Hope is poisonous (Chapter 8)

She thinks about the future, and they learn more about each other. (2,800~ words)

Why did she allow Killian to heal her?
She opens her eyes. The folded suit jacket is under her head again, and Killian is once again doing exercises in the corner of the cave with his shirt off. It feels like deja vu, minus the fractured hip, and the obtuse vase full of water in front of her.
She sits up and finds that she has almost recovered her full range of control, outside of the terrible muscle aches, but she isn’t one to complain when she should’ve probably died yesterday if it weren’t for Father’s tough genetics. Half of what Killian has done is already a miracle.
Grabbing the heavy vase with two hands, she slowly tips it back and takes a cautious sip. It turns into a hasty gulp, two gulps, and it's back on the floor, with two streams of water trickling down the sides of her lips. This vase is really, really, obnoxious.
It’s also the reason she let Killian heal her.
Father is eccentric. This vase requires a steady, strong hand to operate, it’s opaque so the person tipping it would have to be able to see the inside to not waste it, and the only person in the room who would be capable of pouring it gently would be Killian. The monster. Also, the only hand able to help. If things had gone according to Father’s plan, Killian would’ve calmed down Elward and helped him drink water to relax. He also would’ve helped Father’s poor, miserable daughter. Several days of nursing the both of them would drain Killian, who would inevitably be forced to eat either Elward or Aurelia. He’s known Aurelia longer so the chances are high that he'd choose Elward. She also has the better odds of getting him an escape route.
Aurelia, whether she bonded with Elward or not, would see what Killian is capable of doing in his attempt to survive at all costs, and reject his help thereafter. However, Killian’s nature must be to help, so he would use Elward’s energy to heal her, whether she accepted or not. Aurelia would have complicated feelings towards him after that, because he is capable of ending and helping her with the same hand.
Like Father.
Then Father would kill one of them. To cause the endless grief and misery of the other.
It’s a rough guess, but she can convince her Father to lessen her punishment with just this much information. Even if it doesn’t go completely according to his plan. Probably.
There is a problem, though.
How she is going to help Killian escape.
She thought about it before she fell asleep and she doesn’t like the idea of Killian dying. He isn’t one of Father’s “disposables,” which makes her feel complicated. He shouldn’t be trapped in this manor, but he is. No one should have to die here�" certainly not a boy like him, who can fill his heart with such pure emotions. Definitely, she affirms to herself, he cannot die in a place like this.
“Oh, Aurelia, you're awake.” Killian calls from across the cave. There’s absolutely nothing in here besides each other and the dusty floor, so she can understand why he caught onto her movement so easily. On the other hand, it disturbs her how easily he exits her mind while she’s thinking. Even his voice just now made her flinch. He grabs his shirt from the floor and walks over. He doesn’t put it on yet, presumably to allow the sweat on his chest to dry first. For her, she isn’t bothered by it, because his eyes are better to look at. For pain relief.
“How are you feeling?”
“Sore,” She responds immediately. She changes her answer when he looks downcast. “Good, I mean. Yesterday was bad. So today is… good.” She uncomfortably sweeps her hair behind her ear, annoyed at the tingling sensation of it brushing against her warm cheeks. She feels frustrated at her childish and simplistic choice of words. It’s not like she has to care about if he’s upset or not. Then she fumbled anyway. A hole would be nice to hide in, right about now.
They have no one to talk to but each other. Maybe she shouldn’t have rushed Elward’s death, as inevitable as it was. She stops herself from laughing at her own dark joke. Maybe that’s too far.
She swallows. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You almost broke your last record. It's just about evening now. So half a day again.”
“Is that how long your power keeps someone unconscious?”
He laughs uncomfortably. “Not really. It, it just floods the brain with a hormone that puts them to sleep. How long someone stays asleep is completely dependent on how fast their body cleans off the hormone receptors. That could be a few hours, or a full day. You’re right about in the middle.”
“How long do you think it would keep my father asleep?” She blurts the question before she can stop herself.
“Your father?” He thinks, “Not long. I’ve learned from testing it on knights that young and strong men shake it off the fastest, especially ones that rarely work and rest often. He’d be up within four hours, I’m sure. Maybe less.”
“Tsk,” He wouldn’t be able to touch her father, much less knock him out, but it’s disappointing to hear that it wouldn’t even be worth the effort. She pulls her legs to her chest and grumbles. Is Killian just physically strong? His power isn't enough.
