06-07-2024, 07:56 PM
Art’s stomach felt like it was in torsion; she had not taken any sort of antidote, and knew that would come back to kick her. You’re more human than you think! Some voice inside her said, mocking her. She didn’t like thinking of herself as half-Human, and even told those that questioned her that she was mostly Klingon. Strong people, strong genetics. But right now, she felt like she was dying from the inside out, and the only person that would be able to help her get through it was a Human. A… fellow Human.
It felt like it took most of what was left of her strength to look up at him, see how her companion was faring. He, too, was twisted where he sat, bent over and frozen with pain. If there had been any thoughts of Peter doing better due to the antidote, they disappeared upon Art seeing the pain upon his face. Feeling her own pain, in addition to seeing his, was a stark reminder of their pact, and their relationship.
There was some sort of exclamation on his part, though Art found it hard to understand. The pain was slowly spreading to her head now, and she was busy trying to accept that this wouldn’t just be in her abdomen. The center of her forehead was in splitting pain, and she grabbed at her forehead ridges as if they were actively growing. She couldn’t even bring herself to upchuck, because her head was already throbbing with the pain as if she had already done so. Instead, she foamed at the mouth, a mix of spittle and pain, and she tilted out of her chair, barely able to hang on to the table to keep herself upright.
It felt like forever, and though Art realistically knew it would ‘only’ be about 20 minutes, she couldn’t make her brain work long enough to start counting. No, there was no solace to be found, save for the presence of the person sitting across from her. The phrase ‘shared experience’ floated across her mind, and she desperately reached across the table to grab Peter. His hand, his forearm, anything she could reach and hold on to. She tried to look and guide herself, but at this moment she was literally blinded with pain, and as soon as she found him, squeezing her eyelids shut as tight as she could seemed to give her a modicum of solace.
Art didn’t know whether her grip on Peter was firm or weak, but at least she knew -both mentally and now physically- that he was there with her. And she did her best to bring her body closer still, needing to cling onto him to ease the pain.
It felt like it took most of what was left of her strength to look up at him, see how her companion was faring. He, too, was twisted where he sat, bent over and frozen with pain. If there had been any thoughts of Peter doing better due to the antidote, they disappeared upon Art seeing the pain upon his face. Feeling her own pain, in addition to seeing his, was a stark reminder of their pact, and their relationship.
There was some sort of exclamation on his part, though Art found it hard to understand. The pain was slowly spreading to her head now, and she was busy trying to accept that this wouldn’t just be in her abdomen. The center of her forehead was in splitting pain, and she grabbed at her forehead ridges as if they were actively growing. She couldn’t even bring herself to upchuck, because her head was already throbbing with the pain as if she had already done so. Instead, she foamed at the mouth, a mix of spittle and pain, and she tilted out of her chair, barely able to hang on to the table to keep herself upright.
It felt like forever, and though Art realistically knew it would ‘only’ be about 20 minutes, she couldn’t make her brain work long enough to start counting. No, there was no solace to be found, save for the presence of the person sitting across from her. The phrase ‘shared experience’ floated across her mind, and she desperately reached across the table to grab Peter. His hand, his forearm, anything she could reach and hold on to. She tried to look and guide herself, but at this moment she was literally blinded with pain, and as soon as she found him, squeezing her eyelids shut as tight as she could seemed to give her a modicum of solace.
Art didn’t know whether her grip on Peter was firm or weak, but at least she knew -both mentally and now physically- that he was there with her. And she did her best to bring her body closer still, needing to cling onto him to ease the pain.