thea perkins đź—ˇ cyra noavek (cyra) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2019-04-23 20:51:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * kit, c: thea stone |
WHO: Thea Perkins
WHEN: Tuesday, April 23, 2019; Early Morning
WHERE: Her apartment
SUMMARY: Thea wakes up and is torn between two worlds, both of which are painful to live in.
WARNINGS: Chronic pain, mentions of betrayal, being drugged
For the first time since Thea had taken the job in DC, she’d had to call in. Waking up barely able to move, or even think as she tried desperately to separate herself from the girl in her dreams, but her first time calling in to her new job had been an entirely different beast. When she’d interviewed for the job, she’d been very clear about what her normal was, and her superiors had been very clear that her normal was what made her the perfect candidate for the job, but there had always been some part of her that had been terrified of testing their sincerity. Their reaction to Thea needing the day off was the only part of that morning that had provided her any comfort. Because even though her work situation was sorted out, everything else was wrong. Her thoughts felt slow, too slow even for one of her bad mornings. One moment, she’d be lying in her bed surrounded by the bareness of a room primed for a move out in a week’s time, and the next she was blinking back the sight of a room peppered with rays of first light and purple-stained sheets. One moment, Thea was running through her daily assessment of every part of her body, every part of her pain, and the next she was making mental calculations of the painkiller potion she’d made the night before. No. She hadn’t made it, she’d only help. Akos had made it. Akos and Gareth and Gareth and Akos carouseled through her thoughts as Thea reached for her phone to call him, and then stopped as Cyra tore through Akos’ room, letting the realization of what had happened hit her. He had drugged her. She had trusted him, and he had drugged her. Thea rolled onto her side, the cold wetness of her pillow pressing against her cheek and she didn’t know if these tears were hers as the physical pain radiated through her body, or if they belonged to the girl who wouldn’t cry as her shadows danced and her heart broke. “I think you’re lying to yourself about what I am,” he had said. “Honor has no place in survival,” she had taught him. He had drugged her, and he had left, and now he would pay. They both would pay. Because Ryzek was an unforgiving man, and he was a man who didn’t like to lose. But Cyra knew pain more intimately than anyone else and pain was her armor, whether it it came from within or without. She hated Akos for tricking her, for taking the soft piece of her she’d gifted him and proving to her that there was no room for softness in this life, for provoking Ryzek’s ire, for betraying her. But what she hated more than anything else was that she hated to watch him in pain. Thea curled into herself and wept both for herself and for the girl whose lessons were hard-learned and never forgotten, the girl who couldn’t show the ways in which she hurt. And she wept for the tenuous tether between Cyra and Akos that she could feel snapping in two over and over and over again. |