He’s standing still when she sees him, when her heart breaks in her chest: and when all the pieces slowly begin to burn. Watching her, looking her over- staring as if unsure and she feels the dizziness of her excitement and all the butterflies that metaphorically swarm in her chest: a knot in her belly weight like iron, and she chokes when he takes his first step to her. With all his weight, he holds her and stops her from crumbling: and she feels the warmth of his skin and smells the dried blood and earth- for a moment she swears he smells like dried brine and dust- like Pangea. Briella remains however, close and steady, pressing against him with her eyes closing and body shuddering and trembling from fever.
Dovev is familiar in a way that makes her think of summer heat, comfortable and warm- a memory that makes the heart race and her mind scatter as she feels the bits of breath and the soft velveteen of his nose on her neck and head- mussing the wavy silvery-blonde hair. She speaks and he presses against her cheek, her neck- and for a moment there is strange feeling on her skin: the tickling kisses of whiskers. Her own nose is bloodied from the plague, dripping and coated with dried traces- and she manages a weak attempt to suppress the cough.
Briella is not without a gift, however, or curse: there is ice in her hair and frost on her body: melting and gleaning in the sun but unable to be taken away truly. The crystalline additions glow softly and begin to reverberate as she strains herself: inhales and focuses. “Let me help you,” she whispers into his neck- head small head pressing against his shoulder. “Please.” she whimpers, Briella’s heart is breaking- and she focuses this strange magic… this newfound power.
It’s cold, endlessly cold- like a wintry breeze that steals away all the heat from both of them. The ice glows, and she draws power from this- surging the energy between them in desperation to get rid of his symptoms: of the plague if possible.
In the end she’s dizzy, tired and weak- exhausted and slow to move or to even speak. He speaks of tender promises and regrets, of how he wants her to stay and remain close. Parts of her are too tired to fight and yet? She has no will to do so either, instead Briella can only lean against him- nodding and finally finding her voice. “I don’t want to leave you, I don’t want to-” she trails off, wobbling and sighing as she picks herself up and keeps herself strong for the moment.
“Nobody told me magic was so hard to do.” blood drips down her nose, and Briella just chuckles: half sobbing as she feels the fever and pain in her body. “There is a lake in the northern part of Isle- it’s shaped like a heart… it was really pretty. If anything happens to me, take me there. Please.”
Dark, her words are much darker.
@[Dovev] @[Officials] She tryna heal the symptoms Dovev has