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Mistral
Blind impulse drove her staggering towards the quivering figure which repelled her even in this moment of weakness. She reached out, her trembling hand freezing as it made contact with the glowing spot. The mucus-like fluid was warm and smelt raw, so that she nearly retched.
Blood...
Afterward, she would not be able to recall how, in her delirious state, she had been able to carry his rock-hard body into his house, hearing his alternating muttered and loud oaths. All that was a blur. She only knew one thing: her heart was driving her, willing her to render whatever service she could to this man.
As he lay there now, she unsheathed the Shattered Reality and cupped his hands over the hilt, hoping that he could somehow be rejuvenated by its regeneration properties.
Then she backed away to a safe distance, still lingering at the locked door, her frantic eyes desperate to detect signs of his recovery. Little did she know that all this concern, all this inexplanable feeling was repelling the darkness for herself...
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