Foggy Bottom Way ratero

dtv wolves are welcome to lightly pp/npc faustus!

Akavir, this heave of breath comes out sharp, but not cold; he wanted to help, she knew this, she knew it, and her eyes burn with something like a plea. don't fuckin' touch her.
The rallying pain that belonged to Silvertongue twists deep and dull inside the chasm that was now Wren's body. Rigid, heavy, every move felt as if she were made of stone. And then, a first for her; a rabid, venomous show of teeth peels back her lips. One that says so much more than words could. Back away.
But Wren does not make her own approach, lest the scorn of her lover be then turned upon her, and Wren could not bear the thought while her heart stutters so—
In desperation, she swivels in the direction of the woman, the blonde. A sting, a bite; something, somehow, had gotten to her, and the trembles are fought with a seething clench of muscles. There was not enough time to bring her home, and Akavir's approval was not exactly sought as sound explodes to shards in her ears.
Belladonna was not dying. No, not fucking today.
If you fuckin' hurt her, as hard as she tries, Wren cannot will the rest of the heinous warning from her mouth. Again does she look to her lover, and again does she feel the walls of her throat swell and close and the familiar weight of dismay.
She is not wanted and yet she chases anyway, and what does that make her?