The Vauxian Touch

Due to their feral escalation, Voah and Shalia’s attention remained solely fixed on each other’s ferocity. It was an awful sight to see so much pain and discomfort being discharged from one woman to the next, filling him with compassion for the obvious struggles both must have endured in the past to end up here. This gave Gonyaul the chance to continue crawling pathetically towards them. When he noticed their fight take them further away he frowned because of the additional distance he had to go. As they rolled closer, his frowned faded, erased by a small jolt of gratitude for being nearer.

The trained part of his brain was indeed paying attention to both of their actions as if diagramming their fighting. It was a habit, in case he had to get involved in the physical exchange. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that which fueled his primary focus of just getting there. As his subconscious warned a ruinous climax was ramping up, he used the reserves of his adrenaline and fought through his fatigue and pain to reach them.

Gonyaul reached out his uninjured dominant left hand and grabbed Shalia’s right leg just above the ankle; she was the closest to him. The grip was firm and unyielding, but he wasn’t trying to displace tendon or muscle from bone, nor was he trying to destabilize her standing frame. Instead, he was trying to use her leg as a crutch to help him get from his crawling position to at least a crouching one.

This gave him the appearance of, one handedly, climbing up her right leg. It must have been a fearfully shocking sight with his current injured and demonic appearance; no fault of his own.

He looked up at Shalia, his large dark doe eyes, framed by their uniquely angled eye lids, locked with her as she swiftly looked down towards the distraction. The reflection of fire in his eyes had disappeared because his back was now to the burning building, leaving only the beautiful reflection of the starry night sky sprinkled in them.

Gonyaul’s expression was soft and gentle from the bandage up; below the blood soaked wrap about his lower face it was indeterminable. He spoke louder than usual knowing that his mouth was covered, because he wanted to be sure they both heard him above the clamor of chaos.

“Enough” he said first in Vauxian and then repeated immediately in Helian realizing his failure to translate. His accent was a novelty to the witch. His tone had no anger or disappointment laced with it. Gonyaul was probably the least of all present; however, he spoke to her as if he commanded an authority beyond even the gods and goddesses. As if his arrival on the scene of their mortal combat was the simple conclusion and their time to rage had now come to an end.

His hand had climbed higher up her leg and he was crouching at Shalia’s feet; it was obvious his balance was compromised by the way he used her leg for assistance. He continued to protect his right hand and arm close to his body. Blood was dripping all over him like a wasp nest with waterfalls.

Despite only saying the one word, twice, his entire demeanor added the notion. ~please, there has been too much pain, bloodshed and damage. It needs to stop, and it stops first with us.~ but there was also a spark of hope ~there is a better way than this.~

He glanced at Voah, his heart filled with grief at her injured self. Yet his eyes adored her and he sent her the same unspoken message he just gave Shalia. He winked at her. It was a failed wink, especially since a wave of vertigo washed over him and his eyes almost rolled backwards, still a work in progress. He then looked back to Shalia, she was moving.