Sam’s hand on his back didn’t make him feel any better. It only made it worse. He then thought about all of the effort he put in to not end up dead in this place and make it back to Earth. Exceed. How easy is it to say that word? He tried and exceeded. And then ran up against reality. There was always someone better in this world. He was no match for these monsters. 5 Earth months in a dark cave honing his will to “exceed” and it’s shatter the first real life threatening situation he finds himself in.
He hated that
He hated the powerlessness
He hated his weakness.
He hated how he ALWAYS half assed everything.
His self loathing reached a peak as he stared at the hunting knife. The man he won this off of was dead on the road. He twirled it in his fingers and pondered that for a moment. He had been forced to watch all those people die. And now because he was weak he'd be forced to watch Sam die, or die in a ditch right along next to her. He didn't want to die on this alien world. Seizing his knife he cut into his flesh on his chest and cut and ripped a strip of flesh off. It hurt less than he feared. Though he still didn’t see how he was going to win, at least he started the game.
Varngus quickly cut away another strip on his chest, right next to the first one.
Jace, seizing the momentum and no longer thinking about what is going to happen shortly, made another cut and ripped another strip of flesh off.
Varngus cut another strip, this one from his arm
Jace cut a strip from his arm. The pain was blinding
Varngus cut another strip from his stomach this time
Jace cut a strip from his stomach, then stopped his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold the knife any longer. He no longer was thinking about anything. All his mind was focused on was the blinding pain of ripping flesh off his body. He was flinching from it, and was getting very light headed. He still hadn’t made a sound honestly he wasn’t really conscious of making noise or not anymore.
Varngus removed his pants and boots, and sat back down nude, then circumcised himself.
Jace stared in disbelief. He almost laughed, he felt an insane laugh bubbling up after seeing that. This was insanity. He might not have been in that cave anymore but he still was in [hell]. He wasn't even sure what he should do anymore, but then figured dying naked was no different then dying with clothing on. So he stood up and removed his pants and boots and held his own dick, which already was circumcised. He looked at Varngus, by the rules of the game, unable to ask the question. Varngus seemed to understand the question and simply cut off a strip of flesh from the sole of his own foot. Jace was shaken at how Varngus not only circumcised himself without a peep, but then CREDITED him with the cut for free. How confident can you be you’ll win?
Mechanically, Jace peeled the flesh from the sole of his foot. This cut turned jace’s sight red with pain. All he could do was shriek soundlessly at the pain of tearing this flesh. Time seemed to stop. Part of him, in the deep dark recesses of his mind was shrieking silently ‘stop, just stop, no more, I can’t handle anymore, just let him kill the slave, what does it matter anymore. Stop just stop. If you stop you can be healed, stop.’ The small voice was eroding his will badly, not that he had much will beyond a keen sense of self-loathing. He knew he wasn’t doing this anymore to live. He was doing this to punish himself for how weak he was. A solitary act of defiance before his life came to an end. He knew he was crying. He could feel tears on his face.
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Yet somehow no noise came from his lips and he was able to see that Varngus was making another cut, on the other sole of his foot. He was terrified of that pain, yet he couldn’t stop his trembling hands from making the cut. It took him 4 tries to make the cut. It took two more to rip the skin off.
His own blood was starting to make a pool on the ground under him. The bastard across from him was barely bleeding. He looked cool and calm as if these cuts were happening to someone else. Just before he gave in to despair, he noted a bead of sweat on the forehead of the young man across from him. That single bead of sweat. It wasn’t hot enough for the sun to cause that. It cleared his mind. Like an oasis full of water in the desert to a man dying of thirst, he felt hope spring into his heart, just a glimmer. ‘That’s right, why would the Kindred play this game with each other if they could never lose?’ He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm his breathing. The only thing he could think of was the “pulse of the world” breathing so he used that to calm himself, he found his mind drifting to the spell form
The intricacies of the form seemed to separate his mind from the pain in his body, his shaking came to a stop. He gripped the dagger in a firm hand, and waited for Varngus to make another cut. All the while for some reason he kept spinning the spell form in his head as if he was looking for a glyph. There was a glyph he had never seen but for some reason he knew was there. He started narrowing down his search toward glyphs he suspected were related. Life, definitely life. Suddenly he stopped spinning the form, and sure enough right in front of his eyes was the word “courage”. Turning the glyph again he found more words related to the mind, as well as the glyph for blood. He was right. There were a LOT more words hidden in the design.
Heading back to courage he studied the design absently while watching Varngus make another cut. This time he winced. It was under his arm by his armpit. With the glyph in his mind and breathing settled he made the cut without even a flinch on his face. He wondered if he had lost his mind. He had to have lost his mind, he was flaying his own skin. So this meant he might have been dying, because it simply didn’t hurt anymore.
Varngus started making a cut down on his hip next to his manhood, and a yelp escaped from his lips.
Looking at the Kindred youth he pulled what little skin he had left from his circumcision up, it wasn’t really enough for a cut, and cut that remaining skin off his dick, then he made the cut on his hip, assuming the length and design of the cut based on the cut Varngus already attempted. He made both cuts with steady hands and a broken mind, while a glyph form spun absently inside his mind. He had to be insane. Could he be insane? When did he become insane? his thoughts were scattered, his head still felt light.
This endless contest was at an end. Now he’d find out if Kindred really kept their word. For some reason he didn't really care anyway. As long as they could leave and someone would heal these wounds. The blood loss was a bit much and made his mind swim. And he supposed it was supposed to be hurting too.