Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, |
The words were nonsense to Ari’s ears, reaching her through a haze. Her vision had narrowed on the two crumpled forms on the ground, and it was not to Mag that she said it, although it was answer enough, a mantra chanted over and over and over with rising hysteria: “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!” “I don’t care if you can or not! Just do it!” Mag’s leg threatened to give way underneath her, but she pushed past any concern for her own well-being and forced herself to Jump once more. This time, on the way down, she felt the blow connect, the ethereal veil of light around the thing fading. She tried to go again, but before she could the monster turned on Ari. It reared back to slam into the bard and instinctively Mag threw herself in front of her, the only faint glimmer of hope that remained for them now curled up in a ball on the ground. The impact pushed Mag back, but did not knock her down entirely; she stayed up, barely, and as soon as the beast drew back—to ready its next assault, no doubt—Mag rounded on Ari and grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, forcing her into a sitting position. “I said heal her! Sing!” Her voice hitched on a sob. “They’re dead until you heal them! You have to bring her back!” Ari might have argued, if she had fully comprehended what had been shouted at her. She could not bring people from the dead. She could only -- Sing. The only word that penetrated through the sickly melange of sickness and grief. That and the hand on her shoulder, rough and insistent. I can’t it won’t do any good there’s nothing I can do I can’t -- Sing. It was automatic, really, hopeless, but still on her knees as she had fallen, she raised her hands, began to play woodenly. Her voice came, plaintive and smaller than it should have been, but it came after a moment. Life Song, which could not restore life, but she could hardly remember to breathe, let alone think for herself, and she had been told to sing, so her broken mind curled around the simplest, most familiar thing she knew. “Good.” Mag turned her attention to the monster, but kept Aspel within her field of vision. Ari was singing. Any moment now, Aspel would rise, and everything would be okay. Not yet, but she would soon. Soon. That she was muttering the same thing over and over did not register; she Jumped again, and again, trying to bring the beast down, to keep its attention focused solely on herself, to give Aspel time to rise from the ground and join her and be all right. And then, amazingly, she did. Light flooded in, a sort of grey coloring the insides of closed eyes, ever so faint, and suddenly fingers twitched, pulling at Drake’s unintentionally - a reflex - and a sharp, loud gasp cut through the air, eyes snapping open as her chest heaved with a desperate attempt to fill her lungs with air. “Drake.” The name came out on another gasp, her voice not cracking this time, and briefly, as she stared up at the mist darkened sky, Aspel had to wonder if she had found herself waking in hell. That would be an appropriate end to her life, no? She had always feared winding up here, and now she would find out just precisely what it was like. Fingers curled, realizing - finally - as feeling was beginning to return to her body and mind, that there was another hand in her own, and that there was a song drifting through the air in the destruction filled streets with her. |