'lunchtime fun! [Open]

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

It was lunchtime, good. Not many people would be around. Tylar walked down the corridor bolt upright, looking behind and around her every few seconds to check nobody was there. A few times, there was another student standing right behind her, and she'd shrieked and flattened herself against the wall, until they walked quickly away. She wasn't sure how sure she'd screamed, but it was probably loud enough to deafen anyone too close. Apparently, she had 'a good pair of lungs'. Translated: she talked too loudly, but people couldn't tell her that, because she had a disability and they didn't want to discriminate. Watching people trying to pretend that she didn't have hearing aids...it was hilarious. Especially as their voices got gradually louder, until they were shouting.

When she reached the common room, she walked in, looking around nervously for other people. She couldn't see anyone, and she hurried into the centre of the room, squinting up at the lightbulb. It was going to take some effort, but she was sure she could manage. The only problem would be trying to reach it. There was several tables dotted around the room; small, coffee tables, but they'd give her an extra boost. Dragging the nearest one she could find to just below the light, she checked for people - there weren't any, good - and pulled off her left trainer. Stretching her hand upwards, she could just about reach the light.

Smashing the shoe into the light took some effort, and she wondered how long she'd have before security saw her on the cameras that always seemed to be watching. Two hits...three hits... Tylar swore loudly. She hadn't turned the light off; if she'd managed to break through, she'd probably have electrocuted herself. Jumping off the table, she ran to the light-switch by the main door, then back and resumed her assault of the light. It took three more hits until it broke; there was a smash and a shower of glass on her head. Dropping her shoe, she took the largest piece she could find and curled up on the floor beside the table. It didn't take long for her to rip the scarred skin of her forearm open. How long would she be in isolation for because of this? Quite a while. She kept slashing at the vein, moving up her arm towards her shoulder slowly. The more cuts she made, the more she'd be able to pick at when she couldn't get hold of glass...

Outfit.

[Riordan Shonski]

Rio entered the room, glancing around and squinting into the dark. Well, that wasn't helpful. Not helpful at all. His first thought was Jess; had she found some new, inventive way of accidentally drawing attention to herself? But... no, this was far too original for her. He knew she didn't like having the lights on - that thought made him smirk - but she wasn't dumb enough to go around turning off the lights of every room she came into. So that ruled out dear Jessie. Which left... well, no-one he could think of, except perhaps Morph staging an ambush for someone, but he doubted that, somehow. Morph was more of a get-up-and-go kind of guy. Planning and forethought didn't exactly rule the day when it came to him.

So, it wasn't anyone he knew, unless he'd seriously misjudged Faye or Leah, but that wasn't likely. Stepping into the room, he looked around carefully. He couldn't see... ah. The light was smashed, and he could see fragments of glass lying on the floor and scattered across a coffee table that had obviously been moved into the center of the room. And curled up on the floor behind the table was a blonde girl, slashing violently at her wrists with a large shard of glass already stained with blood. Raising an eyebrow, Rio called over to her. "Hey... what's with the blackout? Couldn't you have found something slightly more practical?" He wondered what she was here for. Depression, probably, although he didn't rule out delusional, like Laura, bipolar, self-defeating, obsessive compulsive, or several other disorders. Walking further into the room, he shut the door behind him and settled himself down on one of the sofas, looking at her through the gloom.

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

Tylar was completely unaware that there was anyone else in the room; her attention was all on the relief the came every time she drew the jagged shard of glass over her pale skin, and watching the blood slowly well up. It always took a minute. She'd cut, and when no blood would appear immediately, she'd do it again, by which time the blood would start to rise on the first cut. You would have thought that she'd have learnt, just to wait for a minute, and save herself quite a bit of pain, but she always forgot by the next time she got hold of a knife. Or a lightbulb. As she made the sixth cut, one of the deepest, the lighting in the room changed abruptly; it had been half-lit, from the light in the corridor leading to the common room, and that light had since gone.

Leaping to her feet, she held the glass in a defensive position, spinning around in the gloom. One thing for not being able to hear - her vision was better than most peoples, apparently. It was dark, and it took her eyes a minute to find the dark silhouette, sprawled out on a sofa in a casual position. What the ---? Her breathing began to come faster and her eyes flicked to one of the lamps on a small table, in-between two chairs, with a lamp on. Darting towards it, she flicked it on, having to fumble around before she found the switch. Her vision was good, but not good enough for her to lip-read in the dark, and she needed to work out if this boy was a threat or just a...well, what else would he be? Who sat and watched someone cut themselves?