Strong is nothing compared to Father.
But, even so, she has to get him out of here.
If she's correct, Father is going to turn his attention to Killian for the next visit. Then Father will get mad at her again, for whatever reason he comes up with. The smell of blood is beginning to become insufferable in this cave, and the texture on her clothes is disgusting now. It's not as bad as her previous experiences in the dungeons, but she was alone then. She isn't alone now.
“Do you think,” Killian begins, fidgeting in his lap, “I’d be able to overpower him?”
She isn't the only one thinking about escaping.
“No, I don't.”
He closes his eyes, looking all of the helpless child that he is, but he smiles. It looks terribly sad.
“But I do think you can sneak past him,” she finishes offhandedly. She doesn't look at his expression this time, staring away at a random rock on the ground. “Though, if you get caught, it's all over.”
“...” She chances a glance at him when he doesn't say anything.
Drip.
Something wet hits the dry floor.
“... Do you mean that?” He asks.
She swallows nervously. This is why Father played those poison games, letting her have false hope, just to rip it away at the door. Because this is what hope does to someone. Killian is trembling, eyes filling with tears as fast as they can fall down his cheeks. Even his nose starts to leak, which he messily wipes away with his shirt that he still hasn't put on.
He continues to look at her through all of his tears. His emotions hit her heart like a punch from Father and she looks away to stomp away the tingling in her nose and eyes. Hope is dangerous; She begins to understand in a different way than before. Hope is poisonous. Hope is the suffering of a father who wants to return home to his wife and child. Hope is the burn of a young boy's muscles as he exercises alone in a cave.
Even though she feels this hope from him and recognizes it, she doesn't know what her own hope is. It feels… lonely.
Drop.
A tear falls down her face like the leaves of an autumn tree embracing winter.
She brings her red sleeve up to her eye, rubbing the wetness away. His emotions are infectious.
He hasn't asked again, sobbing quietly to himself, but she responds to his question despite the time which passed. It wasn't long however it wasn't short.
“I do mean it.”
She swallows hard and feels it go over a lump in the back of her throat, and bitterly blames the boy for her state, even though a smile breaks through to her face as she does it. A lone, pale pinky finger raises between the two of them, who look similar, yet the opposite. Killian sees her pinky finger but she keeps her head turned and her arm covers the expression she makes from him. It also hides from herself what expression that he makes, looking at it. “... I promise. That you can escape.”
Killian hears this and laughs, wet and hysterical. He sounds like a young boy. “You-” he hiccups, “You know you h-have to cut off your pinky if you break it,” Even as he warns her he links his pinky finger with her’s and leans his forehead on his fist, smiling like a fool. “I won’t,” his voice goes high pitched, cracking, and his forehead scrunches up in emotion, “I won’t let you get away with it, if you're lying. I won’t.”
“Yeah,” lowering the arm which covered her face in a moment of weakness, she looks at Killian. They can both be fools, she silently laughs, dipping down and touching her forehead to her hand as well. “Yeah.”
The silence isn’t quiet. Their breaths are heavy and loud, and they both take up space inside of this large cave. It isn't natural to cry with a boy she met yesterday, but it is. It isn't natural to cry over hope, but it is. It isn't natural, but it is, she thinks when the second salty dewdrop falls from her chin, tingling.
Weird.
But, maybe a good weird.
When tears stop flowing down both of their faces, she asks Killian a question.
“What are you going to do if- when you get out of here?”
“... When, huh?” He muses to himself quietly. “I guess I’ll try to find a map of the land, first. I want to get home but I don’t even know where I’d begin.”
“How far away is it from here, do you think?”
“Two weeks of nonstop travel? I was unconscious for most of the trip. They didn’t want to risk getting evaporated. Not after I…” He pauses.
“You must have gotten one of them,” She guessed.
Killian clenches his fists sitting on his lap. “I did,” His eyes narrow in with what Aurelia assumes is disgust. “It was the first time I… ate someone. I didn’t even think about it at the time. My family and I were at an auction. I wandered off to go to the bathroom but I got lost, so my guard left to find someone because the hallway was empty. I must’ve gotten too close to the room full of the goods being auctioned.
“I tried to look for someone to ask directions from because my guard hadn’t come back when a man ran up from behind and grabbed me. He held a knife to my throat, and we were surrounded by guards, and I remember being so scared of dying that I wished he would just disappear. But, then… He did. He turned into a blue light and then he was sucked into my chest and I felt better. The cut on my neck from the knife healed and everything was fine. It was over just like that.”
