@natashathepure

The evening had been... quite something. Snow had lost himself twice, physical with Calley, and spiritual beside Gwen in the blizzard. At risk to abandon flesh altogether. Once Royce was collected by the paramedics Snow was able to reunite with it’s preferred vessel and wander out of the soaked and damaged club right behind other more shaken guests. No clue where John had gone, but with an idea. The human would be safe...

All of this mess, and yet the night wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

Passing by officials and security, Snow thought he would simply go home to cool off and head to the hospital later for Gwen, but someone stood inside of the disturbed crowd. Like an alabaster stone dividing a moving stream of fish. Natasha. She stuck out like a sore thumb and looked very much sore herself. Frazzled in ways Snow had never before witnessed. As if the light had been snuffed out altogether. She was in a dress without a coat, not even a thin police blanket offered to her, and soaking wet. With fresh sprinkler water, and, yes, salty tears. No doubt feeling pain for all others but herself.

Tense as the reaper still felt, he abandoned logic, reason, and walked straight toward her. Without saying a word, Snow cupped her sweet face and drew her against his warmer form in a protective manner, as if blocking the witch with his large physical body could defend her from all other forces. Transport them both away from this nasty state of events. If not for a moment. Looking to Natasha now, Snow swiped the pad of his thumb over her skin and his eyes didn’t leave the girl for anything. It helped quell the adrenaline still coursing through his mortal veins; to focus on such tattered beauty.

“Sunshine...”