Whirling back to Rio, Tylar half-crouched, ready to attack if she needed. " What the fuck are you doing? " She stepped slightly closer, keeping her eyes fixed on his lips. " What the hell is wrong with you? Who watches... " Her voice trailed off as she realized that to continue, she'd have to ask who watched someone cut. Which would mean admitting that she cut. Why was he watching her? This just proved it; people did watch her and talk about her and laugh at her... Hissing, she took several steps forward quickly, so she was standing about a metre from him, the glass pointing at his face. " Why were you watching me? I know you were! What do you want? " Her voice rose and slurred slightly more than usual; not that she noticed. She was quite good at speaking for someone that had never heard a voice before, apparently, but her words were still slightly...off. Tylar didn't understand how; that was just what she'd been told.

[Riordan Shonski]

He jumped when she whirled around, pointing the shard of glass at him. Well, he hadn't expected that. She appeared not to have heard him at all. Raising his hands placatingly, he sat further back, watching the shard of glass warily. "I did say something, but you apparently didn't hear me. Sorry I made you jump. I'm not gonna hurt you," he told her, speaking quietly, unsure if she was actually deaf or if she'd just managed to... well, not hear him walking into a room and speaking loudly? Deaf, then, almost certainly. Hopefully, she could lip read, or he was going to be trying to write notes and ward off a bloody piece of glass at the same time. The prospect didn't appeal.

He stayed where he was on the sofa, watching her cautiously, hands in the air to show he wasn't carrying anything. Not that they'd let people walk down the corridors carrying things, God forbid! But still. Apparently paranoia was a thing with her, so it was best to try and keep her calm, or he might end up with as many stitches as she was going to need. And that would be a bitch, since he'd just managed to get out of the cast for his broken arm. Hopefully, she'd calm down - provided she could lip read, that was, or he was more than a little screwed. Brilliant. It was going to be another one of those days, then. Maybe he ought to carry a bag around with him with a suit of armour in it or something, just in case something like this happened. Or at least, a gun would be nice.

Mentally shaking himself, he looked up at Tylar warily, still unsure what, precisely, she was planning on doing with that weapon in her hands. While Rio could be very reckless about certain things, paranoid girls with blood flowing down their arms and pointing extremely sharp objects at him was not one of them. He'd rather keep his face intact, no matter how amusing they could be.

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

Tylar watched as he spoke, trying to read his lips and watch his arms to check he wasn't going to attack her at the same time. It was quite hard to do, but she got the gist of what he was saying; 'I'm lying to you so I can hurt you when you're not looking.' Maybe he hadn't used those exact words, but that was what he meant. Without noticing it, she hissed at him, taking a step closer and waving the glass menacingly. What had he been doing? Watching her, so he could talk about her? Or maybe he was recording her, so he could show the staff what she'd been doing... No, that couldn't happen. Narrowing her eyes, she came even closer; she was about a metre away now. If she needed, she could pounce with the glass.

She was slightly scared by her homicidal thoughts, but pushed the worry to the back of her mind. She was more worried about this boy, who was planning to blackmail her, with the evidence that she'd been cutting. Tylar took a final step closer, her legs almost touching Rio's. " Why were you watching me? I'm not an idiot. I know what you're trying to do! " Extending her left arm slightly, the glass now inches from the boys face, she glared as viciously as she could. If he wouldn't tell her what he was doing... Well, she was going to stab him in the face.

