AUTHOR'S NOTE: Little known fact, I do not, in fact, write Romance. I deal in Horror. (In fact, I've been working on one series for TWO YEARS!)
So this may be a bit bloody. They make it out okay though. Or some of them do.
(P.S. the purple blood is Klingon)
Panting, beating heart, the cries echoed in her pointed ears as she stared at the ground, lost to what was around her.
Blood stained her boots, it stained her hands, her arms, it had curled in her hair and dripped into her mouth with a bitter taste. Red, purple, green.
She stumbled, once, twice, clung to the rock face and stared back at her first officer, while the cries of the dying echoed in her head, echoed until she thought she would go mad.
Karina was even worse off then her, one arm hanging limp, the other wrapped around her chest, and pain etched on her face with a stone knife. Romulans had no fear of fear.
T'Prellan wanted to run, she wanted to scream, she wanted to claw at her head until the screams that still ran around where gone, gone forever, gone for as long as she would live.
Could she keep handling this, keeping handling death like it was normal? There was no regulation she could quote in the face of this. There was nothing to fall back on, nowhere to turn.
Run, run, run before it sets in! Her mind screams, and suddenly she can't handle it, she breaks, she dashes, she tries to make it to the shuttle pod because she can't handle this.
Karina caught her, slapped her with her one good hand, and left a smear of purple and green across her cheek. "Not yet." She wheezes, the air ripping through her poor lungs.
She wants to cry, she wants to scream, she wants to struggle against everything, she wants to struggle against Karina but who could she hurt her? Dear Karina...
The Romulan leans against her, and T'Prell can smell the death clinging to her disarrayed hair. Blood is in her nose, her mouth, her head, her heart but she can't get it out.
"Not yet, we've still got fight." Whispered the woman in he ear. "Hold on."
Not yet. She won't fall, not yet.