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[katyafeline]

The world of the Twilight is utterly bizarre. Even Others know this - the blazing sky, the grayed out surroundings, the blue moss growing here and there and sometimes everywhere.

Being sent into the Twilight by a stronger foe is even more bizarre. She knows her body hurts - there's an ache she didn't quite leave behind when she was shoved out of the human world. She's lost track of the common landmarks of Moscow, and has been wandering for what feels like forever. It's getting harder to move - the Twilight is sucking away her warmth, her strength, leaving only aching cold.

Panic is starting to set in. Despite all her training, she can't get free of the Twilight's grey grip, she can't find any of the Nightwatch to help, and she knows that soon... she'll never leave.

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[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

For a long, painful moment, nothing changes. If it weren't for Olga's wards holding her tight, she would simply fall away - too tired, too injured to soldier on any longer, Gesar's fighting tiger finally slaughtered in the streets of Moscow, dying under the fake sun of a magically-created world.

There is a faint whisper of an apology, for not being able to turn and rally one last time. The girl who has been loyally achieving what her commanders have told her to do for decades can no longer obey. She has nothing - she cannot even retreat into herself and heal under trance. There is only the dull, drawn-out waiting for the end to come.

And then.

And then.

Power, raw glorious power, not Light nor Dark but something beyond them both, pouring like a cataract over her being. She gasps desperately, her heels and fingers digging into the soggy loam, her ruined body twisting in agony. She'd scream, but vocal cords aren't a vital organ. Thus, there is no audible response... but the mental cry is desperate, ragged and raw.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Olga hears that sound rip across her mind and smiles. Like a babe being brought into the world, that scream is a herald to the universe.

Not today.

Not on her watch.

The grass smoulders around them, charred black in a ten foot radius around the two, a ten foot sphere really. Nothing organic within the boundary survives, all turned to carbon and ash.

Olga holds tight as the last remnants of the spell cascade over and through them, using her craft to make sure not a shred of the gifted energy goes to waste. She takes none for herself. It all goes into Tiger Cub, and even with that, it may still not be enough.

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

She is greedy in this moment, grasping every shred of power she can, forcing it into a form she knows how to use, her newly repaired heart crashing in her still-shattered chest to keep going, keep going at all costs.

She falters and grasps and digs her not-there claws in, refusing to surrender to death. Her hands twist, broken fingers ignored, and she uses the power given to start hauling herself back to the land of the living.

Starting by wrapping her hand around Olga's, steady if not entirely strong, an external link to reality.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

Olga's hand caresses the few strands of blond hair back from Katya's eyes, strokes along her cheek, crooning softly under her breath.

"Not today, my friend. Not today."

[katyafeline.livejournal.com]

She's fighting now, fighting hard, but unlike in Moscow, she has a chance of winning. Slowly, by inches, centimeters, she's repairing the catastrophic damage dealt to her - ruptured organs, shredded blood vessels, bones crushed to dust, muscles flattened into uselessness.

A thin thread of her awareness, the her that was left defeated but undamaged, twines around the more powerful Other's aura.

Gratitude. Relief. Exhaustion. Confusion.

She's simply too busy and worn to project more than emotion, vague impressions.

[olyabird.livejournal.com]

The protective warding still cradles the younger woman, body and soul, like a cocoon protects the caterpillar in transition. The magic needs time to do its work.

Olga sings softly under her breath, a lullaby in the old tongue, trying to soothe her confusion, to lessen the need to struggle away from the pain.

She wonders if anyone heard the report and will find them here. She doesn't have a spare hand to ward around them, not yet. In another few minutes, perhaps.

Right now, she needs to hold on just a little longer, and only Katya herself can finish what she set in motion.