#and with katarina I tried to think of something but honestly she just never experienced it bc she just never gets romantically involved

[warwaged-archive]

Katarina + heartbreak

Send me something to drabble about

The first man to break her heart never does it to her face.

It is no tale of romance, of love found and lost. Heartbreak first comes to her in the shape of a blade, crimson blood dripping through her fingertips from a wound that leaves scar much deeper than the obvious mark of failure etched upon her face. Katarina had been scarred before, a thousand times and more; those were marks of devotion, however, of dedication to shaping herself into something deadly and violent and strong and perfect. This one is different; this is shame and humiliation and the explicit message in words he never bothers to say.

You are no daughter of mine.

Not even worth his time, that he would take her life himself; all the General offers her is spite and a death sentence, a nameless assassin he had raised from the city slums to wound her pride, and it hurts unlike anything she had experienced. Katarina had bled before, by accident and on purpose; had felt the blood within her veins burn with poison that would have killed her had she taken the wrong dose. She was no stranger to broken bones and bruised skin; there was no building strength in a golden cage, and she had always been determined to be strong. Yet training endurance and crafting resistance of body and mind did awful little to prepare her heart, inconvenient thing that it had always been, determined to feel too much, too strongly. Emotions had led her astray in her mission, emotions devastated her as she faced the consequences of it; emotions threatened to ruin her, then, daggers clashing against the nameless assassin’s blades with vicious rage (willed forward by each sharp edge of a shattering heart).

Was a daughter worth so little in face of a name?

Was she nothing but a disposable weapon, to be thrown away upon first test and failure?

Her chest rises and falls with quick breath, anger overwhelming. There is no planning, no careful analysis of opponent, but she needs it not; what she needs is the violence in itself, each motion a product of a lifetime of training, each strike delivered with more strength than needed (it would tire her faster, but Katarina did not care; had she not been made to kill? Then kill she would, in bloodiest, most gruesome possible way, so there would be naught left of the nobody her father sent to end her life). 

Her heart aches at that, screaming betrayal; and though instinct moves her as blade nearly guts the other where he stands, Katarina grows careless. She allows herself to get lost in what comes naturally -- the fight, lashing out as she is; the deadly dance of blades matched evenly by one equal to her in skill. In battle, some sort of soothing; it does not numb her to it but dulls violent outpour of emotion, enough so that when carelessness could have cost her life, she knows to acknowledge it is a deliberate withdraw on her would-be killer’s part.

There is silence between them, then, cut only by her quick breath; and though anger subdues, Katarina does not allow it to go away entirely. It is better than giving in to pain; and controlled, it allows her to clear head enough to decide what to do next.

“I failed my mission.” A statement, not a question; she has realized her mistake well before she had noticed the presence of the other assassin. Fingertip still upon her cheek, tracing the end of the wound he had given her; but green eyes do not move away from him, even though he had been first to sheathe blades. “I intend to make it right. I will kill my original target and pay for my mistake. You can stand in my way and die or let me do what I ought to have done already.”

Even as she speaks, chaotic feelings are kept just beneath the skin; he could have killed her. He had the chance, and chose not to. The other assassin did not seem older than she was; and by choosing not to kill her now, he had failed as she had. 

She does not know what to make of that, though it seems not an act of pity. Mercy from a stranger, a nobody, a nameless assassin who sees her choice to atone as worthy enough he would submit himself to judgement for allowing her to leave; if her heart is in pieces, she feels the pieces shatter to dust. Mercy from a stranger, but not from one who had taught her everything, blood of her blood, mentor, father. 

Perhaps it is what leads her to stay her own blades, rather than killing her would-be killer. Perhaps it is what drives her to ask for his name instead. “Before I go, I would have the name of the one he sent for me.”

“I have no name to offer you. My name never mattered.”

“It does now.” Why she was uncertain herself; but Katarina’s tone made it clear she would have an answer, something to call the blade her father had sent. The truth of it did not matter; there was nothing to be gained from that knowledge she could not have taken through violence then and there. It is important for her to know all the same; the nameless nobody had matched her in strength and skill, she who carried the name of one of Noxus’ old houses. They are worlds apart and not at all, children of the same land, mentored by same teacher.

It stings to know the other will not face punishment as she had, favor lost and name disgraced and life threatened, but Katarina knows it to be the truth. 

This was never about her mission, or the Noxian lives she had caused to be lost. This was about a name, and one man’s pride, and though her chest still aches, there is bitter resignation at that. She had failed, yes, because he had failed in teaching her, sharpening her edges to best serve him when she should have been spilling blood not for the man, but for the nation. 

“It matters to me.” She repeats when silence falls upon them once more, and finds it to be the truth. It matters not to the General who had brought them both then and there, to be as they were; of that she has no doubt either. 

