Quinlan instantly changed his attitude, admonishing himself. "Damn… What a bad master I am. I got carried away with studying these strange developments when I should've ensured you were okay. I'm sorry, Scar."
He crossed the space in a few steps and knelt beside her. Her breathing was shallow. Her blue, ethereal skin was torn and marked by strain, the cost of serving as the bridge that had let his elements pass cleanly, that had let his soul and body align when it mattered most.
He slid an arm beneath her back and another under her knees, lifting.
Her weight felt truly insignificant in his arms.
Quinlan held her close.
"Thank you for always being so dependable, Scar. I sometimes get the feeling I don't deserve you…" He said, despite her not being in a state to hear his words.
"The boy is talking to an unconscious woman with his willy out for all to see," came a male voice. "Has he snapped? What a shame…"
Quinlan lifted his head.
The pressure in the air had changed.
