Marlene is doing just fine, hurling curses every which way, carefully maintaining her shields, grateful for reflexes honed by years as a Quidditch Keeper. The thrill of battle is trembling in her limbs, and in the back of her mind she can feel echos of the same from Dorcas — in the same way that they've always been able to feel each other, soulmates to the core,
Except then Marlene feels a shock of pain in her chest, and then she's gasping for breath and it feels wet and rattling but when she looks down there's no wound and she knows.
The fluid is filling Dorcas's lungs too fast, and Marlene feels Dorcas's certainty that this is the end. Dorcas is a healer. She knows the prognosis for a punctured lung on the battlefield.
And Marlene can't breathe.
She can't breathe.
Marlene hisses in pain, drops to her knees clutching her side fruitlessly. She looks around with frantic eyes, trying to find Dorcas when they lost sight of each other ages ago.
She can't see her through the mass of people and spells and bodies.
She takes in a gasping, shuddering breath. Her chest is on fire, but Dorcas is not afraid.
Marlene is.
Marlene is terrified of living without her.
She thinks about all that Dorcas is — quick smiles and swirling skirts and the sharp click of heels on stone floors as she walked down the hallway. She thinks about the cloud of floral scene that always followed her and the way her hair always fell in her eyes.
Marlene needs her.
But Dorcas is leaving anyway.
Marlene takes another gasping breath.
But then the pain fades away, and it's worse.
It's worse, because now Marlene can't feel anything at all.
Dorcas is gone.
And Marlene doesn't get to mourn, because she has to get up, and keep fighting.
It feels impossible.
But she has no other choice.
For romance awareness: you feel what your soulmate feels.
Sophie's shelf: DorcasMarlene
Amazing women: click of high heels