"Don't-Don't touch me,"
In which Noah Harden despised being touched and is dragged in front of three thrones. Noah took one look at those blinking red eyes and was certain he'd made a mistake in vacationing in Volterra. That is, until he realised th...
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"Stop flailing, we're not letting go," a voice to his left hummed as though it was the most amusing thing in the world and perhaps just to make a point, Noah buckled his hips wildly and dragged his feet. His shoes would be wrecked by the time they reached their mystery destination.
It was safe to say that his day wasn't going to plan. A laugh pitched from his right and it coursed a bolt of anger through him, causing him to kick out with all his strength. His legs met an unforgivable surface, perhaps a wall and the jolt of it slammed through his bones.
Of all the worries floating around inside his head, being nabbed off the street by cloaked figures was rather low on his list of internal nightmares. Regardless, there was still hope. Perhaps they'd do them all a mighty favour and wedge a bullet in his brain, something he'd been far too cowardly to do. His lips twitched with amusement beneath the hood they'd shoved him into.
What was the purpose of the hood? If they were going to kill him anyway, why would it matter if he saw where he was going? The thought blackened his mood but he was aware that they rose several floors in an elevator so the possibility of chucking himself from a high window was still an option. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop fighting against the two boulders on either side of him. An innate sense of self-preservation, the thing that had stopped him from doing something about his condition before now.
"Where are we going?"
"Keep asking questions, it's funny how angry you get when nobody answers," a different voice mused and he slammed from side to side between them. If he wasn't careful, he'd pop his arms out their sockets and they didn't seem to care. How did they have such an unforgivable grip? Shortly, it didn't seem to matter as they burst through a set of doors into a silent void of a room.
They pushed him down with enough strength to snap his bones, he felt them protest but the instant his trouser-covered knees crashed down, he was struggling to get back up, legs twisting and buckling beneath him with the force they continued to apply to his shoulders. It was a futile effort, as had been his protests all the way there but he wasn't about to be kidnapped without some form of riot.
"Thank you, Felix, Demetri," again with those ungodly voices. Devils with the voices of angels and he wished he could see who it was who'd dragged him from his peaceful hotel room. Continuing to writhe with his arms tightly gripped behind his back, Noah prayed for an easy death. Cowardly, he knew but he didn't particularly care. Just because he didn't want to be alive anymore didn't mean he wanted it to hurt. "So this is our new friend?" Friend was a wildly inappropriate term for whatever this was and Noah huffed, the hood full of his already-breathed air. Perhaps suffocation, then.
"He hasn't come easily, Master," either Felix or Demetri responded and Noah didn't have the heart to care which. Tugging again, Noah began weighing up the positives and negatives of having arms. Maybe they'd rip them right off and he could dart out a window before the pain struck... He doubted it.
