---

"Truly? A dragon?" She hums, thoughtful in the way her finger taps along the curve of her girlish cheek. She looks to her right, expectant, though to the naked eye there is naught there but air. However, to the faded blush of her pale gaze, there is a woman, elderly, freshly fixed hair. Her garments speak of her low social status, perhaps a farmer in life. "Yes, ma'am. It came from nowhere." The spirit would lament, her appearance coming after her death at the fiend's hand. She claimed she had been searching, looking everywhere for help. Woefully, no one else had laid eyes upon her save for Persephone, death's self-proclaimed bride.

"Well, Genevieve, I don't know how much I can do on my own, but I'll try!" She promised, noting the nervousness of the ghost, as if she could still suffer the draconian's wrath in this form. "She can no longer harm you. You are safe now." She would offer the comforting coo, footfalls carrying them down the path towards the ruins of the woman's home - or at least that's what she had said. "Miss 'sephone, what's that?" The worried intonation of the little boy to her left - the woman's son - piqued up and she would look to where he gestured.

Lying in the field amid the snow and slurried mud was a still body. The scent of blood was unmistakable, though she was certainly not surprised by the detail. In fact, she was surprised there wasn't more. "Oh my, what indeed?" Her words came as she leaned over the figure, rocking back and forth on her heels as she tried to peer past the cover of the mask that shielded features from her view. Hands unleashed from behind her back as she crouched nearby. She could hear his pulse, faint, but present. How very close her was to that ultimate freedom, a feat she almost envied. Oh to be mortal, to taste the cold release from death's cup once more.

"Hello, dear." She spoke, eyes roving the horrid damage done to the youth's twisted frame. She gave a pause, not truthfully expecting him to respond to her, in her silence, she would place her hand tenderly upon his chest. She could feel the resonance of his heart, of the blood that flowed through it. "You're cold, but I suppose death doesn't want you yet." The edges of her lips turned upwards as she hummed quietly to the two of them, curious stare leashed to the machinations of his face cover. Her magic began its course, winding its way from her possession and into the organ where it would disperse throughout his veins. All in tempo to the hymn she shared with him.

---

She'd have thought him dead, should she just be a mortal passerby. Perhaps that is why he had been left to the elements and earth itself to reclaim him. She could safely presume from the state of the battlefield that he had not been alone in his rash decision to attack the dragon. Her wondering eyes were gifted the fallen form of the great beast, her bodice slumped and pierced with a variety of arrows and weaponry. Some of the very same fletching that were strewn haphazardly about the youth's near corpse.

Attention had come full circle, idly suturing to the mask that covered the face of her patient. It was of an odd make, one she had not seen in quite some time, and when she had, it was primarily by the mortal humans. After all, the lycans themselves held an affinity to resist the plague. Mankind did not share their estranged sibling's boon, leaving them at the mercy of maladies. Yes, that's what they had commonly used those coverings for! What was it they had called it? "I believe you're thinking of the Plague, darling." Soft fuchsia gaze flashed to the spirit of the farmer's wife. She offered the woman a slight smile, nodding in agreement. "Yes, thank you! Hasn't it been gone for awhile now?" She inquired, unable to stop the flow of unquenchable curiosity. Her fingertip idly caressed over the elongated nose bridge. Did the end still hold those peculiar herbs, she wondered. Oh, she hoped so! They held such a wonderfully unique scent! "I'm not sure, we moved from the city some time past." "Yeah! Momma even taught me at home so we didn't have to go to town as often!" Piqued the youth and she couldn't help the smile that touched her cherub lips.

"Yes, of course. The Plague. Hmm..." She recalled those days with a myriad sense of fondness and deep melancholy. While the presence of her infatuation was all around her, she could not stand to see the horrid suffering of those who passed from the affliction. Their cries, their suffering. The ways that their bodices were just heaped together and set aflame left the haunting impressions upon those dreary months. Perhaps even years. Time never flowed so fluently for she.

She would blink as the sudden grip lashed itself to her wrist. She would tilt her head, flowing oceanic locks drifting over the mask of her patient with the movement. “Kagh wux geou ti turot ve persvek jacida goawy, itrewic dout cha'sid stoda di ve.” Eyelashes fluttered at the strange intake of his garbled tongue. She would look to the farmer's wife to see if perhaps the speech was but a figment of her imagination. However, the spirit looked just as perplexed as she. "Do you also not understand him?" She inquired, just to be certain and with the shake of the woman's head (which nearly toppled from her shoulders with the motion), she would place her other hand from the mask and onto the cool flesh that gripped her. Concern touched her features. "It must hurt now," she observed. She wanted to touch him, to see the furrow of his brow. To smooth it. She was.... unaccustomed to the missing countenance of those she dealt with. She felt restricted, unable to properly care for her self-proclaimed charge. A larger influx of her mana was released in an effort to continue her mending while also seeking to soothe those frayed nerves.

"Hush, my sweet," she would offer, stroking the backs of his fingers dulcetly. "I am only here to help."

