The Aftermath

All she could do in the face of her captor was try and mock him out of contempt, unable to physically disobey given how mangled she was. Sephiran knew she would retaliate if she had the strength to do so, which was why he already decided to keep her in a state similar to this. Eventually, after he had broken her into submission, he would allow her privileges. But for now, his main concern was to keep her alive enough to play with, and luckily, his bird could help with that. Though Sephiran wasn’t against fucking dead bodies.

Looming over her, Sephiran peered down at her face, perplexed by the hatred lingering in her eyes. He stayed just out of reach, ensuring she couldn’t stretch out and bite him if she suddenly found the strength to try. “Don’t worry,” His voice suddenly became smoother, lacking that monotonic hum it held before. "I’ll make you into one.” He took a seat beside her, making sure to make contact with her back. To infuriate her with his touch. He watched her glance at the herbs in front of her before turning back to him. His head cocked at the mention of killing herself, which was a foreign concept to the Saxe boy.

Raising a paw, Sephiran placed it on the back of Aurelia’s head, before pressing his claws into her skin and raking it down the length of her nape. “Kill yourself?” He questioned, raising his paw to repeat the action. His claws raked over bite marks, causing scabs to dislodge and her skin to weep. “You think I would allow that?” This time, his paw trailed down the length of her spine, until it rested on her thigh. There were already claw marks there from his assault last night, given he needed something to hold onto when he flipped her into different positions - not that he cared.

After placing his other paw on her shoulder for leverage, Sephiran maneuvered his paw from her outer thigh to her inner thigh, making sure to brush against her abdomen to ignite a wave of panic.  “I decide when you die.” Slowly, Sephiran pulled her thigh back with his paw, exposing her abdomen until he felt the resistance of her hip being fully abducted. “And until then,” He pulled back more, adding pressure to the already stressed joint, which was surely painful. “I suggest you use whats in front of you to patch your wounds.” As he spoke to her and stressed her joint, his eye contact with her never wavered. He was waiting for a crack in her expression, anticipating an outcry from the pain that was surely becoming severe. Any more pressure and the joint would dislodge from the socket, resulting in a potentially debilitating injury.

Just how far was she willing to go to defy him?  

"Speech"