Changing her angle slightly - she was now aiming for the cheek, where it wouldn't permanently maim him - she considered stabbing him in the ear instead. That way, he'd see what it was like not being able to hear when freaks like him crept up behind you. Tylar cast that idea off. She didn't know what she'd have to do to permanently main him; you'd probably have to go pretty deep into the ear for that. And someone, she couldn't picture Rio lying down and letting her insert the piece of glass. No, he seemed more the type to fight back. " Tell me where your camera or whatever is, and I won't stab you, okay? "

[Riordan Shonski]

Holy shit! Rio eyed the piece of glass warily. He had been in situations like this before, with people pointing broken beer bottles at him and the like, but they were often men, and more often than not, drunk, and easier to talk out of attacking. And generally not deaf. And quite often, the girlfriend or daughter had stepped in to defend him, something Rio found extremely amusing. But right now, he was staring at the angry face of a girl who pointing a piece of light bulb at him and looked perfectly willing to do more than point it at him.
An idea occurred to him. Camera? Well... this could be more fun that he thought. She was fairly small, not very strong, he noticed. He could handle her easily enough... leaping forwards, he grabbed her wrist, yanked her forwards and pinned her down on the sofa, wrenching the glass out of her grip as he did so. Beautifully done. He grabbed both wrists in one hand, holding her arms still, pointing the glass at her throat, smiling nastily at her. "Don't even think about screaming," he growled at her. He grasped her wrists tighter, holding them hard enough to bruise, and shifted slightly, making it harder for her to kick. She would probably scream; they always did, but it was worth trying to keep her quiet for a little longer. The shred of glass touched her throat, the jagged end drawing a tiny bead of blood.

Hm. Cameras? He decided to mention it. Let her carry on believing that he had one, let her go on worrying about it for the rest of her life. "You can look for it, later," he told her musingly. "You won't find it, but you can try if you like..."

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

Tylar jabbed the piece of glass closer to Rio's throat at the same moment he went for her arm. Her wrist was closer to him, easy to grab. Vulnerable. Using that word in connection with herself made her angrier, pulling away as he pushed her onto the sofa. It took her a moment to realize that her hands were tied - almost literally - and her weapon, the glass, had left her grip. She felt the sharp end, the one that she'd dragged along her own arms, pushing into her throat. Eyes widening, she struggled, pulling her arms towards her body and hissing when she realized she couldn't, that the boy was stronger than her.

At his words she narrowed her eyes. Like she'd scream, anyway? "I only scream when I'm having fun, jerk," she spat, eyes scanning all possible escape routes. Which were few, really. Few meaning nil. Tylar pushed her head, so it was hanging over the top of the sofa. That position made her neck feel horribly exposed and she shifted, trying to find a way she could not offer the scary boy more places to stick glass into her. There weren't many. Eventually, she settled for sitting bolt upright, chin down, just touched the top of Rio's hand. The glass scraped against her throat and she winced, suddenly realizing that she should probably be scared. Could he cut her artery open, with enough force? Maybe. Tylar was a cutter, but wasn't interested in being murdered, which made her less enthusiastic about the glass then she'd been earlier. It was hard to speak, both from her throat being dry and from the makeshift knife against it, but she managed, swallowing uncomfortably a few times. "Get the fuck off me, okay? Now."

Her wrists were aching, and she yanked them away again, wondering if she could bite Rio. Probably not. Her head would have to move to that, and she might be able to, but she would end up with a big piece of glass lodged in her windpipe, the idea of which she didn't relish. Instead, she settled back, stretching her legs back and doing her best to enjoy the situation. After all, there wasn't anything she could do about it, was there? If her eyes hadn't been her ears as well, she would have closed them, completing her expression of calm. "Mind twisting my wrists a bit more? It's not quite...satisfying enough."

At his mention of cameras, she stiffened, automatically twisting her head from side-to-side in search of them, and biting down on her lip when she felt her skin give way. A small cut, but her throat wasn't somewhere she wanted to be scarred. Both obvious and potentially life-threatening, not that the cuts on her wrists were doing her any good. She struggled with words for a minute, glaring at him, before speaking quietly, in a pleading tone. "Please tell me? I can't have cameras... Please?" Her voice was desperate, matching her expression of horror. "I can't have cameras," she repeated, slightly louder. "I can't." Maybe if she said it enough times, he'd tell her...

[Riordan Shonski]

He smiled down at her, still holding the knife against her throat, not letting his surprise show through. So, she was a masochist? Paranoid, as well. Interesting combination... He moved, shifting so that he was slightly more comfortable, pulling the knife slightly away from her throat for fear of accidentally murdering her. He decided to go along with it, twisting her wrists harder, slowly and tortuously turning them in his hand, until they would go no further.

