- Messages
- 195
- Character Biography
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The pain was immediate, searing, and absolute. Fallon’s senses ignited in revolt against her body. It wasn’t just a wound- it was an invasion. Silver had torn through flesh and bone like molten fire, and every beat of her heart pushed that fire through her veins, igniting nerves, muscles, organs, every fragile part of her that she had ever thought indestructible.
It felt as though her blood itself had turned to acid, boiling from the inside, eating along every artery and vein. Every inhalation drew pain deeper into her lungs, every exhale was a scream trapped in her throat. She arched and writhed, unable to control herself as her body shifted back violently, as if the agony had claimed her body entirely.
Her inherent Garou resilience offered her no reprieve. Steel she had faced a hundred times, blades, arrows, claws, fangs, but none had ever burned like this. Silver was alive, sentient, whispering in the language of destruction through every fiber of her being. The world fractured around her, snow turning to fire, the cold night air biting only at the edges of her awareness.
Her limbs betrayed her, legs buckling beneath her. She rolled in the snow, thrashing, leaving a trail of crimson as her teeth ground against the pain that refused to relent. Every nerve screamed, every heartbeat a hammer blow, every pulse of her poisoned blood a promise of obliteration.
She tasted her own blood, though it tasted of silver, acrid and metallic, and it burned like acid on her tongue. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think beyond the single, consuming truth. This was death, this was fire, this was agony incarnate, and it would not stop until she was nothing but ash.
Victoria. She heard her yelling. There was a flurry of motion around her but her world was spinning.
"Vi... run.." she quietly begged, wanting her wife safe when she could not be there beside her. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as darkness dragged her under.
Caspian’s breath steamed in the cold, his broad chest heaving as he stood over Fallon. The rock he had struck her with tumbled from his hand, rolling across the snow like something shameful. Blood streaked his bronze skin and golden hair, matted against his temples, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth might break. Across his naked skin the wounds he had borne in the fight already knitted themselves shut, slashes knitting to angry red seams, punctures shrinking to nothing. Even the deep gouge on his ribs faded, muscle writhing beneath as it pulled itself back together.
“Get the wounded back to the Caern,” he barked, his voice hoarse with command. Garou obeyed without hesitation, dragging bodies, living and dead, out of the slaughter ground. Then he crouched, great hands sliding beneath Fallon’s limp, shuddering form to lift her against his chest.
But Fallon was slipping. Her body convulsed, but her mind was already being pulled away. The silver fire still burned inside her veins, but the world around her grew quiet, smothered. The forest bled of colour until it was nothing but shades of ash, the towering trees skeletal, the snow dull grey beneath her knees. The battlefield, the wolves, even Victoria, gone.
She was alone. She was in the umbra. The in between..
Her throat tore with a scream, her wife’s name hurled into the endless silence. The sound echoed back at her, hollow, breaking, until her voice failed and she collapsed forward. Hands and knees sank into the snow, sobs wracking her chest as her tears fell into the frost. She pressed her face into the snow, unable to feel its chill, her whole body bowing with grief.
A hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Cold. Ethereal. She froze, her breath catching, before she dared to lift her face.
“Fallon…”
Her voice. Not Victoria's, but another who lived in her memory.
Fallon’s body shuddered with another raw sob, her fingers clawing at the snow to hold on to something. “I’m not ready to die, Livvy,” she whispered.
It felt as though her blood itself had turned to acid, boiling from the inside, eating along every artery and vein. Every inhalation drew pain deeper into her lungs, every exhale was a scream trapped in her throat. She arched and writhed, unable to control herself as her body shifted back violently, as if the agony had claimed her body entirely.
Her inherent Garou resilience offered her no reprieve. Steel she had faced a hundred times, blades, arrows, claws, fangs, but none had ever burned like this. Silver was alive, sentient, whispering in the language of destruction through every fiber of her being. The world fractured around her, snow turning to fire, the cold night air biting only at the edges of her awareness.
Her limbs betrayed her, legs buckling beneath her. She rolled in the snow, thrashing, leaving a trail of crimson as her teeth ground against the pain that refused to relent. Every nerve screamed, every heartbeat a hammer blow, every pulse of her poisoned blood a promise of obliteration.
She tasted her own blood, though it tasted of silver, acrid and metallic, and it burned like acid on her tongue. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think beyond the single, consuming truth. This was death, this was fire, this was agony incarnate, and it would not stop until she was nothing but ash.
Victoria. She heard her yelling. There was a flurry of motion around her but her world was spinning.
"Vi... run.." she quietly begged, wanting her wife safe when she could not be there beside her. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as darkness dragged her under.
Caspian’s breath steamed in the cold, his broad chest heaving as he stood over Fallon. The rock he had struck her with tumbled from his hand, rolling across the snow like something shameful. Blood streaked his bronze skin and golden hair, matted against his temples, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth might break. Across his naked skin the wounds he had borne in the fight already knitted themselves shut, slashes knitting to angry red seams, punctures shrinking to nothing. Even the deep gouge on his ribs faded, muscle writhing beneath as it pulled itself back together.
“Get the wounded back to the Caern,” he barked, his voice hoarse with command. Garou obeyed without hesitation, dragging bodies, living and dead, out of the slaughter ground. Then he crouched, great hands sliding beneath Fallon’s limp, shuddering form to lift her against his chest.
But Fallon was slipping. Her body convulsed, but her mind was already being pulled away. The silver fire still burned inside her veins, but the world around her grew quiet, smothered. The forest bled of colour until it was nothing but shades of ash, the towering trees skeletal, the snow dull grey beneath her knees. The battlefield, the wolves, even Victoria, gone.
She was alone. She was in the umbra. The in between..
Her throat tore with a scream, her wife’s name hurled into the endless silence. The sound echoed back at her, hollow, breaking, until her voice failed and she collapsed forward. Hands and knees sank into the snow, sobs wracking her chest as her tears fell into the frost. She pressed her face into the snow, unable to feel its chill, her whole body bowing with grief.
A hand settled lightly on her shoulder. Cold. Ethereal. She froze, her breath catching, before she dared to lift her face.
“Fallon…”
Her voice. Not Victoria's, but another who lived in her memory.
Fallon’s body shuddered with another raw sob, her fingers clawing at the snow to hold on to something. “I’m not ready to die, Livvy,” she whispered.
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