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phone a friend
AN INCESSANT TAPPING ON HER CHEEK WAKES HER. In the brief second that passes before she opens her eyes, all of her memories flood in and she knows who will be standing before her.Knowing doesn't make it any more pleasurable though, and she can't decide if it's the faint throbbing in her neck or the fact that he'd even managed to catch her off guard enough to take her down.
"I know that you're awake, I can hear your heartbeat change."
"Wow," She mused, voice hoarse from disuse and the knife that had been in her throat however long ago. It must've been at least an hour by now if she was already waking up and mostly healed, or at least not actively bleeding out anymore. "Do you want a gold star?"
"No," Mikael bites out, already irritated at her sarcasm. "I want to know what you are. You obviously aren't a vampire, and even one of those mutts wouldn't have survived that. Are you a witch?"
"Maybe," Athena pursed her lips, seemingly contemplating his question before shrugging. "Maybe not."
He narrows his eyes at her as she rolls her head back, sitting stiffly in the chair she had been bound to. "Well, which is it?"
"I think that depends on your definition of a witch," Athena glanced at him, nonchalance obvious in her relaxed tone. "It could be different than mine, so who's to say what I am or am not? If anything, I'm happy to sit here and play a fun guessing game with you. I'll even put money down if you're brave enough,"
Mikael clenches his jaw, stalking towards her with quickly rising anger. "Your sarcasm is not as charming as you think it is, girl. Now tell me what you are,"
He yanked her head back, making her grunt at the stinging in her scalp and she watched his pupils dilate in an attempt to compel her. Silence befell them for a split second, and then she huffed a laugh, her lips parting in a grin that enraged the man. "Now, Mikael– you are Mikael, right? I mean, you've got the accent, the rage, and the attitude of a man who uses fear to get what he wants, all key components in the Mikaelson name, so I'm just making an educated guess here–"
She's cut off by a stiff backhand to her jaw and she inhales sharply at the impact that slowly ebbs into nothing. When she raises her gaze to his again, her brown eyes are sharp and less humorous, but she lets out a long sigh, and her anger is pushed aside. "You really shouldn't interrupt people, Mikael. It's rude."
"I don't play the games of children," He looks at her with unreserved disgust, and she smiles victoriously to herself. "If you want all of your precious friends to live, you'll give me what I want."
She narrows her eyes at him, tilting her head curiously. "So that's where Klaus gets it from. Things are making a lot of sense now,"
That comment seems to spark the rage she'd been trying to uncover, and she yelps in surprise when his hand suddenly clamps around her jaw, pressing her cheeks together so she's forced to quiet. "That bastard is not my son. He and I are nothing alike."
