#munsmacedwriting

🪓 Hello! Welcome to my account, you can call me Mun. I am a digital artist and run a few roleplay accounts, such as @thefoxkin (Ren Hana), @dryrotlacry (Lawrence Oleander), and @goffardinterprises (Mr. Goffard, Derek's father)!

In which you help Lawrence give his cat, Poppyseed, a little treat.

1,054 words.

-> Warnings: Descriptions of mutilation, blood, graphic violence

It had been a few hours since you found yourself tied to a chair, forced to stare out at the various plants in front of you. Bruises marked your thighs and back. The tape that bound your wrists was starting to dig into your skin and cutting the circulation. How long would you stay there? How long was Lawrence thinking of keeping you?

But the soft padding of cat paws caught your attention. You felt the weight of something soft on your lap; Her name was Poppyseed, right? You heard Lawrence refer to her as such before he left. A black cat who belonged to your captor, the absence of fur where rutualistic looking scars laid on her body. She was purring, kneading your scarred thighs with her paws. It hurt, especially with the way her claws would stab the already abused skin. Still, it was a distraction from your forced captivity.

"Guess she likes you, huh?"

His words hung tightly in the air behind you. Tense, you listened to the way he dropped what you thought to be a bag on a table. When he finally came into view, it was hard to tell what he was feeling. His expression was not one you had seen him make before. Was he upset about something?

When Poppyseed spotted him, she jumped down to his legs, erasing the less-than-pleased look off his face. The corner of his lip smoothened into a smile and he knelt down to scratch under her chin.

"She's a pretty special cat," he murmured quietly. "You must be someone really special...to get her to trust you like that."

He didn't look at you, but you could see his expression faltering.

"Yknow, I feel like a bad owner sometimes,” his words came out casually, the type of casual you use when catching up with a friend. “She doesn't have any toys…always playing with whatever she can find. She's even destroyed a few of my plants," he gave a little chuckle to that, his eyes never moving from her.

"She could use something fun to play with.."

Just as he said that, Poppyseed escaped from his grasp, landing on your lap. She nuzzled her head into your chest. This would've been a sweet scene if it weren't for the fact that you could see the way Lawrence's vein twitched under his brow. He stood up abruptly. You took your time tilting your head to look up at him.

With his mouth pressed into a thin line, he stared at you. Hard. Poppyseed didn't seem to pick up on the shift in atmosphere and continued to rub her face against your chest. Your eyes moved down to his hand and that was when you finally noticed how tightly he had it clenched. Any tighter and his nails would've opened up the skin of his palm.

His finger twitched and you returned your attention to his face, which was now focused on something behind you. Whatever it was, it turned on the lightbulb behind his eyes.

His lips melted into a faint, self satisfied smirk.

"Maybe you could help me with that."

As Poppyseed abandoned your lap, he walked to a spot behind you. Sweat trickled down your temple; you didn't know what he was up to, but by the sounds of it, you concluded he opened a closet you spotted earlier. The sounds of his hands rummaging through it finally stopped and he whispered out a pleased hum.

When he walked back into frame, he was holding a pair of shears.

Before you could even speak, Lawrence opened his mouth. "She likes you."

His eyes dropped to his shears.

“You like her too, don't you?”

He disappeared behind you once more. You could feel him fumbling with the tape that kept your wrists together, setting one of your hands free and holding it in his own, cold hand.

“You wouldn't mind giving her a gift, then?”

You couldn't tell what exactly he was doing. He was mumbling a few things under his breath but nothing you could make sense of. One could hope that Lawrence had a sudden change of heart, that he was about to cut the rest of the tape with those shears and let you go. But that never came.

"One should be enough," he whispered softly to himself.

Before you could even ask what he was talking about, you felt the coolness of steel on your pointer. Panic and confusion began to pool in your chest, a tightness that hinted your body knew what was to come before you did.

A single snap, followed by the wet crunch of bone and flesh. The blade tore through your skin, warm blood sputtering and speckling Lawrence's hands and the shears. The shock hit you before the pain ever did, a buzzing numbness surrounding the spot your severed finger used to occupy. You didn't start screaming until Lawrence walked back into frame with said finger in his hand.

"Stop shouting" he said. The bluntness of his tone made you force your teeth into your tongue. Tears welled up in your eyes and threatened to spill; the pain was getting unbearable by the second.

Lawrence didn't pay any mind to that, his attention solely on the digit in his hand. His gaze softened as he looked at it. It was the same look he would give his plants whenever he would water them.

His focus soon shifted to Poppyseed. For a second, you thought this man was capable of worse. That this cat would become a victim to him as well. When he knelt down and dangled your finger above Poppyseed's head, it suddenly dawned on you what he was about to do.

You watched as he dropped your finger into the cat's mouth.

Your stomach churned at the sight. How could he do this so casually? He was looking at Poppyseed so sickeningly fond that it tightened the knot in your stomach. He was whispering something to her but by that point, the loss of blood had begun to take its toll. You felt dizzy and disoriented.

Lawrence gave you one final look before your head lolled forward, the darkness already pulling you into its embrace. As you tried to fight it, the sound of his hushed voice followed.

“You're really pretty.”

His voice trailed fondly.

“Maybe that's why she likes you so much?”

It affects his emotional stability and makes him experience unpredictable mood swings, becoming excessively angry, sad, apathetic at the smallest things. He can hardly regulate his emotions anymore and it will only get worse from there. If his social skills and social withdrawal were bad before, they will get progressively worse if he keeps going back to The River.

As the rot develops, his sense of identity and memory will be affected. He will experience pretty severe amnesia, and while at first it was only short term memory, it will spread to his long term memories- his history, personal facts, even his own name and people he considers friends. His identity will become muddled and he may, at some point, live in a weird state of existence where he doesn't know what or who he is (this would be in later stages when he's becoming The Lich).

The only real thing he may have a connection to is the river.