Fiction: Helpless Pt. 1
He was heavy. Even with her and Shakta holding onto him, he was still heavy. She felt her arms aching as they were strained to their limits, but she refused to let go. Not him. Not ever.
She heard footsteps. Someone was running up behind them both. Help? She couldn’t turn around to look as she felt the hunter’s grasp slipping away from her.
“Ravine…” He smiled at her with that soft smile. “I’ll never hurt you again.”
Before she had time to question his words, she felt his hand slip away. She reached out towards him, trying to grab his hands, his fingers—anything at all. But there was only cold air to greet her outstretched hand as his figure grew smaller and smaller from view.
This couldn’t be happening.
This wasn’t real.
Her mind reeled at reality, as his name was screamed into the treetops of Teldrassil.
Stormwind was quiet tonight—oddly quietly. Not that this bothered Ravine. Peace and quiet was hard to come by in this city, or so she found. Yet, it felt… oddly appropriate after what happened.
In a small alcove in the Mage Quarter—in a place where Ravine once called home— she hid away from the rest of the world. Right now, nothing mattered more than the man that was laying down in front of her. Savras was resting on the old mattress, recovering from his wounds. Much of his armor (that hadn’t broken already) had been removed when a priest (whose name she forgot to ask) had came earlier in the evening to mend what bones that could be saved. However, she was still unsure. Both he and Shakta had fallen a long way when he slipped off the branches of Teldrassil. Was there still damage? Would he become paralyzed? A number of questions ran through the warlock’s mind as she reached out, taking one of his hands into both of hers, clasping it tightly.
It was already too late for the priestess when she and Mourne had found them hanging off from the roots of the large tree. Though their hands were still clasped tightly together, the fall had claimed Shakta’s life. Even now, she still couldn’t believe that one of her closest friends was now gone. Though Mourne could—no. The thought was killed immediately. She didn’t even want to think of him raising her body. The thought of that happening to her was grotesque—perverted even. She wanted nothing to do with him. Especially after… after he attempted to kill him when he should’ve helped.
Ravine reached over, stroking her hands across his bruised, bandaged face. If only I had held on tighter. If only I was stronger… Her expression contorted into anguish as tears fell onto the sheets.
“DAMMIT ALL!!” the warlock screamed as she buried her face into the sheets.