Giving her a faint smile, he purred, "No, there aren't any cameras here. It's just you and me... and a smashed lightbulb," he added, looking at the piece of glass in his hand thoughtfully. They didn't go for tight security here, did they? That suited him just fine, though, he thought, smirking at Tylar. He'd never met a masochist before, not a proper one. He'd met people who thought causing pain was kinky, and people who thought it was cool to pretend, but he'd never met anyone who actually got off on it. He was going to have fun with this.

He shifted again, pushing her further back against the sofa and resting his weight on it, leaning in closer, still twisting her arms, the glass now pressed close up against her throat. Now he was certain she wasn't going to scream and give them away... well, they had plenty of time until security turned up, and he had a knife. He could do more or less what he wanted with this girl, and probably get away with it with no consequences. The prospect was an appealing one, and he stared hard at Tylar, wondering what to do with her. If the masochism kept up, well, sex was more or less inevitable, and there were plenty of things he could think of that a sadist would do with a masochist that would be... enjoyable for both.

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

As Rio pulled the glass away from her throat, she relaxed. Pain was good; blood play was...not too bad. Dying of blood loss, on the other hand, wasn't nice, or so she'd heard. Her wrists twinged and she looked down, wincing when she saw them being twisted. Oh, fuck, that hurt... Sarah had liked to do that; twisting her wrists until she honestly thought they were going to break, often the day before a music lesson -it was seriously painful- but this boy had more strength than her girlfriend had had. The tingling shooting up and down her spine led her to give him a dubious look; he was so...male. Tylar wasn't sure if she liked guys or not... But he was here, willing to hurt her. Better at it than Layla, to be honest; he was just stronger. No, she'd put up with a guy for that.

The pain in his wrists made her swallow a few times, trying her best not to cry. Masochism didn't mean that she didn't feel pain; that it didn't affect her, aside from in a pleasurable way. It meant that she liked the sensation of being in pain, not being able to do anything about it... And of course, there was a direct correlation between pain and pleasure. The more she hurt, the better it felt. Odd, really, she mused. How something made her want to cry and fuck at the same time. Her arms twinged agonizingly as he turned them; close to breaking and reminding her that she didn't have time to wonder about why it felt good to hurt. Instead, she just relished the pain; gritting her teeth slightly as she pulled her wrists away from Rio, hissing and pushing them back towards him, the angle they were bent at almost unbearable. Tylar realized that she was swearing quietly, and stopped, smiling at the boy who was almost certainly a sadist. God, they were everywhere these days, just lying around in wait... Was it better or worse if their victims were willing? She bit her lip, wondering if she should ask, adjusting to the pain after a minute. No, not adjusting to it -it still killed- but...accepting it. Tylar knew it was there, but it was more at the back of her mind. It was easier for her when she was willing, although a sadist probably didn't care if it was easy or not.

His promise of no cameras made her smile, relaxing. He was vaguely like Layla, actually, just more male. And stronger. Would he like Layla? Did sadists get on? Tylar debated. She wouldn't like sleeping with another masochist, really. It'd be...boring. She disliked causing pain, personally, and it would ruin her fun if she had to keep hitting them. She didn't see how Layla did it; just was thankful that she did. It would be...lovely if she shared a room with Rio, though. He was so much more proficient at hurting her, something she hoped to take full advantage of. A sudden mental image of her, Layla and Rio crossed her mind, making her close her eyes and yank her arms back towards her, the pain almost quenching her desire. Would either of them go in for it? Maybe. If neither of them wanted to get hurt, they could always both attack her... The thought made her shiver. Maybe she'd suggest it to Layla. See if the girl knew of any other sadists or masochists. They could have a little club...

Smiling at the thought, she concentrated on Rio's lips as he finished his sentence, the part about the light-bulb making her eyes close briefly. "Well... Sounds good to me. A little public, though -" The glass was suddenly against her throat and Tylar stopped breathing for a second, trying to control it when she started again. If she breathed too much air in, too fast, her throat would press uncomfortably up against the blade, and she was already bleeding a little. Her words were slow and cautious, not wanting the wound to get any deeper. "- so, what about a dorm? We won't be interrupted there... And I have a lovely roommate. Layla, do you know her?" Tylar felt relaxed and happy, unusual when considering her position; arms twisted, close to breaking, glass at her throat. Being hurt was just the only time she ever felt alive... "She's...a lot like you, actually. Maybe a little better at causing pain..."

