pick your poison . cato/killian
Oct 18, 2020 1:49:01 GMT -5
Post by cass on Oct 18, 2020 1:49:01 GMT -5
A S T E R
Breakfast had been nothing special. A bowl of food marked with her name sitting in the fridge. It had been small and left a bitter aftertaste her mouth that had made her stomach curl. Had it been out of date? No, it seemed unlikely. Regardless of their treatment within this house, feeding them expired food meant less training time. It’d be sacrificed to allow them to recover, and wasting time was not an element Victor, Octavia or Killian appreciated.
Aster groaned, fingers pressing into her belly as she stumbled down the hallway. The mornings training had come and gone, Victor’s yelling echoing through the halls as he’d scaled her from start to finish. The pieces didn’t fit together and trying to figure out why she wanted to simply lie down and die was too much effort. The world spun before her, and Aster paused, lip curling as she pushed a hand against the way to stop herself from falling.
Was she going to be sick? No, this felt different. Created from a nightmare as it carried itself through her entire body. It raced its way down her limbs until her legs trembled and her skin ached. Sweat beaded her forehead, a drip running down her cheek as she closed her eyes to steady the nausea that threatened to break her apart. What was happening?
One minute she was eating breakfast, the next-
Her eyes widened, staring into the gloomy darkness before her as realisation sunk into the pit of her stomach like burning coal.
Poison.
It made sense. Killian had feed her book after book, filling her time with pages littered with obscure names of plants and animals that could kill a person with little more than a carefully crafted potion. She swallowed, fingers curling against the wall as she took an uneasy step forward. His offhanded comments about teaching her felt a little more terrifying. The reality of the situation sinking in further and further as she moved towards his office and library.
He’d done this to her. For what? To force her to learn quicker. To teach her about a poison's strength by forcing her to endure its power. It could be any of them, or maybe she had simply upset him, and this was his personal way of retaliating.
Was this how she was going to die?
She bit her lip, inching her way closer and closer to his office as the heat crawled across her cheeks. She felt dizzy, the world spinning more violently with every step. Her heart echoed within her chest, thumping faster and faster as the panic rose within her. I don’t want to die. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end, not here. She was supposed to grow old, wrapped in warmth and living with her family.
Calm down, Aster commanded, a low groan escaping her lips as his door came within her sight. The thousands of words she’d read were part of the solution before her. She could ask him for the antidote.
He was testing her, wasn’t he? An incredibly cruel but efficient test to see if she had truly been paying attention to his teachings. Controlling her breathing and racing heart would be the first task. Poison spread more quickly when your heartbeat was out of control, following through the veins as you pumped more and more blood through your body. Her hand thumped against the wood of Killian’s office door; teeth gritted in pain.
“Killian,” she called, words caught in her dry throat, “open the door, please.”
I don’t want to die.
Aster groaned, fingers pressing into her belly as she stumbled down the hallway. The mornings training had come and gone, Victor’s yelling echoing through the halls as he’d scaled her from start to finish. The pieces didn’t fit together and trying to figure out why she wanted to simply lie down and die was too much effort. The world spun before her, and Aster paused, lip curling as she pushed a hand against the way to stop herself from falling.
Was she going to be sick? No, this felt different. Created from a nightmare as it carried itself through her entire body. It raced its way down her limbs until her legs trembled and her skin ached. Sweat beaded her forehead, a drip running down her cheek as she closed her eyes to steady the nausea that threatened to break her apart. What was happening?
One minute she was eating breakfast, the next-
Her eyes widened, staring into the gloomy darkness before her as realisation sunk into the pit of her stomach like burning coal.
Poison.
It made sense. Killian had feed her book after book, filling her time with pages littered with obscure names of plants and animals that could kill a person with little more than a carefully crafted potion. She swallowed, fingers curling against the wall as she took an uneasy step forward. His offhanded comments about teaching her felt a little more terrifying. The reality of the situation sinking in further and further as she moved towards his office and library.
He’d done this to her. For what? To force her to learn quicker. To teach her about a poison's strength by forcing her to endure its power. It could be any of them, or maybe she had simply upset him, and this was his personal way of retaliating.
Was this how she was going to die?
She bit her lip, inching her way closer and closer to his office as the heat crawled across her cheeks. She felt dizzy, the world spinning more violently with every step. Her heart echoed within her chest, thumping faster and faster as the panic rose within her. I don’t want to die. This wasn’t how she wanted it to end, not here. She was supposed to grow old, wrapped in warmth and living with her family.
Calm down, Aster commanded, a low groan escaping her lips as his door came within her sight. The thousands of words she’d read were part of the solution before her. She could ask him for the antidote.
He was testing her, wasn’t he? An incredibly cruel but efficient test to see if she had truly been paying attention to his teachings. Controlling her breathing and racing heart would be the first task. Poison spread more quickly when your heartbeat was out of control, following through the veins as you pumped more and more blood through your body. Her hand thumped against the wood of Killian’s office door; teeth gritted in pain.
“Killian,” she called, words caught in her dry throat, “open the door, please.”
I don’t want to die.
S T R A U S S