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You had stayed with the sandstone man. You had tried to help, your magic seeming to do nothing to the sores that oozed through his skin, nothing for the fever that refused to break or the pain you knew was there. Plants seemed to do even less to aid, much less than you would have liked. And so you had stayed, trying your best to soothe the pain, to distract him from it; you had suspected that he had lied about his discomfort, the half-hearted attempts at quelling the concern that had risen rapidly within your heart, and no doubt his too. When he had suggested moving from the safety of the little copse of trees you had found him in your only protest had been a reserved smile, a glimpse of the worry you had been harboring within your eyes and you had, as you seem to have been making a habit out of, followed him. You had hovered as closely as he allowed, a distinct lack of your own well-being, every now and again glancing nervously at the boils littering his skin, concerned with the fact that movement should only serve to irritate them, not to mention the fact that they seemed impervious to everything that you had tried. It is only as the trees thin and the sound of a fight trickles through the slender shoots that you realize just how tense you had been. Tired muscles protest as they tighten even further, your neck extending as teeth grab for the wild mess of his mane, missing by only centimeters as he flings himself forwards. “Rohan, please, don’t–” But he is gone, like you knew he would be, and you throw yourself after him, your feet aching both with the exhaustion stress has brought and the added weight of your swelling belly. “–Wait.” Where he had barreled through the stalks you do your best to swerve in and out of them, your comparatively slow plunge through the forest forcing you to lose sight on him for what seems like too long, fear bubbling thickly in the back of your throat like bile. The battle catches you a little bit by surprise as it weaves itself into being, the cluster of bodies somehow less organized than they had been previously, attacking both the goddess and the giant wolf instead of just the latter. You can only assume that this creature had appeared much like the bear, unless giant ravenous wolves were a thing here and you just hadn’t heard about it previously, and that the goddess must have done something to piss off those enough to blatantly attack her. Before any further speculations can be made the sandstone man turns to you, your eyes locking with his, milliseconds before he charges forwards again. You lurch after him, making it only a few strides before you stop suddenly, an instinct greater than that to protect him clouding your mind from what seemed like the only viable course of action for you to take: the instinct to protect your child. For moments you watch him, watch the colliding bodies and magic being thrown so carelessly about before you tear your eyes away, opting to conserve your energy for where it would be more useful than throwing yourself flailing at a god. And so, slowly, you make your way along the outskirts of the skirmish, looking for any plants that may be helpful for the wounds that you would no doubt have to mend before this would be over. You just hope, so fervently hope, that it will not be him that needs it, that, somehow, he manages to keep himself safe when you cannot. |
team doesn't give a fuck about the gods
* she'll be staying out of the fight, working to collect herbs and heal as needed ♥
please tag enna in every post
violence permitted barring permanent injury / death
