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technomancer[It'd been a simple miscalculation that got them captured. Lack of information on what they were getting into, a trap they couldn't get out of so easily. Normally, not a big deal.
Except the man behind it knew them, created them, had the exact counter-measures for Lethe's power and Vivian's strength. The mind control collar on Lethe, the sapping machine he strapped Vivian into. The hours, Vivian vaguely recalls, of having his vitality sucked from him with magic that blocked his ability to command the machines.
More vividly he remembers the scenes of Atum with Lethe in his lap or at his feet, a mindless puppet having his hair stroked as he rode or sucked Atum's dick as Atum funneled Vivian's life into Lethe, the slow process of making Lethe immortal while killing Vivian.
It was those bright hot flashes of lucidity and the fury accompanying them that eventually gave Vivian the one moment of blinding rage potent enough to break his own confines, blood dripping from him and not healing from every self inflicted wound as he tore out the bindings and needles with his bare hands. Free of the suppressing cage he had enough presence of mind to send Atum's base into chaos, haphazardly ordering the computers to do what they could, lead him to Lethe, keep everyone out of his way. Atum had measures in place for that, manual overrides and a base not so wholly run on modern technology, but it was enough to get him to Lethe, to get him to rewrite, frantically, the collar commanding Lethe to obey his voice, not Atum's, and to get them to a shuttle.
The other ships, at least, he could disable with a thought, giving them the time they needed to get out, head far away faster than they could be pursued.
It's where they are now, Vivian commanding the ship on course and collapsing in one of the cabins with Lethe in his arms. He's still bleeding, over Lethe, over the blankets, naked and wild looking. Exhausted. It's been days strapped in Atum's device, his own supernatural vitality sucked from him every hour, minute, second, non-stop, a constant drain. Weeks? He doesn't know. Time flows oddly when you're literally dying, being killed, but constantly.
What Lethe's been through in that time he can only vaguely guess, whatever he didn't see, it makes him furious, keeps the adrenaline fueling him where his strength is otherwise spent, enough that after a moment to just be relieved they're heading away from there, he's sliding his fingers over the collar, trying to command it open. But it's half magic and he doesn't have the key. It's only luck, maybe, that he could make it register his voice as the one Lethe should obey.]
Except the man behind it knew them, created them, had the exact counter-measures for Lethe's power and Vivian's strength. The mind control collar on Lethe, the sapping machine he strapped Vivian into. The hours, Vivian vaguely recalls, of having his vitality sucked from him with magic that blocked his ability to command the machines.
More vividly he remembers the scenes of Atum with Lethe in his lap or at his feet, a mindless puppet having his hair stroked as he rode or sucked Atum's dick as Atum funneled Vivian's life into Lethe, the slow process of making Lethe immortal while killing Vivian.
It was those bright hot flashes of lucidity and the fury accompanying them that eventually gave Vivian the one moment of blinding rage potent enough to break his own confines, blood dripping from him and not healing from every self inflicted wound as he tore out the bindings and needles with his bare hands. Free of the suppressing cage he had enough presence of mind to send Atum's base into chaos, haphazardly ordering the computers to do what they could, lead him to Lethe, keep everyone out of his way. Atum had measures in place for that, manual overrides and a base not so wholly run on modern technology, but it was enough to get him to Lethe, to get him to rewrite, frantically, the collar commanding Lethe to obey his voice, not Atum's, and to get them to a shuttle.
The other ships, at least, he could disable with a thought, giving them the time they needed to get out, head far away faster than they could be pursued.
It's where they are now, Vivian commanding the ship on course and collapsing in one of the cabins with Lethe in his arms. He's still bleeding, over Lethe, over the blankets, naked and wild looking. Exhausted. It's been days strapped in Atum's device, his own supernatural vitality sucked from him every hour, minute, second, non-stop, a constant drain. Weeks? He doesn't know. Time flows oddly when you're literally dying, being killed, but constantly.
What Lethe's been through in that time he can only vaguely guess, whatever he didn't see, it makes him furious, keeps the adrenaline fueling him where his strength is otherwise spent, enough that after a moment to just be relieved they're heading away from there, he's sliding his fingers over the collar, trying to command it open. But it's half magic and he doesn't have the key. It's only luck, maybe, that he could make it register his voice as the one Lethe should obey.]
