To Annoy a Person is to...
Brought to you by
Kalison Artor
Dedicated to
Dax, I love ya! Don't you ever dare stop using that wonderful imagination of yours! For if you do, I will be the one bashing the other with pillows.
Disclaimer
Not mine, just Adja and the plot. But then again, Adja is her own person. You can stop whacking me with pillows now! I also forgot, Kayleigh is her own character. Yes, Adja, be happy, your sister is there to try to keep you in line. :P
... Whistle While You Work
Kayleigh did not notice that Jadzia had gone missing until the permeating, cheesy, disgusting smell of Jadzia's macaroni and cheese began to smell burn and charred, meaning that Jadzia had once again overcooked the noodles by not paying attention.
Kayleigh sighed and cleaned up the mess, knowing that if Jadzia didn't do it, she would have to do it at a later time. So, while she was loading the dishwasher, she placed the pot into the dishwasher, and pulled the baklava that she was baking for her Latin class out of the oven.
Kayleigh hollered down the hallway for her sister to come and make herself a sandwich, as she opened a poor, beaten-up book that had seen many happy reads. Ironically, Kayleigh, who was singing rather quietly to herself, brushed the picture of a man on the fourteenth chapter of the book. That particular picture always seemed to sadden her, for the character was described as having a dark personality, wearing dark clothes, with dark features, and a heart of light, which was hidden in the shadows. She closed her eyes, just as her fingers touched the page, wishing that she could ease his pain, and at the same moment she reached the verse in her song;
"Passing bells and sculpted angels
Cold and monumental
Seem for you the wrong companions
You were warm and gentle."
She was whisked away, baklava still resting in one hand, serving knife in the other. She knew that she had done something when she reached out with her left hand, to feel only the knife where the warm, worn page once was.
She opened her eyes slowly, as she now clutched to her the baklava with both hands, her hazel eyes meeting those of charcoal black. His eyes were wide with fright, hers, unresponsive, were confused and shoked. He glanced at her hands, to his side, and back to her face, his a picture of surprise. She looked at her hand, the left one to see that it had begun to swell, along with the fact that the cut in his side had begun to bleed profusely. She vaguely noted the broken potion vial in his hand before her eyes rolled up, and she knew no more.