All her pain is forgotten as soon as the breath comes back to him. She ignores everything else as the emotion wells up inside of her again, his hands on her arms, alive and real. She's still covered in his blood, of course, but so is he and she shifts, ignoring her own pain to let her fingertips touch the edge of his cheek gently. He is back, he is alive, he was here and he was fine, he's fine, why do all her best friends die and then come back --
"Don't be mad at him, I didn't think either, I was just... I was so scared, Dorian, I forgot, my magic isn't back yet, just..." And she wants to demand that his focus lie on her and no one else, that he gazes at her and doesn't look to the side. She doesn't want him to see what she had done, the mangled and broken body of the woman, spine torn out and chipped at with teeth, flesh torn asunder and left ripped as her claws dragged through it. She doesn't want him to think that she's capable of that even though she knows she is. She doesn't want Dorian to think that she wanted this.
Slowly, her hand moves and rests over his, her breathing still a little heavy, not entirely calm, even as she looks at him.
"Dorian, I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better, you shouldn't have been forced to do that. I never wanted you to die, not because of me." And she's leaning forward, ignoring her pain and touching her forehead to his, basking in the fact that he's alive, that he's okay again, that she can feel how warm and solid he is. It's like centring herself to Dorian Gray, letting him bring her down from the edge of hysteria.
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All her pain is forgotten as soon as the breath comes back to him. She ignores everything else as the emotion wells up inside of her again, his hands on her arms, alive and real. She's still covered in his blood, of course, but so is he and she shifts, ignoring her own pain to let her fingertips touch the edge of his cheek gently. He is back, he is alive, he was here and he was fine, he's fine, why do all her best friends die and then come back --
"Don't be mad at him, I didn't think either, I was just... I was so scared, Dorian, I forgot, my magic isn't back yet, just..." And she wants to demand that his focus lie on her and no one else, that he gazes at her and doesn't look to the side. She doesn't want him to see what she had done, the mangled and broken body of the woman, spine torn out and chipped at with teeth, flesh torn asunder and left ripped as her claws dragged through it. She doesn't want him to think that she's capable of that even though she knows she is. She doesn't want Dorian to think that she wanted this.
Slowly, her hand moves and rests over his, her breathing still a little heavy, not entirely calm, even as she looks at him.
"Dorian, I'm so sorry. I should have protected you better, you shouldn't have been forced to do that. I never wanted you to die, not because of me." And she's leaning forward, ignoring her pain and touching her forehead to his, basking in the fact that he's alive, that he's okay again, that she can feel how warm and solid he is. It's like centring herself to Dorian Gray, letting him bring her down from the edge of hysteria.