11-05-2007, 01:05 PM
She hardly registered his words, though deep down they resonated as true. She sat there, slowly pressing the blade deeper into her flesh. And then there was weight, the comforting sting of the blade at her wrist gone. Her eyes widened in horror and shock. No! Her voice exited in one shrill scream of disbelief, her eyes rivited on the blade in Lucifer's chest. She had a nightmarish return to New years eve, the night she'd killed Erik.
She couldn't hear herself anymore, couldn't breath. her vision had narrowed down to the patch of chest where the blade rose out like some sadistic piercing. Her voice continued to come out in a desperate wine, though no words were vocalized. She realized she had a deathgrip on his shoulders. Her mind was foggy with panic as she stared at him, indecisive.
And then her mind cleared, the healer in her taking over. She gingerly lowered him to the ground. Her eyes darted around; she could feel the panic welling up inside of her as she'd never felt it before. Was this how Soran had felt the night she found Deuce nearly dead? She blinked, clearing the memory out. Lucifer was not going to die if Deuce had anything to say about it. She took a deep breath and opened the pack she always carried with her. There were the clean cothes she made sure she carried in abundant supply.
She was speaking now, though she didn't relize it. The entire time her voice was lathered with the irish accent learned from Taliesin. Her hands were steady, even though her mind was racing. She spoke softly, pleadingly, not with Lucifer himself, but with his spirit, the core deep inside of him that would keep fighting. Don't die on me, i need you to live. I can't go on without you...please don't die...I'm so sorry... Intermixed with her pleas to him were fervrent prayers to Rhiannon.
She grasped the haft of the knife, closed her eyes, and pulled it out. She heard the metal blade scrape against bone, as ound she'd heard only once before. She banished the memory of Erik's blood, opening her yes and focusing on Lucifer as she pushed a wad of clean cloth over the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Please, Rhiannon, do not take him from me. I promise I will do anything, sacrafice anything, just do not take him from me. I will gladly lay down my life if you will only let him live. I need him, dear goddess. I love him and I need him more than I needed anyone before. Please, spare him. Her voice was choked as she spoke rapidly, unaware she spoke flawless irish. Her tears streamed down her face as she held the bandages to the wound.
She couldn't hear herself anymore, couldn't breath. her vision had narrowed down to the patch of chest where the blade rose out like some sadistic piercing. Her voice continued to come out in a desperate wine, though no words were vocalized. She realized she had a deathgrip on his shoulders. Her mind was foggy with panic as she stared at him, indecisive.
And then her mind cleared, the healer in her taking over. She gingerly lowered him to the ground. Her eyes darted around; she could feel the panic welling up inside of her as she'd never felt it before. Was this how Soran had felt the night she found Deuce nearly dead? She blinked, clearing the memory out. Lucifer was not going to die if Deuce had anything to say about it. She took a deep breath and opened the pack she always carried with her. There were the clean cothes she made sure she carried in abundant supply.
She was speaking now, though she didn't relize it. The entire time her voice was lathered with the irish accent learned from Taliesin. Her hands were steady, even though her mind was racing. She spoke softly, pleadingly, not with Lucifer himself, but with his spirit, the core deep inside of him that would keep fighting. Don't die on me, i need you to live. I can't go on without you...please don't die...I'm so sorry... Intermixed with her pleas to him were fervrent prayers to Rhiannon.
She grasped the haft of the knife, closed her eyes, and pulled it out. She heard the metal blade scrape against bone, as ound she'd heard only once before. She banished the memory of Erik's blood, opening her yes and focusing on Lucifer as she pushed a wad of clean cloth over the wound, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Please, Rhiannon, do not take him from me. I promise I will do anything, sacrafice anything, just do not take him from me. I will gladly lay down my life if you will only let him live. I need him, dear goddess. I love him and I need him more than I needed anyone before. Please, spare him. Her voice was choked as she spoke rapidly, unaware she spoke flawless irish. Her tears streamed down her face as she held the bandages to the wound.