[ Good. Good. They won't hold him for long, but they'll hold him long enough, hopefully, for the shock of touching the ice to bring him back to his senses.
To his credit the centaur remains calm through all of this, only pausing in his work for a moment when Trevor moves. And only then to avoid getting the magic in th ewrong place rather than to back away. Trevor's not sure what to think of the fact that he had no questions about removing a brand usually used to mark the kinds of people who murder children, but it is at least good for him and-
-the brand doesn't even hurt. It can't, the nerves are burned away instantly. The sound is worse than the feeling of it, the hiss of skin disintegrating against the heat of the iron. Distantly, he can feel flesh sticking to the thing as it's pulled away. There are screams from somewhere that feels very far away right now, some of horror and some of pain. They should be horrifying, but he can't quite bring himself to let them do anything but wash over him. It's a while before he realises that he must have stopped struggling, because nobody is holding him down anymore. He blinks, and only one eye closes.
And then there's something cold against his wrists, and it brings him back. He's here. Here and safe, and that eyelid has long since healed enough to close. He's still now, still and quiet, and the only indication that something's wrong is the smell of something dead and rotting under the table. Sorry, Ellis' nose. ]
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To his credit the centaur remains calm through all of this, only pausing in his work for a moment when Trevor moves. And only then to avoid getting the magic in th ewrong place rather than to back away. Trevor's not sure what to think of the fact that he had no questions about removing a brand usually used to mark the kinds of people who murder children, but it is at least good for him and-
-the brand doesn't even hurt. It can't, the nerves are burned away instantly. The sound is worse than the feeling of it, the hiss of skin disintegrating against the heat of the iron. Distantly, he can feel flesh sticking to the thing as it's pulled away. There are screams from somewhere that feels very far away right now, some of horror and some of pain. They should be horrifying, but he can't quite bring himself to let them do anything but wash over him. It's a while before he realises that he must have stopped struggling, because nobody is holding him down anymore. He blinks, and only one eye closes.
And then there's something cold against his wrists, and it brings him back. He's here. Here and safe, and that eyelid has long since healed enough to close. He's still now, still and quiet, and the only indication that something's wrong is the smell of something dead and rotting under the table. Sorry, Ellis' nose. ]