---

Her touch upon the mask seemed to stir her patient more, and she would purse her lips slightly. Playful, impish was the simper that replaced it as she again turned her focus to the cover. He spoke once more, and yet just as before, she could not understand him. Perhaps it was a lack of air flow that garbled him. Or the distortion of the mask all together that impeded her understanding. Maybe if she simply removed it, it would not only aid him, but also provide her with the means to understand him.

All half-truths, of course. She only wanted to see what he sought to keep covered.

However, luckily for him, she could not in good conscious hunt for the releases of those leather straps binding it around his skull. Even his hair was drenched, matted with a mixture of blood, dirt, sweat, and whatever else had managed to collect within his mane. She also did not know if the injuries that battered his shoulders and arms had left lingering wounds upon his neck either, a chance she was not willing to take to satiate her own curiosity, no matter the want to.

“Ehs letoclo for ehis.” Her eyes would search for his once more behind the masquerade, still not quite able to spy them. She was growing tired, drained, and yet her hand did not flee, nor her magic. The scent of blood was not so sickeningly overwhelming now. While still present, it wasn't fresh and pulsing from his body anymore. Her humming was slowing, becoming more weary. “Why help? What you want?” She piqued up. Finally! Something she could understand! Despite the words being heavily laced by foreign weight, she leaned further over him, switching hands. Without thought, her tongue would trace over the crimson stain, drawing in the ravenous plight of what lingered from his wounds. "You could call it selfish." She tilted her head, her stare looking beyond him, beyond their current scene. She didn't want another ghost to haunt her, a point made as she looked to the woman and child currently in her company. Many who were lost before making whatever semblance of peace they had latched onto those in the mortal realm who could behold them.

She could only ignore them for so long before an accident was made and she was forced to acknowledge them. After all, how long had the one bitter old man followed her? Longer than she'd have liked, that was certain! Perhaps it wouldn't have been soon, but eventually, their paths would have crossed. They would have faced each other and he would be a mess ripe with decay. She wanted to fill her life with beauty. She wanted to know where to meet her lover death instead of missing them. "I want you to die peacefully. Not like this." To others, it would make no sense, no difference, but she was accustomed to being the odd one out. “Si shilta ti xikin wux.” She shook her head, her expression sad. "I cannot understand you." She hoped he would know what she said, as it was now clear and undeniable that the mask blocked their communication.

She would have to find another excuse.

---

She had allowed her eyes to slip closed, beginning to give in to the plagues of tiredness that would only mount up upon her psyche. She would fall to slumber soon, something that haunted the edges of her mind already, robbing her of lucidity in the gentle embrace of exhaustion. Her magic would be spent and she would rest in order to regain it. It was somewhat familiar to the way she had found her current charge, though this one was not plagued by a haunting malady beneath the skin that simple remedy and magic could not easily pull from him. No, she could sense nothing so sinister upon his person. Only the blood spilled seemed to harbor a hand in his own degrade. One she would regretfully have to take at least one more attempt to fully heal.

Perhaps she truly had dozed off in whole as she was startled briefly as the young man began to stir, her fingertips easily dislodged with his motion as her fuscia stare would snap open widely, a disgruntled noise of soft chiding escaping her on a sigh as that still savaged limb would break the tender hold of mended skin. While it was in better shape than the charred extremity of its twin, it was still in no condition to try and lift his weight, even the small bit that it did before he would pitifully collapse again. She frowned at him, her hands planting along her hips as her lips pursed together. "No more of that. Your wounds will reopen." She gently scolded, a brief effort to aid and ease his awkward positioning before she was distracted by the soft tenor of his vocals once more in that unknown tongue.

She wished she spoke it, or that the watchful eyes of the dead would offer assistance rendered rather than simply being one in the stands to watch to unfurling dramatic at a life at its end. Her peripherals would tear from the dame and return back to her current patient as his fingers gently wove over his crown, further smearing the ichor upon his skin and the pale feathering of his hair. She would move her glissading touch gingerly forward, keen to ensure he had time to resist should he wish it. If he did not dismiss her, she would allow her palm to tenderly rest against his forehead, over the thick knots of red thread that stemmed from his anguish. This was the most dramatic of her empathy skills - the trails of perilous carmine that bunched and wove around the sensations of agony and pain. Choking out the life within.

“Why you care?" he bit again, vocals laden with distrust, though she would only offer a sleepy smile in return as he followed quickly with more of that foreign dialect. "Kii tir wux doege svanoa si nelithik?” Her soft humming would ebb slightly, her hand recoiling slowly as her fingers curled in on one another like withering flower petals. "Because I died once." She breathed, fighting the plague of a yawn. Her magic was all but wholly spent, but she hoped to soothe the frayed yarn that bound him at least slightly. Enough to comfort him until she could care for him once more. "Because I don't want anyone to die as I did. Because when you meet death, they wish you to be at peace. It makes them sad if you are frightened or in pain." The swell of reprieve was quickly over taking her as her lithe frame would settle upon the ground, lying on her side. She feared not any bad reaction from the youth - his injuries still far too prominent, and she would not meet her love with anything less than anticipation. "The reaper is just as precious as the one who gives life, and yet no one loves him like they do their gods and other creators. Don't you think it's unfair?"