In the daytime this whole situation would have been suicidal Emmaline realized, rather belatedly. Darkness and confusion was the only ally they had. Well not quite the only ally. The insidious whisper in the back of her mind rumbled sub audibly like a distant crowd. Emmaline began to cry. Great racking sobs shook her chest and large tears welled up in her blue eyes. The bandit glanced at her for a moment and she flung herself into his arms still sobbing. Before her would be captor could react she gripped his face and pulled it down to her own pressing her lips to his. The scent of sweat and blood made her queasy but now was no time to pause and vomit. As their lips met she spoke a Word. Power coursed out of her body and into the confused bandit. A strange taste, like violets filled the back of her throat and she felt the hairs on the back of her next rise. She tore her lips away from her would be captor.

"Protect me!" she half squeaked and then turned and vomited into the mud. In the back of her mind The Whisperer was cackling with glee. Blood reddened her lips and she could taste its coppery flavor even over her own bile. She could only hope that the spell and whatever her dubious allies could accomplish would be enough to keep her alive, at least for the next few moments.

[i]Very good...[/i] the Whisperer hissed in her ear.

"Shut up," Emmaline muttered, trying to push herself to her feet.


[hider=Rolls]
Perception - 4
Spell - 7
[/hider]