#zever

Rylandaran people were just so fascinating, really, with the magic of other gods swimming beneath their skin. As Daniel began slicing into the pale, delicate skin beneath those feathers, wine-dark eyes flickered open. One of Daniel’s hands drifted through Zever’s blond hair. “Good morning, King Zever.” He cooed, watching the man take in his new surroundings. 

“What--” He started, quickly seeming to realize where the steadily increasing pain was coming from. “What do you want from me?” He asked, trying to subtly test the restraints at his ankles and wrists. He noticeably kept the wing under the blade still, and Daniel kept tracing a line along the powerful muscles. 

Taron had fought. William had been uncomfortable. But Zever? Zever just seemed like he was studying Daniel in return. 

“It’s very simple,” The archangel said, tilting his head. “Taron, was full of life and challenge, and as I understand it, I and he both have you to thank for that.” He reached for a scalpel, watching the subtle, almost-too-quick-to-catch tensing of Zever’s back. “And William, he was just as fiery--at first, anyway.”

“I want to know how you fare. Does it run in the family?” Daniel started peeling back the feathery skin as he kept slicing, revealing muscle and the slow ooze of blood. “My, you were in the military, correct? Your wings are so well-developed, you can see the power you’re capable of.” He slicked a finger along the muscle, feeling how it unconsciously tensed beneath his touch.

Zever’s eyes narrowed, drifting over Daniel’s golden feathers. “I’m not going to tell you anything, you know.” He said, plainly. “I know how torture works, you aren’t the first to try.” 

Daniel just laughed.

When the back of the wing was fully exposed, Daniel began slicing through the muscle. The stark white bone peeked through the blood that had began to leak down into Zever’s feathers. He could hear the man breathing carefully, measured and deliberate, even as Daniel’s fingers wrapped around the bone. “Your pain tolerance must be phenomenal, as a war survivor.”

And so he twisted his wrist. The hollow bone snapped as easily as a twig, and Zever jolted with a strangled hiss. “Sto-op this, immediately.” He demanded, wheezing as Daniel took the next bit of bone in his hand and snapped it just like that. 

“Oh, King Zever, is this too much already?” Daniel asked, punctuating the question with a few more sections being snapped. “Is this already past your tolerance?” He effortlessly worked his way down the wing, snapping feathers as he got further down towards the tip of the wing.

“Fu-uck you.” Zever spat, sweat starting to drip down his forehead. “I can--can handle more than this, stultus.” 

Daniel hummed in response, walking away. “Oh, can you, now?” He asked, taking a bottle from one of his shelves. “I wonder--you see, humans report burning as one of the most intolerable pains to experience. Does that hold true for Rylandarans? Do you experience that sort of pain?”

As Daniel walked back, he saw the blood start to drain from Zever’s face. Delicately, methodically, he began pouring the fluid over both the flayed open wing and over the still whole wing. Each feather was soaked, every bit of twitchy muscle coated. “I’d like you to stay awake, by the way.” He said, striking two matches. “I’m sure you don’t want to have to repeat this test, either, our time is quite valuable, and we have so much to cover.”

He dropped the matches, and Zever arched. He screamed, breaking and strong, thrashing against his restraints as the flames raced over his feathers and bone, biting into his skin. Daniel smiled, picking up the notebook he’d prepared for Zever.