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Snippet #2776442

located in North America, a part of Transpire, one of the many universes on RPG.

North America

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: San Character Portrait: Arua Character Portrait: Lyra Alula
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"I must be dreaming, because I don't believe in ghosts."



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Savages | Marina and the Diamonds

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The door handle jiggled, Tymol hid San underneath the table, prepared to fight. Allen entered, helping Lyra inside, the red headed banshee limping. San jumped out from her hiding spot, bolting over and whimpering worriedly. "It's fine," Lyra winced, smiling despite the pain. Allen helped her to the couch. "Where's Nieve and Sopheene?" He asked in alarm, seeing as to how they had not arrived. "Don't worry, they're out helping fight, I've been here, watching San." Allen set Lyra down, the red head groaning. San jumped onto the couch, worried, "It's okay," Lyra smiled, wincing, "I'll be alright." Her hand was covering a wound, sticky with blood. Allen ran to grab a towel to push against it. "Lyra... good?" San struggled, looking at her curiously. Lyra nodded, "Yes, I'm good San, don't worry." She reached out to pat that head of blonde hair.

"San... help!" Her tail wriggled, she wanted to do something. Tymol didn't seem to understand what San had meant though. "Yeah... she breathes fire." Lyra's eyes widened, Allen too, paused. San took the towel, grabbing it in her mouth to bring to Lyra. "San help!" Lyra nodded, smiling amusedly. The door handle jiggled again, San growled, but it was only Sopheene and Nieve. The monster girl jumped off of the couch in relief, running over, whimpering worriedly when she saw all of the blood. Nieve pat her head, San following her to the couch where Lyra was sitting, uncomfortable. "I think it was probably poisoned," Lyra winced as she lifted the towel, the veins around the wound a bulbous blue. If it weren't for the poison, she wouldn't have been bleeding this much.

The cut itself wasn't all that big. "San... help! San want help!" She got a towel, bringing it to Allen. Was he injured? It didn't look like it, but what if he needed a towel? "Good girl," Allen pat her head, taking the towel. He had a few scratches, but was otherwise alright. "I'm gonna make dinner," Tymol opted, having volunteered in the Guild kitchen plenty of times. Allen lifted San up, placing her on one of the squashy armchairs. "Sit here, okay?" San nodded, watching as Nieve treated Lyra, hoping that Lyra would be okay. "Don't worry," Lyra smiled, her skin pale, no doubt from the poison. "I haven't seen any deaths today," she coughed violently, spattering blue on her clothing. That couldn't be good, San was growing antsy on the chair, she wanted to do something too!