[Day 210] image-making practice
Sep. 24th, 2024 11:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
liveindarknessCW: medical...torture...?
The exam room is chilly and sterile, the walls and floor white. However, the lighting is all focused on the center of the room, leaving the figures waiting patiently at the edges lost in shadow.
A teenaged Moray, about 14 or 15, is dressed in loose white clothes and sitting in a chair in the center of the room. In fact, he's strapped to the chair, arms and legs restrained. Most notable of all are the straps around his head, each one ending in a hook at the corner of his mouth, stretching it wide in an artificial smile. Bright lights hover over the chair, illuminating his figure. Monitors display his heart rate; there's a smiley face over, which is a good thing.
Somewhere off to the side comes a synthesized voice laid over a low gurgle. "Maintaining heart rate, good. Better than previous. You are doing so well. There, there."
Whatever smile "Moray" has created for himself, his guardian has deemed insufficient for his purposes. Remedial training is required, focused on shoring up his weaknesses. This special training is meant to test and improve the shape of his expressions but also to build endurance and stamina for constant smiling.
After all, nobody likes a frowning pet, and smiling ones look better on camera.
The hooks in his mouth winch the tiniest distance apart. The heart rate monitor wavers as he starts to panic reflexively; the smiley face turned surprised. "Moray" tries not to think about the ache in his cheeks and jaw, the sore places where the hooks rub against the corners of his mouth. He thinks about keeping his breathing steady, maintaining a perfectly controlled heart rate. The cold air filling and leaving his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The heart rate monitor returns to its steady controlled beeping. The face on the monitor smiles once more. Moray tenses, waiting for the instructor's reaction to this lapse of control. The longer he can maintain the ideal state of calm, the sooner this session will be over, and the sooner this course of remedial training will be over. But he might have ruined everything just now with his stupid, fruitless panicking.
The synthesized voice drifts over once again. "So good. Good pet. Ivan is doing so well. There, there."
"Moray" carefully doesn't exhale with relief, maintaining his steady breathing. For now, he's good enough.
But today's image-making practice has a long way to go.
*
This memory based on Alien Stage 2nd anniversary merch. If you need a visual, here is a standee of suffering from the 2nd anniversary pop-up store.
The exam room is chilly and sterile, the walls and floor white. However, the lighting is all focused on the center of the room, leaving the figures waiting patiently at the edges lost in shadow.
A teenaged Moray, about 14 or 15, is dressed in loose white clothes and sitting in a chair in the center of the room. In fact, he's strapped to the chair, arms and legs restrained. Most notable of all are the straps around his head, each one ending in a hook at the corner of his mouth, stretching it wide in an artificial smile. Bright lights hover over the chair, illuminating his figure. Monitors display his heart rate; there's a smiley face over, which is a good thing.
Somewhere off to the side comes a synthesized voice laid over a low gurgle. "Maintaining heart rate, good. Better than previous. You are doing so well. There, there."
Whatever smile "Moray" has created for himself, his guardian has deemed insufficient for his purposes. Remedial training is required, focused on shoring up his weaknesses. This special training is meant to test and improve the shape of his expressions but also to build endurance and stamina for constant smiling.
After all, nobody likes a frowning pet, and smiling ones look better on camera.
The hooks in his mouth winch the tiniest distance apart. The heart rate monitor wavers as he starts to panic reflexively; the smiley face turned surprised. "Moray" tries not to think about the ache in his cheeks and jaw, the sore places where the hooks rub against the corners of his mouth. He thinks about keeping his breathing steady, maintaining a perfectly controlled heart rate. The cold air filling and leaving his lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
The heart rate monitor returns to its steady controlled beeping. The face on the monitor smiles once more. Moray tenses, waiting for the instructor's reaction to this lapse of control. The longer he can maintain the ideal state of calm, the sooner this session will be over, and the sooner this course of remedial training will be over. But he might have ruined everything just now with his stupid, fruitless panicking.
The synthesized voice drifts over once again. "So good. Good pet. Ivan is doing so well. There, there."
"Moray" carefully doesn't exhale with relief, maintaining his steady breathing. For now, he's good enough.
But today's image-making practice has a long way to go.
*
This memory based on Alien Stage 2nd anniversary merch. If you need a visual, here is a standee of suffering from the 2nd anniversary pop-up store.
