damsel in distressin’

Red’s fury is near mythical to witness, an avenging angel come to rain vengeance upon his enemies. upon her enemies. El watches the carnage in silence, eyes taking on a distant, almost glazed quality as the coyote is dispatched. it’s gruesome and bloody, a violence so obscene she should be covering her eyes. instead, El drinks it in like a woman starved. something expands in her chest, a feeling too big to hold. it’s only once the coyote has finally fallen still that she realises she’s trembling from head to toe. El takes a shuffling step forward, desperate for him, to touch him and soothe and feel him beneath her touch, alive and so fucking vibrant it hurts. so vibrant he makes blood like near-grey in comparison. a hysterical sound pulls from her throat, something delighted and agonised in equal measure. when the helmet slips from his face, El goes to him without a moment’s hesitation, blinking the blood from her eyes and lapping at the drops that cling to her bottom lip. her head is spinning, but she isn’t sure if it’s from her injury or simply a side effect of Red’s mere presence.

“you saved me,” she rasps, rather unnecessarily. but she needs him to hear it, needs to impress upon him her gratitude. no, gratitude is too small a word. El buries her face in his chest, tears falling as she flings her arms around his neck. hold me, hold me. she doesn’t care that he’s bloody, or capable of abhorrent violence. nothing about him repels her, disgusts her. nothing ever could. he’s carved himself into her heart with the serrated bone-edge of her own ribcage. El laughs at his question, the sound tear-filled and shaking with relief. “yes, yes, i’m okay. i’m fine. i’m fine because you saved me, Red.”

"Elara Klein"