But she is not her father, and this is the moment when she chooses to never be. 

“They called me Talon.”

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The ruin inside is plainly mirrored in exterior by the time she walks towards her father once more.

Katarina needed not make it messy, true, but she wanted to. She could have slipped into the Demacian’s camp undetected, slit his throat in silence, returned clean and freed of the burden of a mission unaccomplished. Could have, but did not. Instead she allowed them to see her, slaughtering her way to her target; and when she reached him at last, his death had been neither quick nor painless, drenching her in blood as head was severed from body.

Katarina needed not make it messy, true, but she wanted to. She could have brought simpler proof of her kill, kneeling before her father and pleading forgiveness in face of her attempt to atone. Could have, but did not. Instead she walks in with righteous fury, confident even when torn apart, and throws the severed head at his feet, gaze sustaining his, even as eyes so alike her own offer her only disdain.

“I would have taken your head instead,” Something flickers in his eyes (perhaps wrongfully assuming this to be threat, announcement of what she would do next?), but she does not flinch. Violence solved everything; and blood had soothed her heartbreak enough it had since turned to deserved resent. Father had not been wholly wrong, however; she had, in expecting their ties to matter more than their mission. “but failure must have consequences.”

“And I have failed.” Sour enough to say it that the bitter taste stays upon her mouth, worsened by each subtle sign of a reaction he displays (barely there at all, but his is a familiar face, and too long she had hungered to see it show pride, learning each shift in order to avoid blatant disregard he now offers). But swell of disdainful pride does naught to smother her own, evenly matched; she is not her father, but blood is thick, and spite only makes her more spiteful. “Not you, but Noxus.”

One of her earliest memories is of being taught not to cry. You do not display your emotions for all to see, or they will know to use them against you. You do not show fear, and you do not show pain; if you are hurt, you endure it with strength and dignity. The assassin is the blade; you wound, and you do not weep. There had been nothing of comforting in his stern tone as he spoke, looming over her in a stance others may have taken to mean General instead of Father (they had always been the same to her). Her tears had dried as soon as she was able to force them back, nevertheless; she did not wish to disappoint him. She promised herself to be strong, and brave, and never cry again.

The memory seemed irrelevant, in spite of coming to her then, father and daughter staring down at one another in deathly silence. If he expects her to request forgiveness, Katarina never does; she merely slips into the shadows once more to take her leave, no permission requested. 

Had her mistake not been enough, she had actively burned that bridge now. There would be no amends, now or ever; there would be nothing but constant reminder of scorn and failure, attempt after attempt to spite her --- to wound, not because he refused to show weakness but because he could, and whichever ties she had been foolish enough to presume, she had never been more than a tool in his vast arsenal.

Rain that pours outside washes away some of the blood; it barely hurts at all as water runs down the wound above her eye. Katarina does not seek shelter from it, in spite of blurred vision and stinging eyes; if she lies well enough to herself, she can almost believe it is just the rain.

[alivehahahafuck]

Things We Become In The Dark

Chapter 2 The Doctor

They arrived at the Capitol Event Center slightly on the early side, which suited both August and Elliot, because this kind of thing gets on their nerves. As they approached the seemingly abandoned building they saw that there was an open set of double doors off to the side a little ways away, but still adjacent to the entrance. There was an attendant in a grey pantsuit next to the doorway carrying a clipboard. Her grey pantsuit was the same color as August’s dress. It’s the grey that they make all of the Assignees wear to the Assignment, it’s supposed to symbolize how everybody is equal and undesignated, until they get their job and their colors. August was pretty sure it was a way to repress people and make them love their jobs too much, so they are content and don’t rebel. But, honestly, if it works, August was happy and decided to go along with it. 

The unnamed attendant waved the Braxton’s over, and they obediently followed, more than happy to have somewhere to go and something to do, as opposed to just milling around in such open spaces. Sontharian’s naturally don’t like open spaces. Gives them a weird feeling on their back. That’s just what happens when your entire life is underwater. The lady got August signed in on her LightPad. Now all she had to do was head inside and wait. 

Inside, it was essentially empty, with the exception of random workers hustling about making last minute adjustments to things, trying to get the place ready. There were a few other Assignees floating around, mostly standing by themselves awkwardly. There were two people who had drifted a little too close together and were forced to make polite, but very awkward and forced, conversation. There was one girl who stood out from the rest.

She was this blonde girl, who looked a little nervous. Not nervous in the same way that everybody else was nervous, it was more like her resting facial expression and general temperament was ‘drowning in anxiety’. August couldn’t blame her, seeing as how she herself has a resting face that scared people away. But it wasn’t just that she seemed scared. She appeared to be at least two years younger than everybody else, which indicated to August that she shouldn’t be here. But at the same time, all the workers who were scurrying by nodded at her and smiled, seeming to not have any sort of problem with her presence. 

