"Let go of him—"
Whoever resisted was promptly smacked aside and rendered comatose. It didn't matter to Dasha either way as long as they were breathing. In Plait's case, he was breathing and talking. A step up, indeed. He studied him rigorously and took his time experimenting.
Blood was spilled. Screams echoed through the bridge.
"The bravest knight in the land…a title well deserved."
Fifteen agonizing minutes had passed, each moment stretching into eternity for Plait. Dasha had torn him apart with a precision that bordered on sadistic artistry. Limb from limb, he had dissected Plait's physical and mental fortitude, leaving him hanging on by the thinnest thread of existence. He tested several concoctions, including Dream Meth.
The edges of Plait's eyes were pink, overloaded from the amount of substance forced into his system. His cheeks were stained with pink-coloured tears. The effects were glorious to behold, if not for the incessant choking and wanton gasps.