You met the nicest people in the strangest places, she thought, smiling blissfully at the boy that was making her feel faint with pain. Was there a way to make him hurt her more? Leaning forward -ignoring the way that mader her arms ache, ridiculously so; enough to make her feel faint- she whispered in his ear, moving back so she could read his reaction. "Come on...you have complete control. I can't do anything to stop you doing what you like... Hurt me. Please." If he was a sadist, like she thought, that was likely to spur him on. Of course, he might just go the other way and stop, just to spite her. Well, she always had Layla to fall back on if that was the case... The final, begging please at the end of her sentence made her cringe with embarrassment, but Tylar had been unable to stop herself. She just wanted to hurt until she screamed...

[Riordan Shonski]

Rio tilted his head, eying her slightly, and turned to look at the camera. He was forced to twist his torso to see it, which meant taking Tylar's hands with him, something he did happily. She was swearing to herself, apparently fairly satisfied now. Rio, however, wasn't. Not by a long shot. He bought the glass away from her throat, and stepped back, releasing her arms calmly. "Layla? I know her..." a slight smirk came to his lips. Sure, he knew her. Smart girl; a bit of a whore, but what could you do? He was willing to bet that she enjoyed having a masochist around, that was for sure.

Grabbing hold of Tylar's hand, he half-dragged her off the sofa, and started walking towards the dorms tucking the piece of glass into his pocket. Who knew, it might come in useful later on. Especially with a masochist. When they reached the dorm, he knocked first, hoping no-one was there. He'd deliberately avoided Leah's dorm; he didn't want to walk in on her with Tylar, or worse, have her walk in on him with Tylar. The first situation, he could bluff his way out of. The second one? Not so much, unless she was really, really desperate to believe him. It wasn't really worth the risk.

No-one answered the knock, so he pushed the door open, and entered the empty room, shutting the door behind them. Then he turned to Tylar, a faint smile dancing around his lips. "You only scream when you're having fun, huh? Let's see what we can do about that, then..." With those few words, he pinned her against the door, effectively barricading it, and one hand slid up her thigh. She was wearing jeans, which made it a little difficult to get to bare skin, but he'd get to that later. He grabbed a fistful of skin through the material, high up on her leg, squeezing it tightly, the other hand grabbing hold of her wrists - both of them - and twisting them savagely, something she appeared to have enjoyed before. As he did so, he watched her face, his own a blank mask, for her reaction.

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

Tylar pulled her arms towards her chest, massaging each with the other hand. God, it hurt to move them. The glass was moved and she relaxed, leaning forward as Rio stepped back and hoping that she hadn't done something wrong. Like suggesting that a girl was stronger than him... Well, he was meant to attack her for that, not get all upset and -oh. Okay. She followed happily, noticing the glass going into his pocket and glancing behind at the mess she'd left. A bit of blood, all that glass... No, Rio had got the best piece of glass; biggest and sharpest. That's why she'd picked it, and she could always steal it off him later if he wanted to keep it.

Not recognizing the dorm they were going to, Tylar hung behind as best she could with one hand trapped. It would be so embarrassing if someone was in there... The room was empty and she followed Rio in, jumping when he pushed her against the door and having an immediate adrenaline rush at his words. It was such a pity she was wearing jeans -they acted like a thick second skin, pointless- but she could always take them off later... The pain in her thigh made her gasp, looking down as he grabbed her wrists which had only just recovered from the last time he'd done that.

Her voice was slightly breathless as she spoke, betraying exactly how much her wrists hurt. "You'll have to do better than that if you do want to hear me scream..." For a second she paused, hesitating. Her ribs didn't hurt as much anymore -a lot less, as long as she breathed shallowly and didn't touch them- but it would kill if he touched that... If she asked him not to, then he would, for sure. Maybe if she explained that it was because a rib was broken (she thought) and she might faint from pain? And that was no fun for anybody... "So, Layla broke one of my ribs," she explained, casual as she could manage. "It's...sorta healed, I think. Don't touch that?" It was more a question than a command, and Tylar bit her lip. "I just don't want to not be able to breathe for a week again... And no breaking my wrists, arms, shoulders, okay? Because I'm a musician, and I need my arms." Maybe she'd scared him with her talk of breaking bones; not everyone went that far (unfortunately). On the other hand, he might deliberately go for her ribs, just because she'd asked -told- him not to. Sighing, she regarded the boy carefully, tensing every time he moved.

