his sense memory, somewhere impossible, somewhere...
Whether it's the changeover or the missing stair of relief that does it, he falls gratefully back into unconsciousness, sagging bonelessly in the chair despite no longer being restrained, blood dripping from the ruin of his face.]