RP: Crimson Sword

[Nevtalathiel]

Again Tumnaooriel felt the urge to protect and heal as she saw Calixto suddenly fall in front of the group and again, she took charge, although this time without complaint from the others, most notably Culloth. This time it took only seconds for water and makeshift bandages to be produced and Tumnaooriel carefully took a strip of damp cloth with which to clean Calixto's numerous wounds. The others waited intently to discover the fate of their former leader, save only Culloth, who paced the area grumbling to herself.

Looking down at the extent of the wounds, Tumnaooriel's hand trembled, never before had she seen such dreadful wounds on one who had survived. Involutarily, a sob escaped her lips and her hand jolted. The fingers which had been holding the now blood soaked cloth brushed against Claixto's skin and a low moan passed his lips, but Tumnaooriel did not hear it. As soon as her skin touched Calixto's flesh, a memory of a feeling flashed through her. It was a memory which had been burned into the deepest parts of her soul.

The child lay there, so pale against the crimson sheets. The wounds were dressed, but would not stop bleeding and every minute the stain spread. Perspiration mixed with blood to soak the pillow, despite Tumnaooriel's constant attention. It was not her fault. There was nothing she could do, but they wouldn't listen. It wasn't the wounds which were killing the child, it was something else, something which stopped her healing, somethinng evil which had got hold of her and would not let go, something which scared Tumnaooriel more than she had ever known.

"There's nothing I can do for him." Tumnaooriel gasped, feeling tears rise before her eyes. "I've felt this before and there's nothing I can do." She turned, sobbing, from Calixto's fallen body and became once more the timid fearful creature she had been since the child had died.