Her soul, and her blood, burned in her the moment he lay eyes on her. Khan Noonien Singh. . .a brother, a beloved mentor and teacher. . a father. A King. Her lips parted a fraction, and her heart skipped a beat, only to resume it's pounding in her chest in so hard a manner it was nearly painful.
She was her own well, in that moment. Anguish and loss and pain. It rose up in her throat and threatened to drown her. When her name, her real name, uttered on his lips, it was as though she were thrown into the past, when man had uttered of engineered beings and did so with fear and trembling in their voices. How they had dressed finely and walked as gods when the rest of the world was decaying around them; only under his rule had their kind known utopia. Khan's form of brilliance, as well as his quiet ruthlessness, had made them thrive.
Until the world had seen their peace, seen their superior lives, and grown jealous, and turned on them.
Now they stood again, two augments; the youngest of them, and the senior; the child and the father, and none of it seemed to matter. Just that they were united; that their memories were, in some capacity shared; that neither of them, now, was alone.
How long has this world been graced by your presence?
His voice was thunder rumbling inside a cello. Her own was every bit as young, nearly childlike, as it had always been; but a deception just the same. Winter was a masquerade of innocence hiding something just as ruthless and deadly; the flower that was poison on the tongue. That had always been her purpose; that they never expected her, that she could kill, and still have them believe she'd been nothing more than a porcelain doll.
"Clearly, not long enough," was how she answered, and her head craned to the sound of the approaching footsteps. There was time for reminiscence later. She fell in step just behind him and off to his right. He caught the young boy-who-would be soldier and Winter watched him struggle with a dispassionate gaze that would have put any Vulcan stoicism to shame. When Khan addressed her, she stepped forward. Be it a test of her resolve, her ruthlessness. . . she of course had no intention of failing him. So like a viper she slid up beside her leader, and locked obsidian eyes on the boy, and slowly, oh so slowly, touched a cool, pale finger to his whimpering lips.
"ShhhHHhhhhhh. . . ." she hushed him. His eyes were wide, and fearful, but he went silent, shaking, but his murmuring died. Winter's expression didn't change. . . and when her head craned, and she touched a cool palm tot he boys face, he went still, as if soothed.
It was a glorious lie, and it took only a flex of her fingers to crush his jaw bone, sending it caving into his head and splintering and shredding his tongue.
Winter watched his dying struggles with all the empathy of a calculator.
dailybridgerton
ellievsbear
turnnoffyourmind
blakekathryn
areudirty
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
