Ahrk fin Kel lost prodah, do ved viing ko fin krah,
Tol fod zeymah win kein meyz fundein!

Faintly she hears the shuffling of Ghost's hooves. Subtle, almost hidden by the crashing of the waves upon the shore. But it's there, tugging at the dragonborn's attention - practically begging her to turn her head. Like a lasso around her neck, it tugs at her. She doesn't like not knowing, not seeing. Information is key to survival but she holds strong, green eyes stare unseeing across the endless blue. Would it help? Could facing the infected so directly be key to the transmission of the disease? The dragonborn may not know the answers but what she does know is that she'd never touched the stallion, never ventured than several lengths away. Here and now, she isn't about to gamble or test any theories. Had it been someone else, anyone else, the situation may have been entirely different. Perhaps then she wouldn't give a shit about spreading this rather irritating disease.

More steps. More silence. Then almost suddenly the sky darkens, drawing her attention upwards to see the rapid formation of storm clouds overhead. For the briefest of moments, she felt relief - not from the symptoms, mind you, but rather from the heat. The dark and angry clouds move in to block the sun and her lips curve into relieved smile. Just as her lips part with the intent of uttering some form of 'thank you, Akatosh' for the pleasant shade, something... drops of red start to fall from the clouds. In her confusion, she simply freezes. Since when did rain look like that? Wait, is that blood?! The dragonborn had little time to admire the blood rain because that's when it made contact with her skin. Each drop burned with a searing agony that almost instantly tenses her muscled form. She stumbles as she attempts to contort herself, tucking her head against her chest and clenching her jaw in the hopes of holding back the scream threatening to tear itself from her throat. A muffled, almost strangled cry manages to slip past her dark lips. Drop after drop pings against her dark flesh, streaking down her sides and clinging to her thick, tangled mane and tail. If it weren't for the pain, she'd probably be admiring her blood soaked hide.

The dragonborn squeezes her eyes shut and suddenly, like the flip of a switch, the pain is gone. Slowly the tension eases itself out of her body, leaving her trembling. Somehow, she managed to stay upright throughout the whole ordeal  but now she doesn't trust her legs to hold up her weight should she attempt to move. Oddly, however, her symptoms seem to ease. It isn't instantaneous, no, but her breath comes easier and the thickness in her throat seems to be dissipating as well. Inhaling as deeply, the dark mare feels the quivering lessen. For several moments she simply stood in the silence, quiet like a statue until Ghost's sweet voice tickles her ears. As the realization dawns on her, Dovahkiin carefully turns to face the other mare. "You...you did that?" she asks, but there is no anger to her tone, just admiration. "That's... impressive." her voice is sultry again, heated both by her presence and her magic. And really fucking hot. she adds mentally, a devious little smile curling her dark lips.

Dovahkiin, feeling remarkably better, takes slow yet measured steps towards her. Pinning her in her sickly green gaze and not bothering to hide the heat and intensity smoldering within, the dragonborn hopes to will the dark mare to stay. Oh, how she'd missed that face. "Where have you been hiding, dii vokun?" she asks as she slows her approach, careful to avoid scaring her off. She'd only just found Ghost again and she sure as hell isn't going send her running away yet. At least, she hopes not.

DOVAHKIIN