Our World Forgotten

[6] Claimed

Ziva

"Be del lan vol'aíesk, et shu tuvë." His voice was like a song sung in a smooth, velvety foreign tongue. It was both interesting and frightening. Her mouth gaped in awe as she took in his features. She was so mesmerized by the rusty color of his steely cool gaze that she scarcely remembered his searing hot flesh embedding into the skin of her arms. He pulled her up and instinctually she moved her broken ankle backwards to help stabilize herself.

"Ah!" she cried out. She immediately collapsed again, her teeth bared in excruciation. He stepped towards her, back bent as he towered over her. "No! Stay back! Don't come any closer!"
He paused for a moment, his features appearing to drop in disappointment.

"You needn't fear me, Aha'ndier. Be del lan vol'aíesk, et shu tuvë." Then the Thorne Born went to her, his movements slow and resolute. His strong hands reached for her despite her sobs and continuous protests. He did his best to ignore the way she flinched away from him, though the Dragon inside of him writhed at the blatant rejection. Wrapping around her wrists, his too hot fingers curled securely, entrapping her in a vice like grip of effortless strength. There was another powerful surge of rage, deep loneliness and a lasting longing that echoed through her. She struggled against his grip, once more crying out and attempting to kick him away. However she only succeeded in grinding the broken bones in her ankle together, causing agony to knife through the marrow of her leg.
Reacting to the pain a shrill shriek tore from her until she felt the ground collide with her backside yet again. Her screaming halted, her eyes widening at the sudden coolness on her skin. She was free, and unexpectedly so. Mustering up as much courage as she possibly could, she glanced up at the man before her. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw tight and his fists were stuck to his sides, clenched so tightly she could see the whites of his knuckles. He was trembling as if he was the one in pain, as if he were the one terrified. It wasn't until he opened his eyes again that she registered the horrifying coldness, the shock and confusion of everything and more than a hint of blind rage.
She watched him carefully, somehow managing to maneuver herself over the petrified child next to her in a feeble attempt at protecting her.
He snapped his head up, flames dancing in the rust of his eyes as the color began to beat like a heart. A sudden burst of unbearable heat stole her breath away, steam rising from the ground as the snow melted and gave way to thick, sloshy mud. He'd encased them in a bubble made of fire, relying on the steam from the snow to provide them privacy.
His voice, deep and commanding, called out. A moment later, the Drackien Healer stepped through the translucent flamed walls of the barrier, followed closely by her mate brother. The Drackien Lord had sheathed his daggers into his belts, and as he stepped inside the protective bubble the Drackien King had erected, the soft glow that had attached itself to his skin had been snuffed out. He followed a few feet behind the Healer, casting a few curious looks between Ziva and the nightly woman as the approached. Though the Healer's face was solemn and filled with worry, Ziva felt nothing but reassurance and calmness radiating from her. Despite every conscious thought screaming at her to guard herself against their Drackien telepathic tricks she found her terror beginning to melt away. There was a voice in her mind-it sounded a lot like hers but somehow slightly different-telling her to trust the woman that was now crouched over her. She was in no danger. She could be calm. All would be well. The pain will be over soon.
Ziva found herself lost in a daze, lulled by the powerful and soothing pull of the woman's presence. Under Drackien influence she found herself powerless; she didn't even mind when the Healer reached out for her broken ankle. Her fingers, long, pale and elegant, danced over the broken area. Through her dazed state she felt a soothing heat combined with a slight tickle as power grazed over her and sunk into her flesh followed by a throbbing ache.
Her brows drew together and she lifted her head to watch in amazement as her bones set themselves. The marrow knitted itself back together as the edges realigned and straightened until a newer and stronger bone formed. Her eyes widened and she dared to place a bit of weight on the fully healed and unharmed ankle.
Ziva swallowed the lump in her throat and raised her dumbfounded and awestruck gaze to the Drackien Healer.