[Riordan Shonski]

Rio listened to her carefully, a faint smile dancing around his lips. Broken rib? That could be... interesting. His hand left her thigh, slipping gently up the side of her body to her neck, where his thumb stroked her cheek for a few seconds. His hand on her wrists raised slightly, pulling her arms upwards. She was shorter than him, a lot shorter, and that movement nearly lifted her up completely, putting a lot of strain on her arms. And his, for that matter, but he wasn't too bothered about it at the moment. He could get himself into a more comfortable position later on. His hand on her cheek moved suddenly, drawing back and smashing back into place, knocking her head hard to the side, then pinned it there.

He pushed himself a little closer, deliberately pushing his chest into hers, knocking against her broken rib. Releasing her arms, he dropped his hand to her stomach, sliding it up underneath her jacket. His fingers soon found a swollen spot that he assumed was the broken rib, and brushed over it, feather-light. Not hard enough to cause serious pain, but enough to scare her. He kept her head pinned against the door, his other hand flitting over her ribs lightly, each stroke of his hand becoming slightly firmer. He dragged his fingers across the sore spot once, twice, before pulling his hand away, reaching up and unzipping her jacket slowly.

While he did so, he turned her head slightly so she could look at him. "Oh, believe me, I will," he murmured, a ghost of a smile flitting about his lips. With that, he moved his hand again, slamming her head back against the wood, and pulled her jacket off, dropping it to the side, revealing her arms. His smile grew as he dug in his pocket for the piece of glass he had stolen. Lifting it up, he eyed it for a second, then lay it gently on her upper arm, on the soft skin near the shoulder, digging in the sharp edge. A thin line of blood welled up, and he pressed harder.

[Tylar Bethany Glade]

Tylar balanced precariously, almost on her tip-toes, feeling a sharp stab of pain in her wrists whenever she wobbled, which was frequently. The sudden rush of pain, from the back of head and the wall, made her gasp, her hearing aid delivering a rush of static. "Okay, I've told Layla this... It's not fun for either of us if I'm unconscious." Maybe it was fun for Rio -he might be into that stuff, she never knew- but it was painful for her. And not at all fun, if she wasn't awake to appreciate the fun.

As he pushed his chest closer to hers, a stab of pain went through her side, and she pushed her arms away ineffectually. "That hurts," she hissed, pulling away into the door. As her arms were dropped, she moved them to rest on Rio's shoulders, smiling up at him as she lowered herself into a more comfortable position. His hand, slipping up her jacket, made her shiver, narrowing her eyes when she felt his hand brush against her rib. It didn't hurt...but it could, if he wanted it to. "I said, don't do that," she muttered, wincing as his hand pushed harder into the broken bone. Tylar glared, knowing what he was doing and half loving it. The other half was terrified of the pain that was sure to come if he touched it again...

Tylar didn't protest as he undid her jacket, relieved that he wasn't touching the rib. Through the tight material of her strappy top, the lump -aka, her rib- was obvious, and just looking at it made her feel slightly sick. If he touched her there...she'd have to murder him. After screaming and crying, probably. His words made her smile, relaxing slightly, and clenching her jaw as he slammed her head back into the door. "I said, don't do that," she snapped, annoyed because she hadn't anticipated what he was going to. Her head was still ringing, and she sighed, closing her eyes for a second. "Sorry. It just hurts." Tylar didn't want to piss Rio off. Not when he was being so...nice wasn't the word. Accommodating.

The glass in his hands made her eyes light up, the ripping of her flesh making her wriggle closer towards him. Head-banging and rib-touching aside, Rio was perfect. Without noticing, Tylar moaned quietly, the stabbing pain making her shiver. Would he stop if she asked him too? Maybe. Deciding to test that theory, she pulled away, glaring at him and hoping he wouldn't see through her bad acting. "Stop it?" It was a question. Tylar didn't particularly want him to stop; if he did, she'd ask him to do it again, but some of the excitement would be gone. It would just be boring to know that she was in control, and could stop when she wanted.