Subconsciously, August started slowly migrating towards the scared girl, trying to observe her more carefully and figure out what she was doing here. The more she stared at her, the more she realized that the girl was not at all nervous about being here. She acted like she was supposed to be here, among the hustle and bustle. Her nervous expression seemed to be the overflow of the constant thoughts that were running behind her eyes, as if she was thinking about every possible scenario of what could go wrong, and what could succeed.

It didn’t take long until August’s wanderings brought her face to face with the girl, who has acknowledged her presence but didn’t say anything, or diert any attention from her mental simulations to her. Feeling very awkward about the fact that she was standing three feet away from a girl she walked up to, and still hadn't said anything, August opened her mouth hoping her brain would spit out the appropriate words. 

Unfortunately, August was still focusing too much on what the actual hell the girl could be thinking of, and why didn’t she say anything first, that August’s brain more vomited the words out in an incoherent mess. “Hi, umm, I was just wondering, not to sound rude, sorry if I’m coming across rude, some people think I’m an anti-social bitch, well, not that they’re totally wrong. Ha! Actually, they’re kind of right, I really don’t enjoy social functions. Anyways, I’m sorry, I was wondering, again, not to sound rude, exactly what you’re doing here? I couldn’t help but notice that you seem significantly younger than everybody else, also, the workers seem to know who you are and you don’t seem to be nervous about everything like the rest of us…”. August didn’t end up finishing her ramblings with a complete thought, she just left her confusion out in the air. 

Thankfully, the girl didn’t seem to mind, and her lips broke into a timid but amused smile. “My presence here is just a formality. I already know my assignment, I’ve already been working for a year. I’m a rising surgeon in the public hospital system, I mostly do sutures and stupid stuff like that because for legal reasons I cant perform actual surgeries yet. But I’m consulted on a lot, if not all, difficult and bizarre cases,” she replied.

“Oh.” August let the noise out softly, with her lips still pursed into a little “o” shape, hanging on the edge of the next few words. “So you’re a child genius?” she asked, great that’s not intimidating. The girl chuckled softly, looking down momentarily and blushing a bit, a little bit more on her left cheek than on her right.

“That’s a generous way of looking at it,” she replied, “I have an aptitude for medical sciences…”, she trailed off wondering if she should continue, but the girl felt oddly and comfortable around August despite this being the first time they've met. However, despite the sudden trust, the girl got softer and sounded a bit more unsteady, “I can see the entire human body in my mind… every muscle, every nerve, where every last vein and artery should be.” That explained what she was distracted by, probably running through problems and solutions for the human body, all in her brain, “That, and I’m a natural problem solver. Between the two of those I’ve gotten pretty good at fixing all bodily problems: surgery, physical therapy, treating diseases.” Seeing August's look of surprise and inferiority the girl added, “Of course all blessings come with a curse… That’s about all I’m good at. I can’t fathom the mental aspect of humans,” She was still looking into August’s eyes, and August could see the sudden shift from poise and professionalism into unsurety and desperation, “emotions are so hard to predict and control. You never know what a human can do next. I can fix any external pain a human can feel. I can fix any problem. But I can’t fix what’s going on inside their brain, I can’t know what anybody is going to do next, and I don’t know how to fix it..” she trailed off, and August felt bad to see such a young girl have such a dark look in her eyes. 

Trying to lighten the mood, August tried to keep the discussion moving in a more positive direction. “Well that’s fine. Nobody’s perfect at everything. And I’m more than positive you have other skills to make up for it. I mean, apart from the fact that you’re a medical prodigy, I’m sure you have an affinity for other academic subjects too. History doesn’t change, I’m sure you have no problem memorizing dates and events!” she said, realizing she was slipping into the same tone of voice she used around Elliot.

“Actually,” she said, raising her eyes to look up at August, “I’ve never taken any other subjects. I’ve been taught math, biology, chemistry, biochemistry, human physiology, the list goes on. But the Counsel realized very early on in my life that I had the strongest aptitude for medicine that they have ever seen. They paid for me to be sent to the best medical institutions from a very young age, and they never taught me anything else other than what would apply to my job,” Upon seeing August’s confusion and disbelief that the Counsel could be so stupid and restricting on such a young girl, “It’s like how after Assignment, you only get training for the field you’ve been assigned to. The difference being They gave me my Assignment when I was 10. So I’ve taken ‘all of the subjects’, but only to the leel a ten year old would know.”

