Maea
And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die
It heals them when you die
The grass was more than damp. Her skin sizzled and bubbled nastily around the deep cut but the hiss died down soon enough, and almost too quickly the sensation of alarm began to fade. With no heart to race and no lungs to gasp for air it was only her mind that raced, battered and bruised from the woman's abuse and what her own hands had done.
Looking down at them, Maea stared numbly at the blood that coated the pale skin. Her gaze went to the woman in the grass. The crushed flowers. The hilt of a very familiar dagger that protruded from a chest that barely moved.
"No... No no no!" Scrabbling to her feet, the girl stumbled over and fell to her knees next to the fae, whose name she didn't even know. Maea was no healer. She didn't know injuries like these. But the look in those eyes, that vacant expression - it wasn't good.
Impulsively she grabbed for a bronze-skinned arm. Shook it until that nasty odd dagger fell out, and without thinking Maea buried her fangs into the limb. The ecstasy that came rushing was nauseating in that moment, and secondary; without knowing what she was doing she fumbled for something, anything that might help. She released Nephele's arm, and a pale glow appeared around her own hands that tried to staunch the flow of blood.
The dagger. It was in the way. Maea reached for it, pulled it out - and she pressed her still glowing hands to the deep wound, even as blood began to bubble up around her fingers. Overflowing, dying them crimson.
"Please, don't die. Don't go, I'm so sorry! You're going to be okay, please, just please be okay - " Sobbing, she leaned over the red-haired Fae and tried to catch her gaze.
Looking down at them, Maea stared numbly at the blood that coated the pale skin. Her gaze went to the woman in the grass. The crushed flowers. The hilt of a very familiar dagger that protruded from a chest that barely moved.
"No... No no no!" Scrabbling to her feet, the girl stumbled over and fell to her knees next to the fae, whose name she didn't even know. Maea was no healer. She didn't know injuries like these. But the look in those eyes, that vacant expression - it wasn't good.
Impulsively she grabbed for a bronze-skinned arm. Shook it until that nasty odd dagger fell out, and without thinking Maea buried her fangs into the limb. The ecstasy that came rushing was nauseating in that moment, and secondary; without knowing what she was doing she fumbled for something, anything that might help. She released Nephele's arm, and a pale glow appeared around her own hands that tried to staunch the flow of blood.
The dagger. It was in the way. Maea reached for it, pulled it out - and she pressed her still glowing hands to the deep wound, even as blood began to bubble up around her fingers. Overflowing, dying them crimson.
"Please, don't die. Don't go, I'm so sorry! You're going to be okay, please, just please be okay - " Sobbing, she leaned over the red-haired Fae and tried to catch her gaze.
And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh
A whisper within a sigh
