#it makes an exelent charecter moment

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

one woman's blessing is another woman's curse

traversing the ruins of the city is dangerous- a rare moment of kindness from Cameilla could throw the whole group into jeopardy if Mura doesn't handle the aftermath right.

featuring: the complicated dynamics of having to please Seelah and Weduag at the same time, Mura doing some manipulationTM while trying to not succumb to her rage and the star of the fic: the easily forgotten fact that cure wounds can damage dhampirs[whoops]

the slow crawl through Kenabres was as painful as it was dull, brief moments of violence scattered across damaged streets.

damp soaked through the cloth on her legs, some even seeping through her corset. her awareness was hyper-focused on everything around her, all the side alleys and crevasses, and the itching feeling of blood-wet cloth was an unfortunate byproduct.

no matter how much of the blood that soaked into her skin was her own, she continued on. one more bloody step in front of the other, one more bloody corpse to tread over, the rest of the group dogging at her heels.

her eyes had been growing wider, and her moments less controlled, her teeth bared in a snarl more. she had given her body over to instinct a few blocks ago, bored out of her mind at the rote violence.

the gaps underfoot started to curve, and she tore her eyes away from the unaware enemy ahead to compare the center to the revelry before the demon kings decent. so much had changed in so little time.

a nod of her head was all Seelah needed to start advancing, Wenduags crossbow hitting the first creature unaware, causing the group to turn.

it was over swiftly, but Mura was no fool, she had fumbled a hit and been left open to counterattack, it hadn't been much, but given the bloody trail she had been leaving, it had tipped her over into a level of pain that would not be good to stay put, not with danger still lurking around every corner.

the clink of a sword into a sheath, and the half elf extended her hand brimming with healing light towards Seelah, the paladin being low on them herself.

a shake of her head and Mura looked around the square, the knife throwing stand she had excelled in. the bloody stain from the dragons demise, a glint, nay a glow coming from the rubble nearby? eyes narrowing once again, she made to walk towards it.

movement behind her, a bright burn in the back of her eyes, her hair standing on end, all in a split second, but it didn't help her as she screamed into the broken night, something tearing through her veins, a foreign magic crawling through her, taunting her as it scorched her from the inside out.

Hands that had become fists were now splayed with aggression, her nails looking more like talons in the dim firelight, a pink glow washing the horrified face of the damn half elf, the shock in her eyes the only thing that broke through the pain enough for her strike to be redirected to her shoulder, gripping it so tight she could feel the warm blood running from her talons, and the few drops that failed to make it escaping through the skin.

fire burned through her, warming her like a loving embrace, promising to make the damn fool suffer, how dare she.

fool. that's all the damn woman was, a fuking fool.

that thought didn't help her rage.

a soft plea cut through the fire, the damn paladin.

the fired dimmed, showing the faces of her companions.

Seelahs soft plea for mercy and forgiveness, Wenduags sneers and talks of rightful punishment, she could hear them in her head already, even as the words they spoke were as close to her understanding as the flakes of ash in the wind were to burying her.

she focused on the woman in her grip, and the considerable amount of money her father was going to pay her for a job later, focused on how she had spent years hiding and obscuring her nature, how she wasn't to know.

raged pooled in her teeth, and she pulled it into her mind and spine, forging the molten metal into steel, drawing herself taller, preparing her voice to be gentle as steel, understanding laced with disappointment.

'that was foolish of you' a well practiced disappointed sigh, 'you could have been gravely hurt if i had any less control' push the hurt onto her, distract from how close Mura had been to writhing on the ground like a mewling babe.

'instinct serves you well in battle, but healing is something that should not be done carelessly' make it a teaching moment, praise her, but don't let her forget her failure.

notice Seelahs fear fade into hope. hope that will be squashed sooner or later- but not today.

pray that the half elves shock overrides her arrogant personality.

'i will forgive you this once, Cameilla. you are an excellent fighter, and id hate to lose that' let honestly show through, let her be aware that the only reason she was spared was because she was deemed more useful alive.

make her voice go deeper, more dangerous, 'i hope you can prove that forgiving you is the right thing to so' tell her that forgiveness musts be earned, constantly. see Wenduag nod despite her distaste at the mercy her mistress has shown.

slowly lift the pressure of her grip, harden her glare into the other woman's eyes even more, before turning and walking away through the fire, between the two witness, both sated in their own way.

don't show fear at turning her back on them, don't show doubt. dismiss them from her mind, like they could ever effect her, ever be a threat to her, like Cameilla only committed a petty social slight.

mentally schedule a separate talk with Wenduag, to reprimand her for showing dissatisfaction with her mistresses choices. note to not explain why you made those choices. that woman needs careful handling, but she is useful- and if her promises of a mongrel army come true, well it would be worth the headache that comes from dealing with her.

while examining the corpses with a detached air, pull a scroll of inflict harm out of your boot and relish the healing that seeps through your bones, the glorious pain that precedes it, washing away the scorching glow and its after effects.

debate the merit of tearing into the still warm corpse.

hope that her delicate balancing act between punishment and forgiveness, rage and kindness hadn't ended with disaster, watch the wobbling slowly subside in the movements and sounds of the rest of the group until she could take the silence and lack of steel or bolts in her body as proof it worked out, that the bar was still.

don't let out a sigh of relief.

spine strait, walk with confidence.

motion for them to continue on, towards the temple.