ā unexpected guest ā - @fourmarksmageā
It wasnāt common that the siren found herself sneaking through her own home, weapon in hand, but at the unlocked door and drops of blood on the floor Xiomara set her stance low. Bags left in the hall, door cracked so the noise does not alert the intruder. Heart slow and breaths measured. A silent predator in the dark halls.
She had only been gone just over 48 hours, off in Houston for a job. This intrusion must be recent, her neighbours would have alerted her to any break in, any theft or noise from within, as they were instructed to do.
Sweeping the townhouseās bottom floor to find nothing even a hair out of place. The blood trail had continued up the stairs, but what uninvited stranger goes through your house touching nothing and heading straight for the rooms above? Not a burglar, then a killer? Perhaps, the blood trail will lead to a threat? Images of severed horse heads rising to her with a smirk. That would certainly be an amusing but irritating end to her day. Petty promises.
Following the trail closely, finding smudged, dark red fingermarks in the hall and then at last on the door to her room.
Why her bedroom? Horse heads in her bed are beginning to feel a lot more plausible than they rightly should. Who would- Sebastian? Surely not. How could he have gotten in, the locks were changed a week ago and the door had no signs of abuse. He is certainly no lock-pick. Barely good enough with his hands to make an omelette.
A single finger pushing the lacquered wood of her bedroom door, Xio takes a reserved glance inside, leant back enough to dodge any projectiles. Weapon melting from her hand at the sight of her sorceress curled up in bed.
Rage. Fear. Worry. Shock. Who did this? What happened? Where are they? Are you being pursued? You didnāt seek danger without me, did you? Too many questions and none voiced. Xiomara swiftly strides to her raven beauty, dipping the bed as she kneels beside her. Golden fingers brushing through her curls in a gentle attempt at comfort. āDarling?ā Hesitantly cupping a cheek, little finger dipping down to check her pulse. No need to disturb her with medical manhandling until she knows it is required.Ā Please donāt be cold. ALIVE. A heavy exhale. Sheād been holding her breath, prepared for yet more grief. Always prepared.
Ā Ā Ā Ā āIām here, Darling. Can you hear me? How can I help?ā Her free hand finding Yenneferās. A steady hold, fingers laced together. No care for the thickened blood drying on pale green bedsheets, only for their sources.
