My God, My Tourniquet!

His approving hum set her nerves at ease, reassuring and comforting her better than words would have been able to. She kept her head tilted and her eye closed so that he might finish cleaning it faster, though she never once flinched away from the searing, stinging pain that lanced up into her cranium with each stroke of his tongue.

She caught his soft musings as she swayed her face in the water, further cleansing it and soothing her aches for the moment. No doubt the pain would return, but she would bear it. Dea couldn't abide anyone speaking ill of Archon, or the Abraxas by extension. When Archon spoke next she widened her gaze, wondering just what he meant by his whispered declaration. Chills spread over her frame and her heart quickened, though she only showed a smile as she looked at him. Lifting her head from the water, Dea gave a soft, approving hum of her own before making her reply.

"My place is by your side, I will go where you go. This new God pulls me to you, I believe, and the Band of Fallen Angels." Her smile grew, though a slight wince escaped as her wound stung once again. Lowering her head once more, she rinsed the garish mark once again and let out a soft and thoughtful hum, "Who else would be part of the band?" She wondered aloud to Archon, curiosity getting the better of her and desperately needing a distraction from the burn in her eyes and face.