Vera is the one left standing, breathing raggedly as if she's the one who's ready to drop to the floor. Her eyes stare at Martin for several moments before she processes just what she's done, and then she's moving toward him.
"Shit." Down on her knees, she reaches out to his head and pushes more healing into him, staunching the damage before anything else happens to him. It's only when she's nearly drained herself of her magicka that she stops healing him, reaching forward and somewhat scooping him up. With some care, she's able to lay him down flat on the ground, body relaxed and head turned so he's not resting on his injury. That's just about all she can provide for now.
Standing, she backs away from him and paces, hand going into her belt to remove a talisman lingering there. "I want a word with you," she says, summoning Lucien Lachance to her side. The darkness that opens up has hardly changed and the specter wastes no time in appearing from its chasm. Her eyes are narrowed and she gestures to Martin. "Tell me who that is."
He turns his gaze to the fallen emperor and she swears she almost sees his back stiffen. Martin Septim. Emperor of Tamriel.
Vera doesn't look pleased at all to hear it. "So it's true," she mutters. Dragon blooded, just as she is. "I don't understand," she whispers, for Lucien's ears alone, for the dead tell no tales and keep secrets as close as they can. "Why is he here? Why now?"
But her specter does not answer her. He takes a few steps towards Martin and it isn't until he reaches for the ethereal dagger that she realizes what he's doing. "Lucien, no." She gets in between them. "Stand down."
He is the Emperor, Listener. Too long I've waited... It would be a fitting tribute to Lord Sithis.
"No," she snaps, agitated. "Not him. Not now. We've done this before." And it hasn't brought her any peace. For a moment, the spectral assassin seems to listen to her. He hesitates and she is nearly certain he'll back down. But then he lunges, trying to skirt around her, and her blade is out before she even has the thought of drawing it. It slides easily into his stomach, an extension of her hand, and she watches with some vestige of regret as he crumbles into dust and returns to the Void.
With a sigh, shoulders finally dropping, Vera turns back to look at Martin's prone form on the ground. And then she pulls out her tablet to call for assistance from the Initiative.
no subject
"Shit." Down on her knees, she reaches out to his head and pushes more healing into him, staunching the damage before anything else happens to him. It's only when she's nearly drained herself of her magicka that she stops healing him, reaching forward and somewhat scooping him up. With some care, she's able to lay him down flat on the ground, body relaxed and head turned so he's not resting on his injury. That's just about all she can provide for now.
Standing, she backs away from him and paces, hand going into her belt to remove a talisman lingering there. "I want a word with you," she says, summoning Lucien Lachance to her side. The darkness that opens up has hardly changed and the specter wastes no time in appearing from its chasm. Her eyes are narrowed and she gestures to Martin. "Tell me who that is."
He turns his gaze to the fallen emperor and she swears she almost sees his back stiffen. Martin Septim. Emperor of Tamriel.
Vera doesn't look pleased at all to hear it. "So it's true," she mutters. Dragon blooded, just as she is. "I don't understand," she whispers, for Lucien's ears alone, for the dead tell no tales and keep secrets as close as they can. "Why is he here? Why now?"
But her specter does not answer her. He takes a few steps towards Martin and it isn't until he reaches for the ethereal dagger that she realizes what he's doing. "Lucien, no." She gets in between them. "Stand down."
He is the Emperor, Listener. Too long I've waited... It would be a fitting tribute to Lord Sithis.
"No," she snaps, agitated. "Not him. Not now. We've done this before." And it hasn't brought her any peace. For a moment, the spectral assassin seems to listen to her. He hesitates and she is nearly certain he'll back down. But then he lunges, trying to skirt around her, and her blade is out before she even has the thought of drawing it. It slides easily into his stomach, an extension of her hand, and she watches with some vestige of regret as he crumbles into dust and returns to the Void.
With a sigh, shoulders finally dropping, Vera turns back to look at Martin's prone form on the ground. And then she pulls out her tablet to call for assistance from the Initiative.