“Wait. Pardon my speech, but what the actual flying fuck? For the love of Quarre, who does that to a kid! Ten years old?!? And they constricted you to learning what 18 year olds would learn?!?

Wait. If you were 10 when you started.. That’ll mean you’ll be a full fledged doctor when you turn 18, the same time that kids your age will be starting their medical education…” August trailed off and now it was her turn to have her eyes zone out as she got lost in her own alarming thoughts, only to be interrupted by the young girl.

“Yes, it’s unfortunate, but ultimately beneficial. Younger children have an amazing capacity to pick up information at a faster rate and deeper understanding than we give them credit for.

They have such an educational advantage, in fact, that I will complete my learning two years earlier, when I turn 16. Meaning that if things continue the same way that they have, I’ll be a head surgeon by the time I turn 20, and I will be the most accomplished young doctor on the whole planet. My advisor likes to build me up and say that I’ll be the best in the entire Jurian System; but I doubt I’ll even be the best on Sonthar by the time I’m 20. But I will be the best at some point,” she said confidently, “....once everyone who is more experienced than me dies of old age” se clarified under her breath.

“Wow.” August just stared at the young blonde girl who talked more professionally and matter of fact-ly than most adults she knew. “So… child prodigy, huh? Does “child prodigy” have a name, so I can start placing bets on you well in advance, and make a shit ton of money?” August didn’t feel bad about swearing in front of her anymore, seeing as how her age was clearly only an indication of her body's physical boundaries.

“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She blushed a bit, almost being embarrassed she didn’t introduce herself earlier on in the conversation, “I’m Katarina. Katarina Fox.” she said whilst holding her pale hand out. 

“August Braxton,” she introduced herself, extending her hand back at Katarina for a friendly shake. Although at this point, August wanted to pull her into a tight hug and stroke her hair like she would for Elliot, because this poor girl seemed to have even more worries, pressures, and anxieties than Elliot. Nevertheless, she shook her hand, “Nice to meet you, Dr. Fox” she said with a bit of a coy smile.

As August was shaking Katarina’s hand, she realized that Katarina’s pale pure white skin was different from her own. August’s skin looked as if the blood underneath was metallic and grey. Katarina’s on the other hand (ehh, get it), looked as though her blood was a silver iridescent lava that shone through the paleness of her skin.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” August inquired, “but what race are you? Your skin seems to glow and have a hidden color and life to it. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Even though she was addressing Katarina, she might as well have been addressing the hand itself because her eyes were still entranced in her iridescent shimmer. She realized her impoliteness and forced herself to look at Katarina’s face, and noticed that now she was aware of the iridescence, she couldn’t unsee it. Her face was dewy with a slight internal shimmer, and her blushing cheeks were a collection of the pink and purple iridescent bits that were typically more dispersed with the rest of the silver. Her eyes were a pale icy blue, but something also shifted behind her eyes, like translucent pools of a dark blue swirling around in her eyes.

August’s trance was broken when the Doctor interrupted her with her answer once again. “Oh yes, right,” she blushed a little bit again, still getting embarrassed by forgetting little formalities. “I’m from pod Sol-.”

“Holy shit, you’ve seen the sun?” Everything was clicking into place for August, of course, she has the Sonthar tan, duhhhh, of course she’s from Sol “Wait.” She came upon another realization, “If you’re from Sol, what the hell are you doing in Dal?” The confusion of August’s face was soon replaced with stunned horror, “...how long have you been in Dal?...” with every passing word her blood began to boil and her words were spit with her disgust. “Did they take you away from your family when you were TEN!?!” 

August understood the pain of being young and having an older sibling taken away from you, that might happen to Elliot at the end of today. But to have a child taken away from their family and brought to a completely unfamiliar place.... “My parents separated when I was nine,” Katarina explained, “When I was put into the family relocation facility, they had to run a bunch of testing to fill out the adoption forms. Families want to know a child’s abilities and qualifications before they take them in.” August hadn't known that about the system. That’s sick! Why is it once I have to start working for these people I realize exactly how immoral and cruel they are? Katarina continued despite August’s horror, “That’s when they realized my gift. They ran more intense testing to see my limits, and sent me to live with a family who had been trying for a child for years. I stayed with them for a few months while the Science Executives filled out forms and convinced the Counsel that they should be allowed to take a ten year old away from their family.

“Obviously, they won their argument and I was taken away from my adoptive family two days after my tenth birthday.” Before August could interject with her disgust and fury, the workers called over the loudspeaker that all of the Assignees need to line up in two lines, male and female, by last name. When August turned around to line up, she realized that she was so invested in what the Doctor was saying that she didn’t realize that the room had become filled with seventeen and eighteen year olds. August and Katarina said their farewells and went to line up.