[center][h3][i][color=c2a5fd]Aymiria Cassiel[/color][/i][/h3]
[color=c2a5fd][sub]Bride of Zakroti Unalim [@darkwolf687][/sub][/color][/center]
	Through hazy, barely focusing eyes, Miry took in the scene before her, not exactly processing or even comprehending what it was that she saw. Sweat dripped down her face, her outstretched hands shaking with the effort of trying to hold the air and steam packed in.

	She was so focused on holding them together, she did not notice the massive, hulking figure approaching the door, nor did she notice the panicked, horrified squeak that came from behind her. [color=c2a5fd]“Shh, Aery, not now…”[/color] she mumbled.

	She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she definitely was not expecting the drawn out, agonized scream that came from behind her, nor the loud crash – and then a horrifying, terrifying moment where a sharp impact against her back sent her hurtling forward… and right into the steam bubbles that she’d been holding together. And she was so disoriented that she completely let go, the steam hurtling outwards and blasting her backwards again, searing pain shooting through her body before the wind was knocked out of her as she hit the floor hard.

	She didn’t know how long she lay there, gasping, dazed, ears ringing and whole body seemingly on fire. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds but it felt like an eternity before she was able to pull herself to her hands and knees and attempt to determine what in all the gods’ names had just happened. As she surveyed the carnage around her she couldn’t help but dimly wonder if it was such a good idea after all. There was so much blood… and…

	A strangled cry tore its way out of Miry’s throat as she half crawled across the floor, hands scrabbling at her sister’s dress, scrabbling for her hand, her wrist, then her throat, searching for a pulse or a breath or anything, but there was… there was blood everywhere and a knife and… the knife was under Kasari’s hand—

	No. No, no no no. No. She couldn’t have—she…she wouldn’t… And she was… there was a pool of blood all around her and her throat was slit from ear to ear and… Miry choked, clutching at the bodies, a thin keening cry being pulled from her. Whatever pain she’d been feeling was gone now, replaced by pure, horrible emptiness.

	A crash from the door and a looming shadow made her whirl, half slipping in the blood and nearly falling across the corpses. She dimly, dimly saw the chaos in the hall, more blood and gleaming weapons, and with a pitiful, cracking whimper she scrabbled to her feet and stumbled forward, breaking into a run. One of the guards tried to throw up an arm to stop her but she dove under his outstretched arm, flinging herself around the corner and down the hall, hurtling down it half blindly with her only thought being to get away from the carnage.

	She didn’t know how far she’d run, how many doors she’d pushed through, but at last she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could barely see, and so she half-ran, half-fell into a linen closet, yanking the door shut behind her and burrowing into the sheets, rolling her body up in them tightly as though trying to disappear. Vicious sobs tore their way out of her body, her frail frame shaking as she gasped for breath. [i]My fault.[/i] the words repeated through her head infinitely. [i]my fault my fault my fault my fault.[/i]

	After some time her sobs quieted, as did her thoughts. Instead she was left with that terrifying numbness. Weakly she coughed, attempting to sit up and disentangle herself from the blankets, and was greeted by the return of the searing agony all through the left side of her body. Gingerly, biting back a scream of pain, she tried to pull the sheets away from her, wincing as they stuck to her raw flesh—wait… raw flesh?

	In horror she looked down, not exactly comprehending what she was seeing. As she’d lost control of the explosion the rush of superheated air and steam had flung her back and seared her body. Much of her chest, some of her back, her arms, parts of her thighs and hips, and- at least judging by the pain- the right side of her face, the skin blistered and burned and in some places gone entirely. Also, she noted, though this was only a secondary thought – her one change of clothes must have been completely destroyed in the blast, as she was swaddled in nothing but sheets. 

	With another thin cry she rolled herself back up in the sheets, careful to cover every bit of herself that was burned. She curled over on herself again, wincing as the now-throbbing burns seemingly lit on fire again upon being pressed, but there was hardly a comfortable position to rest herself in. At last she found one that was, if not comfortable, at least somewhat less painful, and so she went limp, shaking again, though this time it was from fear, disgust, a sudden chill, and gods only knew what else.

	Dimly she forced her brain to try to work again. She needed a plan. A plan would keep her alive. Water- she needed water. But after the ordeal of trying to hold the steam together, there was no way in hell she had enough energy left to draw any to her. She’d have to ask Zakroti or one of his guards.

	Which led to her next problem: Lord Zakroti. Or, more specifically, his grandfather. Before anything had happened, Zakroti had said his grandfather was awake… which would mean said grandfather would likely respond to the chaos and see two dead brides and a missing in action third... which could not end well for poor Zakroti. Internally she vowed that neither of the lords, nor any of their men, could be allowed to see her injuries. That would be a lovely realization – two dead brides and a hopelessly damaged third. One that Zakroti would doubtless be punished for. She shifted, rolling the sheets tighter around herself, draping one edge close over the burned side of her face. As long as no one moved the sheet and she could mask her pain, no one would know.

	She scrambled for another bit of thought – any other bit, but her brain steadfastly refused to cooperate. Before she could force herself to think, her vision went dark and she was dragged into semiconsciousness. And while she had been able to shut up the vicious words in those few minutes she’d been awake, in her slumber she was not so lucky as to escape them.