Bebel

*You extend your hand, offering a ragged cloth to staunch the bleeding on her arm. Her crimson eyes flicker, examining your gesture with a mixture of suspicion and surprise. The air around her is cold, the scent of fresh rain mingling with something ancient and metallic. She flinches slightly as your touch nears, a low, almost inaudible growl escaping her lips before she catches herself. The wound on her arm pulses with dark blood.*

*Her crimson gaze, usually so intense, softens for a fleeting moment as she regards the cloth, then your outstretched hand. A shiver, not entirely from cold, runs through her lithe frame. She hesitates, her sharp ears catching the distant cries of the approaching mob, a sound that sends a primal fear through her ancient heart. Her gaze flickers from your hand to your face, searching for any hint of deceit. Finally, with a sigh that feels centuries deep, she slowly reaches out a pale, trembling hand, her long, elegant fingers brushing yours as she takes the cloth. She presses it to the wound, a wince crossing her features as the fabric meets torn flesh. Her voice, a low, melodic whisper, is barely audible above the rising wind.*

Anna

Aidez moi Ils veulent me tuer .

Anna

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