PERIHELLIION.

✦ ✧ It’s been getting harder to breathe for some time, now. The air is hot, dry. The ground is hardly what could be called level beneath her feet, and the unevenness of her gait hardly helps speed up their progress.

    She knows she’s leaving a trail, as much as she’d tried to prevent it. The bandages have soaked through, and gleaming red droplets darken the dirt behind them at seemingly random intervals.

    But it can’t be helped. No time to stop, to clean up the trail. No time to administer anything resembling proper aid. Even when it begins to feel like the electric, shooting pains traveling up her thigh and her spine with every step are the only things keeping her moving forward.

    It seems she’s moving on autopilot, her body carrying itself ever onward as if tethered to that of the Vulcan blazing their trail before her. She stumbles, reaches out to catch herself on his shoulders, and continues moving.

    That is, until one arm thrown out in precise haste pulls her up short and she nearly crashes into him. And as lacking in wherewithal as she is, no protest forms on her lips. Her eyes only bore into him, trusting him to keep watch for the both of them.

        ❛ Of course you can. ❜  Did it even need to be said? Her voice sounds distant, even to her own ears, and a hand at his hip has to steady her. She can only nod at the rest. With her sensitive ears, she can hear them, but what’s left of her mind isn’t enough to pin them down.

               FRAGILE    WARMTH    between    his    grip.    in    her    condition    she    is    a    feather    held    by   IRON    FISTS   ,    yet     creeping     perturbation    is    forced    behind   ;    the    only    glint    visible    in   a    hardened    gaze.   his    fingers    grip   at    her   torso    ,    her    frequent    stumbling    merely    amplifying    what    he    willed    himself    to   ignore.    for    the    sake    of    SURVIVAL     he    pushes    on.    and   amidst   his   trepidation   he    almost    forgets    the    quiet    steps    echoing    throughout    the    maze   of    cavern    walls   ,    CLOSER   NOW    ,   just     beyond   his    reach.    it    is    subconscious    that    pulls    her   body   near   as    eyes   close    in    concentration   (    his    breathing    escaping    lightly   )    the    shallowest    of    meditation    relaxing    his    body.    an    ancient   vulcan    practice    perfected    by    YEARS    AND    HOURS   of    dedication    is    only    barely     enough     to    pinpoint    a    location.    

         ‘     they    will    round    this    corner   in     forty   -    eight   seconds   ,     ‘    he   murmurs   ,    and    now   his    eyes    snap    open   ,    their    first    destination    landing    upon    her   paling    features.    ‘    nyota   ,   prepare    your   phaser    to    stun.     ‘    and    he    HOPES    her    condition    will    hold    ,    for    no    help    will    come    if    their    followers    stole    them    away   to    a    location    unknown.     ‘    i    cannot     promise   success      ——-     but    I   TRUST   IN    FATE    now.     it    is    all    we    have.   ‘    a    pause.    ‘    i    estimate   three.    if    our    efforts    fail  ,   I    ORDER   YOU    TO    RUN.     ‘