#15: Juliet & Claire
That narrowing of Juliet's eyes killed Claire inside. It wasn't easy to explain to regular people, that no one could touch her. She would never have abandoned her, she'd promised, but her entire life was spent avoiding contact unless absolutely necessary. This situation had been a necessity (as had been selling her granted powers under the guise of therapy, but that was neither here nor there), and icy fingertips that grazed her wrist had hopefully been unaffected. It was too late now to worry about it.
Claire fell back into the grass, what was once soaked with invasive dark damp now solid and dry. She was weak and hurt and certain she'd pulled a muscle, but there was a sense of satisfaction knowing that Juliet wasn't drowning in whatever that was. Okay, so she was throwing up nearby, but that was exponentially better than having her suffocated in tar. "Supernatural shit," Claire muttered softly, absolutely sure of that much. The exact source? That would have to be investigated in a minute. They deserved a rest. A short one. In spite of everything, at least she could still crack a smile, which may not have been the best to do to someone that was laughing from shock.
But, oh, moonlight. Pale white and welcome warm that illuminated through dark night and skeletal fingers of tree branches. Claire basked in the serendipitous parting of clouds that always seemed to let her know the Lord was watching over her. Even the low ache in her injuries passed for that short amount of time, and she sighed in contentment. "Are you alright?" Claire watched the woman beside her, careful in her judgment of her well-being. But the question had barely gotten out of her mouth before she was frowning once more. It was bright. Too bright. Heavenly pure and targeted towards the two women in the gentle brush of soft blades of grass.
Where the bog had been? That careful paved path which wandered into apple trees? Spotlight hit upon it, mere feet away from Claire and Juliet, and sudden laser precision blasted down from the sky. A crack echoed through the air, louder than snap of lightning and rang out like... a trumpet? A horn of some sort? Had a seal been broken? No. No. Claire would not be one of the Horsemen. Not tonight. She was pale, but she was certainly no rider. The flash was blinding, and in its wake was a storm of debris which rained down upon them both; splintered branches, scattered asphalt, dirt that had been melted into crystalline shards of shrapnel, and an ironic snowfall of disturbed (yet singed) apple blossoms. The blast itself was strong enough to push them both a few feet away, shockwave rippling through trees.
There was no time. "Dies Irae," Latin dripped from her lips even more comfortably than native Italian. "A warning." Not now, not now, not now. The bright spotlight centered around them both, no chance to even catch their breath. "Run," Not that she'd need to make the suggestion to Juliet. Running was pretty much a given. Claire scrambled to her feet, one hand scooping up her jacket and her other reaching out for her partner to offer help getting up if needed. They had to get out of there.