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Brynhild Ingouf (brynhild_ingouf) wrote in spinningcompass,

Bryn was grateful for the bin, or knew she probably would be. Almost as soon as he started chanting she had to drop to all fours. She choked back any sounds the pain wanted to squeeze out of her, for as long as she could. At least until her veins turned black beneath her skin. The sclera of her eyes a deep crimson, the iris a deep ebony. She cried out then. The spatula dropping from between her teeth. She dropped to her side then, in a fetal position, clutching her arms over her middle.

Before the end, rather than vomiting like they had predicted, the old black blood oozed from her finger tips, and toes, until her flesh was pink. And her eyes clear once more.

Bryn panted hard, her green eyes far less muddy than they had been before they had even started. They were a pale clear green, as she gazed up at him. Her voice was hoarse when she promised. "I'll clean the mess." But not right that second, she couldn't move more than laying flat.