Dark Drabble 07

He had screamed when he saw her, falling back against the door, horror in his eyes. Lezard knew that for as long as he lived, he would never ever forget the way he had felt in that moment. The twisting emotions he had experienced upon seeing Lenneth lying on the floor, slumped sideways in a rapidly expending puddle of her own blood. For one brief second his heart had stopped, Lezard staggering forward, desperate to reach her.

It took him all of three seconds to reach her side, but to the necromancer it felt like an eternity had passed by. His breathing was heavy as he knelt down beside her, rapid pants speaking of his distress. She was so pale! Paler than he had ever seen her, as though all her blood had been drained out of her. The very blood he was crouching in, staining his clothes with it as he reached for her.

Lezard struggled with her limp body, pulling her upwards, seeing the numerous cuts in her arms. There was nothing accidental about the ugly looking gashes, they were precise, deliberate, speaking volumes of her pain. Pain he didn’t want to dwell on, pain he knew he was the cause of, and it left him feeling disgusted with himself. He shook his head, fingers letting go of her to pull at his shirt. He tore at the material, ripping it off him, wrapping the shirt around her right arm. Strips from her dress were ripped free, Lezard winding those tattered ribbons around her left wrist, relieved the damage to that arm was only minimal. It was Lenneth’s right arm that bore the brunt of her attack, oozing blood, even as he tightened the shirt around her flesh.

Lezard struggled to stand, rising with Lenneth in his arms. He was careful not to jostle her too badly, her arm across her waist, shirt secured tightly around it. He took stumbling steps forward, carrying her to the bed, gently laying her down on top of the dark sheets. He leaned over her, lifting up her left wrist, seeing the glass that was embedded in her hand. He pulled at the tiny shards, wincing as they tore free, but still Lenneth did not stir, not even enough to let out a whimper of pain.

For the first time ever, Lezard mourned his lack of training as a healer, wishing he knew the magic spells that would revive her, heal her injuries seamlessly. Instead he had to settle for doing it by hand, conjuring bandages and disinfectant to his side. He rubbed the alcohol into her cuts, determined to make sure she didn’t further complicate things by getting an infection. And then he was unraveling gauze, Lezard covering her hand, and wrist with the white bandages, securing it into place with tape.

He then turned to her right arm, biting back a displeased hiss as he peeled back his shirt, the material already clinging to her wounds, sticky with her blood. Angry red welts were on her arm, jagged edges that marred her once flawless skin. There was so much blood here, making Lezard fear for Lenneth’s chance at survival. His hands shook, but he began rubbing her wounds clean. Moving quickly, bringing out the gauze, taping her up from wrist to just a few inches past her elbow.

He breathed a bit better once her arm was taped up, his hands going to her waist, shifting her upwards on the mattress. Lezard was settling Lenneth against the pillows, trying to make her as comfortable as possible, even as he held her, whispering softly, “Please come back to me.” Over and over again he begged her, sometimes growing angry as she continued to doze, hanging on the edge of the abyss between life and death.

Finally his patience was rewarded, she began to stir, a low moan emerging from her parted lips. Lezard watched as her eyelids fluttered, slowly opening to reveal cerulean eyes dulled with pain and confusion. It took Lenneth a second to realize where she was, the Valkyrie staring past him up towards the ceiling. He stroked her hair, telling her how relieved he was, how gladdened his heart felt to have her back with him. Promising Lenneth that he would never, ever leave her side.

Suddenly she was making noise, muted sobs as she tried to sit up. It was heart wrenching to hear her, a loud wail of no coming from Lenneth as she struggled against his hold on her. She was positively energetic, vigorous wiggling that left Lezard fearing her wounds would open, and he yelled at her to stop. She ignored him, a hard jerk against his arms, angry, panicked cries accompanying her actions.

Lezard didn’t know how it happened, he was suddenly on top of her, hands gripping her upper arms, careful to avoid the bandages on her right one. He was pushing her down onto the mattress, listening to her scream. Her vocal protest only grew in frequency, loud and piercing, hurting his ears. Never had Lenneth screamed like this before, never had Lezard heard her emit such grief.

He was moving, pressing his lips onto hers, catching her in mid scream. He kissed her, hoping to calm her, listening to the whimpers against his mouth, feeling her wiggle and squirm underneath him. Desire flared in him, keen interest at the way her body moved against his, and he deepened the kiss even as Lezard cursed himself for allowing arousal to firmly take root.

Lenneth went almost limp beneath him, movement limited to the soft rise and fall of her chest, the Valkyrie seeming to concede defeat. Lezard broke away from her mouth, cautious should she start screaming again. But not a sound emerged, and he sighed in relief, going to bury his face against her neck. Her pulse beat against his lips, another sign of her continued survival, and he kissed against her throat, grateful for the beating of her heart.

He let go of her arms, one hand reaching up to wind in her hair, a soft pull to the side to reveal the line of her neck to him. His lips caressed her throat, working her skin over, even as his other hand moved to rest against her belly. He felt her inhale deeply, a heavy sigh emitting as Lenneth prepared to speak. Her words came out, her voice sounded broken and low, their very nature causing Lezard to freeze against her, horror in his eyes as he lifted his head to look into her eyes.

“You should have let me die.”