Cyrdic had tensed when he heard the word, and it had brought a terrible wariness to him. His breathing had grown shallow, and the Ostlander's fists clenched. Vaguely, he felt a pressure on his body, as if the warmth of everything wrong in the world was happening just down the alleyway on the otherside of the building. He'd felt this before, on the coast of Nordland. He could never forget it, and the insane visions it brought him. 

Perhaps it was his anger that kept him less effected, or perhaps because he had dealt with it before. But other than visions flashing through his mind, those of torture and terrifying change, he felt able to move once he got a grip of himself. He gasped for air, and sweat beaded down his head. The man gripped the hilt of his sword, and instantly he felt more strong and sure of himself. Suddenly, the grip on his sword reached his mind. 

[i]Fjorlhaf[/i]. 

The word had just entered his head. Was that the sword's name? He couldn't ponder it at the moment, seeing Camilla on the ground, continuing to mouth a word, and he saw the blood drip from her lips. Gods, her eyes are glazed over. His companion's seizure brought him back to reality like a Dwarf's punch, and he staggered over to her, lifting up Camilla's head. "Camilla," he breathed, patting her cheek. The blood oozed onto his hand, her lips barely moved, life leaving her from the lack of oxygen. 

"Come on," he groaned, lifting her up. He held her cradled in his arms, nearly falling atop her when he stepped into the alleyway. "Camilla!" he called as loud as he dared. No one was around, but his mind wasn't on that right now. If she was gone, he'd truly be alone in the world. [i]Oh, now you realize it[/i].

His legs gave out, the last bit of his strength used to carry her not a dozen paces away. But he could no longer feel the intensity of the pressure of the warpstone, even without his sword. He breathed easier, and looked down at Camilla, who's eyes had rolled into the back of her head. Her chest didn't rise. 

"Damn," he seethed, cupping her face and pressing his lips onto hers, breathing life into her lungs. "Come on!" He cried, and placed her on the ground, shoving his palm into her lower diaphragm before breathing into her again. "Thrice damn you, Camilla, just breathe," he growled, pressing into her lower chest again. 
[@Penny]