The tears stung his eyes. The beauty seemed lost in the bloodshot rivers that coiled and twisted around the brown iris's looping that small black spot in the center. His pupil was small, nearly lifeless and unsettled. It swam in the brown pool, a muddy bath it clearly did not enjoy sinking into. He had bags settling under those perfect gems, a weakened and battered body lay beside the other.
Eyes widened when he felt her nuzzle against him. It was followed by a warming sensation in his cheeks. He shut his eyes, relaxing against the grass. It was so soft, so gentle, so soothing. No, not the grass at all. Her touch. He found himself craving more of it. He buried his nose into the crown of her head, taking light drags of the smell in her hair. Shampoo lingered there, softened with conditioner. No amount of sweat, blood, or other such things seemed to cling to her. She was untouched, no matter how hard the night had been.
Then, she let a promise fall from her lips and touch his auds. Eyes filled with warm tears and once again he felt them roll down his cheeks. He pulled her closer, his optics still closed to enjoy the touch of her. He felt how warm she was, how smooth her skin felt, how wonderful it was to be lying beside her. The blonde was for a moment, for a brief and completely refreshing moment, she did not make his heart grieve.
However, at Asa's next words, he was snapped back to her. Those golden locks touched his face and her laugh pierced that happiness with a wave of sorrow. The arrow struck, and a wave of betrayal washed over him. Could he really forget about her and move on? It seemed so impossibly hard. He would try for an infinity to bring her back, to let her live again... But he could also try for an eternity to find love once more. Which would he choose?
Pushing the question away, he wiggled himself away from her. He stared down at her wound, wincing for a moment before leaning down to her leg and moving his lips to it. The blood had dried, but he still felt obligated to help her. Giving the blotch of crimson a light kiss, he pressed his nose against the cap of her knee.
Once again, he forced himself away from her, breaking the contact. It took an unseen rope to pull him back to his feet. He stumbled slightly, but regained his composure. Bending down, his hand lightly grasped her arm, hauling her up and wrapping his arm around her thin waist. He draped her limb around his neck, holding her wrist and steadying her against him, she would need some help walking.
"We'll go slow. Do you know the way out?"
He would be able to tell if he'd focus, but right now those keen senses made him want to vomit. He wouldn't risk upchucking on her. He'd be the guide, but a blind guide, only focused on the forest around them and the shadows. One couldn't look for danger and spot home. It was an impossible multi-tasking job that not one person would ever manage to complete. Phayte being no exception...