Born in the lap of luxury with a gold-star education, Willowren is a flawless healer for most people. However, most people don't have dark magic - something entirely foreign that no class could have prepared her for. Given that she takes a lot of things for granted, her inability to easily heal Rivek's physical (and emotional) wounds is troubling, challenging, and humbling for her.
When I design magic powers, I don't really like them to be flashy, no glowing lights and smoke and stuff. It's grotesque, organic manipulation with an academic overtone - representative of how we try to study to understand the things around us. I want it to be something humans have attempted to harness but is powerful and mystic but a little bit horrifying in such a way that it draws respect from its users.
Haha, everything I write has the same tone. Too much of what I write is driven by dialogue and too much of it is painfully sarcastic.
Despite the warm, muggy weather, Willowren felt goosebumps on her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, oh my god. I've never done this before." Her fingers were so stiff, they trembled as she unbuttoned Rivek's torn shirt.
"I'm sure you've seen a little blood." He winced. The wound was deeper than he'd expected, and his corrosive, acidic blood was widening the gash every second.
She massaged either side of the tear, trying to coax the muscle and intestinal fiber back together. The skin would hold itself together momentarily, but seconds later, the blood would burn its way through again and put her back to the beginning. She grimaced as she felt the muscle underneath her fingers writhing as he breathed.
"Really, usually, it stays closed." On any other man it would have. How disgustingly ironic that her best friend would be the only one she couldn't easily help.
"I'm thinking you'll have to do this manually." He coughed, partially to clear the blood welling in his throat but more fighting to stay conscious.
She fumbled while threading the needle, cursing her own hands as her friend's complexion grew paler. She swallowed, hoping not to retch from the stink of burning flesh. Finally, she was able to dig the needle into his skin. Relative to his current situation, the needle felt like a minor nick.
"You can do it." He scoffed to cover how bad the pain was. "But wipe your eyes. I'd rather not have you crying when you operate on me."
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