Her chest tightened sharply as she watched. Distantly she could feel the blood running down the side of her face, but she was moving, now, numbly running between the debris left behind by Elemmire's attack. Stepping over dead bodies, and between pillars of stone which hadn't been there before. To get to him. To reach him. She might have been able to catch Elemmire if she had ran after her, but Aeotha couldn't leave Skandra, or the other injured, behind. He'd simply fallen to the ground as if he was dead already. The blood had drained from her face when she finally was upon him. Skandra was as mortal as anyone, even with his given race, he was a mortal. He had his weaknesses. How did Elemmire know? Aeotha barely knew, it was as good as dead. If it was in too long, if it splintered and broke and she couldn't find all of it. She didn't know how she was breathing. She was panicking, not because of how much had happened, but because he wasn't moving. He was bleeding. She put her hands over the stake in his shoulder. There was only one way to do this. She grimaced and yanked it out of his shoulder as quickly as she could.
She threw it away from him and covered his wound with her hands to stem the flow of blood.
"I can't." She whispered. "I can't heal you. What am I going to do."
Priestesses were moving between the ruins around them, some picking up the dead, others retrieving the injured. Paladins were sticking swords into the drow, checking, to see if any were alive. There was still a war going on. Magic of all sorts was streaking across the sky, lighting the area, and then darkening it again. Aeotha's fingers were trembling searching the wound as carefully as she could, focusing on that instead of his face. Anything but his face. Emotions were raw. She didn't know if she could trust him, but she wanted to. Wanted to even with everything he'd done and failed to do. Ignoring the past wasn't easy. It didn't just go away. The feelings never went away. You pushed them aside, buried them, but one moment you were fine and the next every feeling was back again even stronger than before. Aeotha knew that so well. She just had to make sure. His blood was covering her hands now. Nothing she could find. Not even the smallest piece. She tore away some of her robe which had already been torn from her fall.
She covered his wound and applied pressure to it with both of her hands.
"A potion? Do you have a potion, Skandra?" She tried to sound calm, but she wasn't in the least bit.
There were voices, she thought one of them was Fiaethe, ordering the priestesses and paladins around while Aeotha dealt with... with this. She pressed her right hand over the wound, and moved her left, taking hold of his chin as she moved her head, to look into his face. "Come on it isn't even that bad, right? You've looked worse.." She wasn't funny. None of this was. None of it. He'd been lying to her. He hadn't told her anything true since they'd seen each other again, had he? Not one thing. All of it caked in some other issue. The stone. Their past. These issues. She didn't know. She didn't know what to think of Skandra now. But she knew what to think of Skandra back then. She knew she couldn't bear to see him die. She knew she couldn't bear to see him hurt even a little.
So here she was, kneeling beside him and holding him as much as she could. Trying to hold herself together and to ignore her ever intruding thoughts.