Disclaimer: you make me sad
Teaser: a love story told in blips
Author's Notes: it's official. I've now started school and it sucks. A.P. Gov and Ec. A.P. English, World Geography (because that's a freak requirement down here), Sociology, and Advanced Journalism (but only because my teacher begged me).
So in honor of the sudden bout of depression and lack thereof school spirit. Angst!
Bugger.
o027. Blood
"Are you alright?" is the first thing he asks her, hands busily running up and down her body as she rocks with tremors.
Ilyana can't stop looking at the blood that pools at the slash on his arm, the Warrior's axe having cut through the fabric of his shirt when he had thrown himself in the enemy's way.
Horror once again at what almost happened to him has her shuddering.
"Fine," she manages to croak and stands on her weakened feet. She had lost her balance when the axe had swung down and all she had been able to think was that she was going to die here, on the frozen, forsaken tundra of Daein.
And then Zihark had taken the hit meant for her.
He holds her close for a second and Ilyana doesn't dare to breathe, wondering he'll notice the way she protectively cups her upper stomach, her arms curling under her breasts.
Zihark doesn't and pulls away. "Damnit, where the hell is Rhys?" Ilyana knows. She saw the healer go down with a concussion earlier.
As the Swordmaster goes to call for the healer to do something about the nasty cut on his arm, Ilyana removes her arm from across her chest.
Red, red, red blood colors her clothes and her hand.
Dizzily, she lowers herself back to the hard cold, ground, eyes sliding close, and wonders absently if the afterlife in Daein is different from the one in Crimea.
That is how Zihark finds her. Curled into a ball with the snow dark red around her.
o013. Death
Rhys had said to stay with him. Make him comfortable. With only a Heal Staff left in the whole camp, there's nothing anyone can do.
Ilyana doesn't cry and she prides herself on that. Maybe he did teach her something if she can look down at his paling face and not burst into tears.
Absently, she brushes his hair away from his face. She opens her mouth to say something comforting to him… and shuts it. Ilyana has no voice.
He can't feel it. He can't feel it. He can't feel it, she thinks, her hand clenching for a long moment on his shirt and then loosening.
Suddenly there is gurgling and a strangled expelling of breath. Blood rushes pass his lips and she gnaws on her own until they are just as red.
And then all goes still.
She isn't sure how long she remains there, just staring at the once strong man before her. There is hardly any sound around her. All there is, for the longest time, is his body spread out beneath her fingers.
Then there is a rustle of movement behind her. Ilyana does not look up. It's probably Rhys.
Zihark plops down next to her.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, pulling her hand from its death grip on Mordecai's rugged, threadbare shirt. "I know… you cared about him a lot."
"He was so nice," she breathes and though she barely knows Zihark, she needs him more than she's needed anything before and slides into his arms.
As she sobs helplessly over Mordecai's death, Zihark holds her and lets Ilyana weep it all out.
note: ha, beat ya thought that was Zihark all dead, no? Mwhahaha. Actually Mordecai's support convo. with Ilyana are really cute! XD Not in the love/love kind way but a more protective-old-brother/sister thing. Makes me laugh. Yes, I have no sense of humor. And I'm thinking one last chapter (two?).
reviews
Crazymark: well, you know, if it weren't for spell check on Microsoft Word nothing would get posted with me. I don't think I passed a single spelling test once. Yes. That's how bad I am.
Story Weaver1: I like a lot of the possible pairings in PoR mostly because so many characters here are so underdeveloped it's really hard to get them OOC. I mean, you have to like try to be bad characterization for that game.
