Robbed of the Asphalt that Cushioned His Face

He was dead. He was going to die out here in the middle of nowhere with ghosts and specters as his only company. 'She's coming!' one of the translucent bodies whispered excitedly. Another pained whine pulled from Valor as he tried to shift his head enough to see. The grasses parted and a woman came towards him. The cape about her shoulders made him instantly think that she was Death come to collect, but the concern in her mint and lavender eyes made him think otherwise. Surely Death would show no concern, right?

"An angel come to take me to the gates of heaven." he muttered in his feverish state. "Or perhaps to hell. The gods know that I haven't lived the best life." And then the angel spoke, her voice delicate and sweet. No, not Death. A goddess sent from heaven. She was beautiful; breathtaking even. There seemed to be a glowing aura about the fae, but that could have been the infection and fever. She deserved an aura, Valor thought, his mind muddled.

As the woman placed herself on his uninjured side, Valor did his best to get to his paws once more. Teeth grit hard until they squeaked against one another, but eventually he was upright. Just standing had taken all of his strength and he had to simply stand there for a moment, panting hard. The brute's husky, glacial tones came in between those harsh breaths. "Lead... the way... my angel." Valor was a man's man and would do his best to walk on his own, but even in his current state of delirium, he wouldn't turn down the press of a lovely woman's body against his own.

"Valor"