You better pray. Who: Bren and Noah Where: downtown Ann Arbor When: early-mid afternoon, after this and before this
Jokull was gone, and Bren was in the street. She kept trying to call down fire, but she couldn't, didn't even know what she'd do with it if she got it. Probably just nuke the street. A small group had gathered around her now, trying to get her to speak, say what was wrong. She was pretty obviously in pain, mouth open wide, tears streaming down her face, shaking and flinching away anytime anyone touched her. Her bag lay forlornly at her side and she'd tried to get to her phone, but touching anything just made the searing pain worse, like the worst possible block of solid ice and having your hands on it for hours, except this had come on in a matter of seconds, and had only lasted a minute or two so far. She couldn't breathe, every muscle in her body seized up in pain, trying to resist whatever it was attacking her, but any movements of her body were useless here.
On the plus side, Bren was not thinking about Mosiah, for the first time in a few days. On the minus side, it was because she couldn't think, could only feel, and the only thing she felt was pain, terrible pain. This seemed inconsequential at the moment, but she had a bloody handprint on her wrist where Jokull had grabbed it to cast the spell, a telltale sign of what was happening to anyone who knew what they were looking at.