Cassandra’s Truth
Title: Cassandra’s Truth
Fandom: Class of the Titans
Table/Prompt: Table 4/4. Apathy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 274
Summary: Nobody believes. They never do.
Theresa watched the boy move resolutely around, ignoring Theresa. The red head stayed right where she was, waiting. “Ceaser?”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” he snapped, “even if I told you. That’s what it means to be cursed by a god with both prophesy and the inability to do anything about it. They sent you to me because you have the prophesy, and you want control. But that is not how it works.”
“If you can’t help me,” Theresa asked, “then why see me at all?” She stood up, circling the descendant of Cassandra, who smiled thinly.
“My family makes a point of not offending the gods further. What we have is bad enough, I assure you.”
Theresa smiled back, though her expression was softer and far more genuine. “Nobody believes me, either.”
Ceaser stopped, whirled, eyes far too wide and too bright with rage. “Tomorrow your friend Atlanta will give you a black eye by hitting you with her elbow while dodging a thrown ice cream cone.”
“Oh come on-”
“There. See? You know that I have the gift of prophesy, but you do not believe that what I tell you is true. You will not listen.” He looked at Theresa mournfully. “No one ever listens.”
Theresa bit her lower lip, watching the strange boy she had come to for help. Ceaser was half mad, clearly more than ready to be rid of her. “I-”
“Shut up. Go away. You won’t listen to me, and I don’t waste my time.”
Fandom: Class of the Titans
Table/Prompt: Table 4/4. Apathy
Rating: PG
Word Count: 274
Summary: Nobody believes. They never do.
Theresa watched the boy move resolutely around, ignoring Theresa. The red head stayed right where she was, waiting. “Ceaser?”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” he snapped, “even if I told you. That’s what it means to be cursed by a god with both prophesy and the inability to do anything about it. They sent you to me because you have the prophesy, and you want control. But that is not how it works.”
“If you can’t help me,” Theresa asked, “then why see me at all?” She stood up, circling the descendant of Cassandra, who smiled thinly.
“My family makes a point of not offending the gods further. What we have is bad enough, I assure you.”
Theresa smiled back, though her expression was softer and far more genuine. “Nobody believes me, either.”
Ceaser stopped, whirled, eyes far too wide and too bright with rage. “Tomorrow your friend Atlanta will give you a black eye by hitting you with her elbow while dodging a thrown ice cream cone.”
“Oh come on-”
“There. See? You know that I have the gift of prophesy, but you do not believe that what I tell you is true. You will not listen.” He looked at Theresa mournfully. “No one ever listens.”
Theresa bit her lower lip, watching the strange boy she had come to for help. Ceaser was half mad, clearly more than ready to be rid of her. “I-”
“Shut up. Go away. You won’t listen to me, and I don’t waste my time.”