you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

His voice was so very far away as she fights to regain her consciousness; though that venom that so courses through her blood burns like fire. She's unable to move; she's only vaguely aware of a warm body hovering over her lithe frame, and the trickle of blood that pours from her open wound. Tetradore's fangs had successfully punctured through her suit; though it was flame retardant it didn't stand a chance with those feral teeth. Another groan escapes her lips as she fights to drag herself through that inkiness of awareness. How she wanted to rage on Ivan. How she wanted to question about what just happened. The assassin had indeed transported herself across that room and in front of Ivan; it was such a bizarre feeling, yet, her mind is yanked away from her slow-moving thoughts as she feels strong, warm hands scoop her up.

How she wants to nestle into that warmth; yet she's limp in his arms. Her head lolling onto his chest as another whimper of pain tears from her throat. It's then that she feels the billowing blankets wrapping themselves around her and the cushion of the pillows. How she wants to open her eyes and tell him to move her; anywhere but the bed. How she despised this bed. Alas, she's too far under to do so; only managing to groan unintelligibly at the were-King. As quickly as Tetradore laid her onto the bed; that consciousness pulls her under again as she drifts through her memories; reality and dreams merging. Vhalla wasn't entirely sure how long she was out for; only that when she finally came to, her body was coated in a sheen of sweat. A fever racking her frame and still that fire burns through her veins; though a bit more manageable now.

Blinking her eyes open, it takes longer than the assassin would like to focus her gaze on the ceiling. The wooden beams of the four-poster bed spinning in her peripheral view. Wincing, she tilts her head slightly to the naked man sitting on her bed; clamping her teeth shut as pain wrecks her body. It takes a moment before she can open her lips to speak without screaming; though she's very nearly panting by the time the pain passes. "You..." she swallows speaking past the hoarseness from screaming, "You tried to fight for me," she says quietly, a brow raised questioningly. "Why?" she chokes out, her crystal eyes still locked on Tetradore's face. As she waits for an answer, she looks down at the blankets piled on top of her, here gaze fuzzy as she inspects the white linen. Swallowing her distaste, she turns pleading eyes back on Tet.

"Will you please move me somewhere else? Anywhere but the bed, you can even just move me to the ground. Just not here... please," she pleads at Tetradore; her eyes wide with pain. Though that survival instinct started to kick in; she knew she would be better off resting in the bed; the assassin merely couldn't stand the sight of it. The horrible things Ivan did to her waged war in her mind; that scent of fear drifting off her lightly, "Ivan... he..." she's unable to finish her sentence before her gaze turns to the ceiling as she swallows, though it was easy to figure out what was implied in those two words. Part of her was surprised she could speak of the things he had done to her; the thoughts nor the words that desperately wanted to be spoke didn't burn her, Vhalla simply could not bring herself to tell Tetradore.

What would the were-King think of the things she had done? And in turn, done to her?

She didn't want his pity. Though, in the short time she had known Tet, she couldn't imagine the King pitying anyone. This was the world of the supernatural and only the strongest could survive. Still, she locks her gaze on the ceiling, tracing the patterns with her eyes until she must clench them tightly shut, her teeth clamping together as another wave of pain washes through her. "You must have some sort of poison on your fangs, huh?" she says tightly, a ghost of smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "On the dresser behind you, in the top drawer there's a false bottom and there's potions in there. There's an antidote that helps disperse any type of poison, not completely but it will help draw it out. You, uh, have to dig through my undergarments to reach the bottom," she warns, her face flushing slightly at the thought of Tetradore ruffling through some of her more scandalous, lacey materials.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered