#as flattering as that is. She's definitely built different though. As is Gale. They deserve each other whether they believe it or not.

[thcdoomed]

From one spectacular high to the deepest low she can go, the fury and frenzy of minutes ago leaves her a mess now. Bloodied and battered and tears threatening to streak her face even further. That they even saw the first cracks in the facade the night she changed was bad enough, that they see the full fractures now... fractures like she feels now. That same familiar pang, of pushing through barriers and seeing the depths of another's mind. Her hand reaches up and grips her head, but she can't stop the assault of the things she's seen, the horrors of her past, and the terror of the present. And she can't hide how she sees herself now, another monster that Demasc has made. Teeth grit, blood still staining the crevices between them.

The scenes of Winter Dale's sundering, fire and blood and screams all mix into one horrific vision that she's reliving, that she's relived many nights when the Dream Guardian wasn't invading her mind. All those horrors ripped from her and put on horrific display.

And just as quickly the connection is severed, and though her condition has stolen even her breath, she gasps deeply, red eyes shooting wide open and those tears finally spilling over. Gale knows, just as Karlach learned that night, the horrors she endured first-hand. She's not the fearless leader she's led them to believe, she's terrified. "If I indulge it, I become what I so hate." Even then, though, the hand at her side feels soothing, the pain from the wound growing less intense with every passing second. If only such a cure exists for her heart. What does she deserve his patience for when she had nearly tried to kill him moments before? Slowly, she falls to her knees, legs giving way under the emotional strain of trying to hold herself together for the others when her world is crumbling around her. Her eyes betray her in every way, the fear and heartache wears plain as day in their shimmer as she finally looks at him again. Damned Gale, always with such perfectly chosen words, telling her what she should be hearing even if she doesn't feel she deserves it. "I don't know what I am anymore..."

Red eyes scan the group behind him, trying to read their expressions through the tears and strain, but they are as quiet as a funeral. Blurred expressions and solemn stances and little more. The rosy fruity aroma suddenly drowns out the blood and brings her attention back to the kindly wizard. Every time she wishes to interject his words halt her. She had shown him the kindness he deserved, and his wounds hadn't gone unnoticed when she patched him up, like her, he suffered in silence, keeping his pains to himself. They are alike in that regard. "C-careful wizard, you'll invoke the gods with that talk." It almost got a laugh out of her, but a cautious smile comes forth instead. "I'm just a simple hunter, as I've always said." One bloodied hand reaches out to hold to his robe, the other resting over his hand over her wound. "Help me up, friend... I grow tired of this place." His vow to remind her makes the cautious smile a little less reserved. Hell is inside her tonight, it may be for some time, but she doesn't doubt the friendships she's made since this journey started.

It pains him to see this. She's losing herself. She's sinking into shadows and she can't well breathe. Gale watches her flounder, those fringes of terror written plain and stark. Her heart crashes like tempest, pulsing through those tendrils of their ill-gotten worms, and it terrifies and frightens as it spills into his senses... Her heart-pounding terror now become his own. She believes herself a danger. He can taste the sharp of blood. And she, a hunter, knows best her creatures, and by arrows and steel and the run of a blade, it's solely death and ruin that will stem their thirsts...

He hears the sundering of windpipes.

And he sees her friends. "Ah--"

And he smells him, his rotting, and hears his heart.

Everything! Everything is blisteringly magnified. It's like the world, a pale swath of grey, takes on colors and sounds he's seldom once known. Gale severs the connection, shutting his eyes tightly to the nauseating feedback. Yet, to the heart of the matter, he'd felt a familiar grief--a horror that, too, had twisted his dreams... They're both liabilities. (His orb gives a laugh.) "We all have a hunger, and yet, few would understand the feeling of willfully ignoring it," he reminds, gaze so blindingly patient. His touch is soothing, its usual warmth like an evening in the sunshine or a nap beside a hearth. "I don't need to tell you what you've done, but I would be remiss were I to allow you to think yourself what you are very clearly not. You have compassion. I had felt your very heart echo. Don't make the mistake of believing you're no different from them. I have seen you, and nothing's further from the truth." Relax. Breathe. He offers himself, his own life, and his own flesh and blood transfers her way, thatching her wound through clever spell. The group behind them is silent, the smell of massacre and blood swimming with the earthiness of forest. Yet, Gale aims to narrow her attention, and canting his head, he brings the fragrance of persimmons. His palm, his hand, still cradles her. "You have fought to have me by your side when you'd have every reason to cast me away. Most would struggle to show me the kindness you've consistently afforded me. Speak nothing of monsters, Dronia. You've above even mortals--and I believe I'd know about that." Smile. Oh, please do, hunter. "If ever you forget yourself, know that I'm there to remind you. You will not bury anymore friends today. Come. I think we've ought to get ourselves cleaned up."