I admit my defeat (Sean)
Jul 1, 2012 17:33:09 GMT -5
Post by Katurian Arsov on Jul 1, 2012 17:33:09 GMT -5
Ignorance had been the only thing which had led him there, and after that little session he had been determined never to make the same mistake again. Since then, he’d been forced into several unpleasant altercations, and he had been an unwilling participant each and every time. They had needed practise as much as any meta did, and were allowed, within reason, to take their turns with anyone they wanted to. In the Odarennyi hierarchy, the more prized your ability, the more valuable you were: and the more valuable you were, the more you could get away with.
Pyrokinetics could get away with a lot. Technopaths could get away with more.
Telepaths could get away with anything.
Kat was furious with himself. It was the altercation with Henry Ballo which had landed him here – Kat hadn’t been previously aware that time with the school’s resident telepath was used as punishment, but here he was. He’d been in a fight, and told to report here. If it wasn’t punishment, what was it? The thunderous look on Thornton’s face had been enough to tell Kat that he meant what he said; the pyrokinetic had been informed the next day that an appointment had been made, in his name, with Sean. The bruises were healing, and it was time for him to report to the office.
Obedience and punctuality had been drilled into him in Russia, and Kat found himself almost involuntarily on time for his appointment – he hadn’t been able to even countenance the idea of to turning up. He waited outside the door, a fierce scowl on his face as he looked at the name-engraved panel screwed into the wood.
Despite his bravado, Kat was cold with fear. He’d never been able to work out a way of protecting himself at school, and the only thing he knew had annoyed the telepaths had been his thinking of nothing but a brick wall, a brick wall, a brick wall. But they had been young and in training – Sean was presumably in full control of his ability, and Katurian knew he would be no match for anything the older man could throw at him.
His breath was coming fast, and there was something icy in the pit of his stomach – it caught in his throat when he swallowed. When he raised a hand to knock on the door, Kat had to keep it balled into a fist to stop it from shaking. Stop it, he told himself, taking a deep breath and facing the door with an attempt at serenity.
This was going to happen. Nothing he could do would change that. ‘If you can’t alter the situation, there’s no point in being scared of it.’ Sound advice from a power trainer, and Kat did his best to take it to heart.
Thornton was going to get it for this.
Pyrokinetics could get away with a lot. Technopaths could get away with more.
Telepaths could get away with anything.
Kat was furious with himself. It was the altercation with Henry Ballo which had landed him here – Kat hadn’t been previously aware that time with the school’s resident telepath was used as punishment, but here he was. He’d been in a fight, and told to report here. If it wasn’t punishment, what was it? The thunderous look on Thornton’s face had been enough to tell Kat that he meant what he said; the pyrokinetic had been informed the next day that an appointment had been made, in his name, with Sean. The bruises were healing, and it was time for him to report to the office.
Obedience and punctuality had been drilled into him in Russia, and Kat found himself almost involuntarily on time for his appointment – he hadn’t been able to even countenance the idea of to turning up. He waited outside the door, a fierce scowl on his face as he looked at the name-engraved panel screwed into the wood.
Despite his bravado, Kat was cold with fear. He’d never been able to work out a way of protecting himself at school, and the only thing he knew had annoyed the telepaths had been his thinking of nothing but a brick wall, a brick wall, a brick wall. But they had been young and in training – Sean was presumably in full control of his ability, and Katurian knew he would be no match for anything the older man could throw at him.
His breath was coming fast, and there was something icy in the pit of his stomach – it caught in his throat when he swallowed. When he raised a hand to knock on the door, Kat had to keep it balled into a fist to stop it from shaking. Stop it, he told himself, taking a deep breath and facing the door with an attempt at serenity.
This was going to happen. Nothing he could do would change that. ‘If you can’t alter the situation, there’s no point in being scared of it.’ Sound advice from a power trainer, and Kat did his best to take it to heart.
Thornton was going to get it for this.
