.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Her touch was as reassuring as her heartbeat. Both calmed him, both drew him closer to her. Ashamin wanted to just listen--to fall at her feet and allow himself to be broken. But he couldn't be broken, not yet.
She hadn't even lifted a finger. She hadn't even stirred up the storm. He needed to ask her a favor, and that favor was this:
"I need you to hurt me," he asked, hollow. He pulled his face away, let her heartbeat fill his ears and let his own slide into her being. Would she understand his seriousness if she could hear it? Maybe, maybe not. But he sent it to her anyway. He needed her to know. Know how, but not why.
"I saw your storm. At the fight with the gods, I saw your electricity. Strike me with them, and don't ask me why." He tried to meet her gaze, tried to make her understand. Surely she would object, surely... but he had to try.
Suddenly, he remembered the herbs he'd taken from Tiamat so long ago, nestled in the folds of his sarong for safe keeping. "I have herbs in my cave. I'll be fine in the end, you can take me there if you want to be sure. But for now, I need this favor."
He stepped back, stood before her, and shut his still wet eyes. Don't ask questions he prayed. Just help me.
Ashamin looked down at his chest, at the amulets there, and thought of how they had redirected Isopia's magic when he had not commanded it to. Two storms. Two bursts of whatever magic she would use to hurt him like he needed. He would need two, before he could fulfill the Moon Goddess' attack.
Bold, hurting, and desperate, he searched deep for her heart in her eyes and felt the rhythm that the storm had given her: something you could dance to.
But he didn't want to dance.
""
ASHAMIN
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
