As he inhaled her delicate fragrance, a combination of honey and almonds,
he realized that something was wrong. Her posture had relaxed which should
mean that her body was riding out the pain but her pulse had become almost
nonexistent.
As intoxicating as she is I'll soon be holding a corpse if I don't tend to this burn. I must force her reply out of my mind. Enough~ she's wounded and delirious she probably didn't even hear or understand what you said.
Ian shook his head back and forth, as if that motion could sweep the cobwebs of clinging thoughts aside. Cautiously he set Sara back down onto the couch, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace she had finally achieved. These actions completed he ran quickly to her bathroom, hoping that she kept some kind of first aid kit for emergencies. Knowing that every second he was away she might loose her tenuous hold on life he quickly scrabbled through her drawers. Hopefully she will excuse the mess if she wakes up. No I can't think that way, not if but when. The witchblade must not let her die!
Close to panic he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when his fingers felt the smooth plastic contours of the box. For once he was happy to see the glaring red symbol that renewed his hope. Running back to the couch he was at a loss for how to proceed. Her shirt has to be removed if I am to clean the wound. I can hardly wake her and ask for permission.I'll just have to take it off there's, no way around it and if she survives I'll gladly endure her anger at the trespass.
A blush blooming in his cheeks he reached for a pair of scissors and began the tricky procedure of cutting off Sara's shirt. Tricky only because his hands were shaking, spying on her and seeing her without clothes was one thing but taking them off yourself, that was another. With much trepidation he peeled back the garment to expose the jagged hole complete with burnt edges and her Victoria Secret bra, among other things. It was black with lace edging he reluctantly noticed. Grabbing the bottle of alcohol he began to clean the wound free of dried blood and burnt fabric. He could remove bullets in a snap, but third degree burns made by supernatural weapons had not been included in his training.
* It was hot and dry. So dry it had to be the desert Sara thought while she picked at the sheer material she was clothed in. Dimly she realized that the witchblade had taken her somewhere else, the analogy of being burned alive no longer applying to her current state. Slowly other senses made their presence known as the gentle breeze carried the scents of the Nile to her, lotuses and marsh water. Looking at her wrist the eye of the witchblade glowed an emerald green before it sucked her free will into the swirling vortex of the stone! "My power was weakening and you have out lived your usefulness." Echoed a commanding voice composed of blood and light. At the same moment a shadow detached itself from the corner of the chamber. "Don't worry my dear Cleopatra, or what ever name you're going by this incarnation, the witchblade hasn't deserted you I have. Our alliance no longer holds, by dawn tomorrow the Romans will march on your palace and the shadows will not protect you." With a last parting cackle the shadow slithered out of the door. To her amazement a snake crawled out of the witchblade. To her horror it was an Asp, while it oozed up her arm and stopped at her chest she realized that she was no longer afraid. Then the pain came, total mind-numbing flames that started in her chest at the base of her neck. Before it got worse the witchblade mercifully ended her life, for now. *
"Sara NO! Don't give up! The witchblade still needs you, here in this life." Ian screamed as he caught a brief flash of the vision. Just as quickly he was shown another vision, a vision that could save her. Carefully he held her wrist with the witchblade over his heart and prayed that it would spare her. Blue and white sparks fought for dominance at the corners of his eyesight. He felt rather than saw the Blade burrow into his soul, but there was no pain for he was protected. His devotion and love towards the Wielder pleased the Blade so it only took some of his life force and not all.
"You please me Knight so I will let you live, if that is your choice. The path of Death would spare you much pain. Your thoughts echo loudly, so be it. I'll leave you just enough of your inner core to tend to my wielder and a gift." The voice composed of light and blood faded from his mind as the metal tendrils retracted from his heart.
Ian watched in awe as his ring filled with light and the metal bled. The metal bled a single white and dusk blue tear that condensed into two interconnected circles.
As intoxicating as she is I'll soon be holding a corpse if I don't tend to this burn. I must force her reply out of my mind. Enough~ she's wounded and delirious she probably didn't even hear or understand what you said.
Ian shook his head back and forth, as if that motion could sweep the cobwebs of clinging thoughts aside. Cautiously he set Sara back down onto the couch, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace she had finally achieved. These actions completed he ran quickly to her bathroom, hoping that she kept some kind of first aid kit for emergencies. Knowing that every second he was away she might loose her tenuous hold on life he quickly scrabbled through her drawers. Hopefully she will excuse the mess if she wakes up. No I can't think that way, not if but when. The witchblade must not let her die!
Close to panic he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when his fingers felt the smooth plastic contours of the box. For once he was happy to see the glaring red symbol that renewed his hope. Running back to the couch he was at a loss for how to proceed. Her shirt has to be removed if I am to clean the wound. I can hardly wake her and ask for permission.I'll just have to take it off there's, no way around it and if she survives I'll gladly endure her anger at the trespass.
A blush blooming in his cheeks he reached for a pair of scissors and began the tricky procedure of cutting off Sara's shirt. Tricky only because his hands were shaking, spying on her and seeing her without clothes was one thing but taking them off yourself, that was another. With much trepidation he peeled back the garment to expose the jagged hole complete with burnt edges and her Victoria Secret bra, among other things. It was black with lace edging he reluctantly noticed. Grabbing the bottle of alcohol he began to clean the wound free of dried blood and burnt fabric. He could remove bullets in a snap, but third degree burns made by supernatural weapons had not been included in his training.
* It was hot and dry. So dry it had to be the desert Sara thought while she picked at the sheer material she was clothed in. Dimly she realized that the witchblade had taken her somewhere else, the analogy of being burned alive no longer applying to her current state. Slowly other senses made their presence known as the gentle breeze carried the scents of the Nile to her, lotuses and marsh water. Looking at her wrist the eye of the witchblade glowed an emerald green before it sucked her free will into the swirling vortex of the stone! "My power was weakening and you have out lived your usefulness." Echoed a commanding voice composed of blood and light. At the same moment a shadow detached itself from the corner of the chamber. "Don't worry my dear Cleopatra, or what ever name you're going by this incarnation, the witchblade hasn't deserted you I have. Our alliance no longer holds, by dawn tomorrow the Romans will march on your palace and the shadows will not protect you." With a last parting cackle the shadow slithered out of the door. To her amazement a snake crawled out of the witchblade. To her horror it was an Asp, while it oozed up her arm and stopped at her chest she realized that she was no longer afraid. Then the pain came, total mind-numbing flames that started in her chest at the base of her neck. Before it got worse the witchblade mercifully ended her life, for now. *
"Sara NO! Don't give up! The witchblade still needs you, here in this life." Ian screamed as he caught a brief flash of the vision. Just as quickly he was shown another vision, a vision that could save her. Carefully he held her wrist with the witchblade over his heart and prayed that it would spare her. Blue and white sparks fought for dominance at the corners of his eyesight. He felt rather than saw the Blade burrow into his soul, but there was no pain for he was protected. His devotion and love towards the Wielder pleased the Blade so it only took some of his life force and not all.
"You please me Knight so I will let you live, if that is your choice. The path of Death would spare you much pain. Your thoughts echo loudly, so be it. I'll leave you just enough of your inner core to tend to my wielder and a gift." The voice composed of light and blood faded from his mind as the metal tendrils retracted from his heart.
Ian watched in awe as his ring filled with light and the metal bled. The metal bled a single white and dusk blue tear that condensed into two interconnected circles.