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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]

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.