21. I'm not going to let you
Gathering the shattered pieces of her composure into a wearable mask, she pulls back to look at him.
Her eyes are immediately drawn to his shoulder and red-stained shirt. Her fingers flutter over the wound and her mask, not yet set, threatens to fracture once again.
"Its not that bad." He tells her, catching her hand.
But the wound is bleeding freely and the stain is spreading. Her mask slips.
"Soris," her voice cracks as she turns to look for him, "Soris, the healing potion we found..."
But Soris is already beside her, folding her searching hand around the bottle. She pulls her other from Nelaros' grip and rips the cork out. Liberally applying a quarter of the potion directly to the wound before handing the rest of it to the bemused Nelaros.
"Drink." She commands, rubbing her tingling fingers where some of the draught had splashed her.
"As the lady commands." He says, suppressing a smile, before downing the bottle's contents.
She watches intently, pulling his shirt away from the wound. The bleeding slows and then stops as the skin begins to knit together.
Nelaros bends down and gives her forehead a quick kiss. "I'm not going to die."
Her fingers tighten on his shirt, and her mask buckles before settling firmly in place.
She looks up, meeting his eyes "You're damned right you're not."
I'm not going to let you.