Killian fiddles with his fingers in his lap and Aurelia spots a red mark on his thumb. It disappears as quickly as it came. She observes his small ministrations when she sees the red spot appear and start running down his thumb. Oh, she realizes. He must be tearing up the skin of his fingers to cope with the stress. If he could heal the cut on his neck, it must be just as easy to heal something like that as well. She doesn’t reach out to stop him.
Swallowing nervously, Killian continues talking, if only to fill the silence that comes over the cave when he stops. “I never expected it to be so… easy. He didn’t, I mean, he didn’t even have a chance to scream. My will to live killed him without leaving anything behind.” A new bead of blood pools on his thumb and trickles down. He wipes it away thoughtlessly and the injury vanishes, leaving clear skin. “What makes me different from him?”
“A lot,” Aurelia answers unconsciously. He looks up to meet her eyes, but she keeps her gaze at his red-stained hands. “He wanted to live, even if he had to slit your throat, and you wanted to live even if you had to take his life. The difference is that he wanted to steal and was willing to kill to get away from the result of his choice. You got lost. You feel upset over his death. Isn’t that enough?” It’s easy for her to answer his question. She’s had a long time to think about life and death. To her, survival is a must. It is not a question. “Your power doesn’t make you a monster any more than holding a knife does to a man. If you don’t do bad things with it, you won’t become a monster. I don’t think you’ve done anything bad at all, yet.”
She looks up. Did she say that well enough? She worries by herself, wanting to rephrase it somehow. Her heart feels uncomfortable with all of this philosophical talk.
Killian meets her eyes. His emotions cross the space between them and greet her. He is scared of himself. Angry at his power. Angry at himself again. Her words must not have helped, she thinks bitterly, but a gentle emotion begins to spread as well. It feels like gratitude, but sweeter and more tart. She looks down again, hating the satisfaction that she experiences. This is what she’s always thought about, it isn’t special, it wasn’t kind. She was just speaking her ideas out loud.
To change the subject she has to swallow her nerves. There's one thing that she’s been curious about since she woke up. No, before she fell asleep.
“... You stopped hiding your feelings. Why did you do that?”
She’s only known one person who readily let down her defenses in front of a Golden Eyed and that was her mother.
Killian hums. The change in topic allows him to compose himself and he puts his finger to his chin in contemplation. “I thought it would help us get closer if I did. But it must’ve been for nothing,” She can see him smile slyly from the corner of her eye, contrasting the raw pink tint to his eyes when he leans closer. “-because you’ve started avoiding my eyes ever since. Do you not like it?”
“It’s not that,” She fidgets..
“Then?”
“It’s…” She hesitates. It isn't uncomfortable to read his emotions, but she finds herself moving away from him nonetheless. In the end she has to reply, “It’s nothing. I don’t know. It's weird.” What can she tell him when she doesn’t know herself?
“Do you want me to stop?” He moves forward and she can feel his eyes trying to meet her own. Awful. She turns her head away.
“No, I don’t mind it.” Maybe she should.
“That's good,” Maybe she definitely should. “I'm curious about your eyes, actually. Can you tell me a bit?”
“Like what? There's not much to it.”
“You know, what does it feel like? Can you feel my emotions as if they're yours?”
“No,” she says. “It's more like… a separate sense. Emotions are too abstract to describe simply as ‘feeling.’ I'm not sharing your emotions when I look into your eyes, I'm just perceiving them. I can be affected if it's very strong but I don't feel what you feel,” She runs a hand through her hair and bits of dried blood collects between her fingers, to which she scowls in disgust. This is like describing the color red to a blind man. Or a song to the deaf. Words can only do so much.
“Is it specific? If I’m upset, do you know specifically what I’m upset about? What if the person doesn’t know their own emotions? Could you interpret for them?”
She picks out the blood flakes from under her fingernails. Gross.
“No, I can’t interpret. I can only infer from what I know. Sometimes I come across an emotion in someone else that I’ve never felt before, and there isn’t anything I can do to understand it until I’ve experienced it myself. If I know their emotion I could try to dive deeper into it for a source, but if that person doesn’t know what they’re upset about then I don’t know either. It’s not like I can read minds.”
“You can’t?”

Author's Note

This is more unedited than the other chapters, especially the last half. Any thoughts? I need to reread it myself. I think it went too fast.