A Court of Shadows and Rage (Azriel x OC)

Two Flames in a Ring

"Please," she begged, but it was too soft, too quiet. Surely it wasn't her voice.

Brinna tried again. "Please," she panted. "Go away."

She waited, braced herself for something to hurt, something worse. She had fought, hard, and there was nothing left. She did not even cower as he sat next to her, the bed shifting beneath his weight. 

"No," he whispered, his voice tight. "I'm sorry. I let it get out of hand." 

Shock coursed through her, but she was so tired, so broken she was not sure how to respond, to react. She didn't move, staying curled to her side as best she could, her burned wing splayed out to her side. If it didn't hurt so damn badly, she would pull it in tight - protectively. But every muscle ached.

"Brinn," he beckoned, his hand raising to lay against her sweat-coasted cheek. "Please, forgive me. I'm not – I don't want you to-"

A sob broke from her before she could help it. He stopped speaking, a strangled noise etching hard out of his rasping throat, muttering continuous apologies. He pulled something from his pocket, but still Brinna refused to look at him.

Something so cool it felt like ice touched her wing and she hissed, jerking back despite the pain. Her blue eyes locked with the dark brown of the male across from her. In his hands lay a silver tin, some shimmering goo-like salve dripping from his fingers. 

"It'll help," he whispered. "With the pain, and the healing." 

His fingers touched the inner corner of her wing again, more tentatively and she watched with guarded, tearfilled eyes as he gently mended her wound. 

"You didn't stop it," she whispered, her voice seeming to echo as the room shifted and spun around him. He didn't react to her words, continuing his ministrations. She tried again, the room growing dark around them, and still he said nothing, just moving in that same continuous pattern. 

It started to hurt. 

"Stop it."

He was grabbing her wing, hard. He was pulling, as she thrashed about, clawing and gripping, moving like he might try to rip it with his bare hands. It was a hot, searing pain, so raw and inhumane that it felt like someone had poured lava across her skin. 

She was screaming, begging, thrashing beneath his hands as they multiplied, trying to pull her wings from her body. 

"Stop it! Stop it - please!"

Brinna woke with a scream still stuck in her throat, sitting upright in a pool of sweat. She grasped the sheets, orienting herself to the room and reaching back to touch her – 

Gone. Her wings were gone. She wasn't sure if it was relief from the pain or a broken, desolate sadness that wracked through her body at the empty feeling inside her. They were gone, as permanently as the scars the marked her back to prove they had once been there. Her arms lifted to hug herself in tight.

She reached for the glass she now always kept by her bed, downing the water as quickly as she could, nearly choking. 

It was a mistake. 

Brinna sprinted across the room, landing hard against the porcelain as she vomited hard, so hard it hurt. It took a long while before she was done dry-heaving, head plastered to the side of the toilet and hot tears of anger, exhaustion and effort laid against her cheeks.

"You don't look so good."

She raised her eyes as much as she could manage, seeing her General Commander leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. He was clad in his leathers, red siphons glimmering in the morning light from the windows behind him. His wings were tucked in tightly, and Brinna wondered if he was doing it on purpose in her presence.