'Cause I'm not in a right state of mind
I just wish I had strength to admit it
My stubbornness will put up a fight
But I don't deserve to win it.
I just wish I had strength to admit it
My stubbornness will put up a fight
But I don't deserve to win it.
She wasn’t answering.
She wasn’t answering.
Israfel heaved, shivering violently where she stood, flashes of sudden floods spotting her mind, recalling visions of torrential landslides, of bodies caked in grime and muck that she had been too slow to save, too weak, to tired…
She took a step back, trembling, staring blankly, vermilion eyes wide as she stared at the wooden door. It was there. The door was there, the clinic was still there, so why was Luvena not answering her door?
Just as she opened her mouth to scream the mare’s name once more, something caught her ear. She paused, an ear lifting, straining to hear over the pouring rain, the merciless wind, and the crack of thunder overhead…
’Isra!’ Her name. It was her name. From nearby?
Panic stole her breath as she turned, her head swiveling almost too slowly when in reality there was nothing slow about it, wide eyes blinking at the sudden form of Luvena as the slight mare rushed up to her side. There was a slow moment, as though time halted, where Israfel’s panic-stricken mind refused to understand or comprehend what was happening.
Luvena was speaking. She was speaking, but her words were like water, spilling from her lips to be lost amidst the sodden streets. The smaller lady, so frail, so thin, goodness, but when was the last time she had eaten?, opened the door, ushered her inside into blissful darkness and out of the raging storm. It echoed around them, creaking the structure of the clinic, but for the moment they were safe.
Vermilion eyes were locked on Luvena, looking her over, assessing her, making sure she was alright. Was she alright? The poor thing, she looked cold. Israfel’s heart raced within her breast, her pulse pounding in her ears, panic still cloying her throat and making words impossible… The Sun Daughter had faced death, had died, had fought and bled and stood up against foes thrice her size and never, not once, had she experienced such a panic.
“You’re wet,” she wheezed out rather dumbly, only able to find the croaked words when the smaller mare offered her a pelt to warm up with, “Lu, I thought… I thought…” There were a few moments longer that lingered, passing by them to be lost amidst the chill in the air, before she reached out and plucked the pelt from Luvena’s grasp. She hesitated, thinking for a brief, foolish, cruel moment to wrap the pelt around Lu’s slender shoulders even though the said lady already shrouded herself in one, and even as the words caught in her throat she pulled the offered pelt over her own shoulders and folded wings.
Let me take care of you, she wanted to say, but the words would not come. I need to take care of you.
Instead, she croaked out, “I-I’m sorry. I’m fine, I didn’t mean to worry you, I just… I wanted to make sure you were alright.” She paused. Laughed once. Choked. Gasped. ”This storm? She’s a bitch.” The Sun Daughter heaved, trembling in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.
@Luvena
