The Burning Times ((Vivid, Battle, and Tyr ))

[Vivid Fizz]

The City was a dangerous place for Moira Foster, dangerous for any beautiful young woman really, but more so for her. Inside crept the most dangerous thing to her known; Hunters. Being a witch was a dangerous, dangerous thing. For many years normal humans tracked down and murdered those with magical powers. Jealousy, hate, and fear propelled this heinous treatment of those who defied God with their very existence. So much death over blind and blatant bigotry. It was best that a witch avoided New York altogether. It was the epicenter of this newfound inquisition after all.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Weeks had gone by since Moira’s grandmother had fallen ill. At first they assumed it was a nasty cold but, as her condition worsened, the pair realized it was something more. None of the magic or potions that the young woman tried had worked and the old woman refused to go to any doctors, sure that they were all working for the government. Finally Moira’s will broke. By the gods she would not let the only thing that she cared for die.

It was a nice evening. It was just the end of spring and the beginning of summer, so a nice warm breeze greeted everyone in the suburbs. Unfortunately Moira was in the city, peering over an old map that her grandmother had since she was in her twenties. Things had changed considerably since the map had been made. Frantically she studied the thing, looking for things like buildings and street signs to mark her way. Damn it! She crumpled up the useless piece of paper and threw it over her shoulder. As she stomped, her short and flouncy skirt bounced with her movements. People threw looks at her tantrum as they walked past but she paid them no mind. They weren’t the ones in desperate need of medicine and a physician. Each moment she wasted put her grandmother closer to death!

If only she could get one of these people to help her! She nearly laughed at the thought. Help was something that these people did not give willingly. They either A) Blew her off B) Tried to stab her or, and this was her favorite, C) Ogled at her tits for five minutes before asking her if they were real. This city was just so rude! The entire day had been spent trying and failing miserably to find someone who could help.

Perhaps she could use her charms on some of the people? Certainly that would make them more willing to help. Charming people was one of her most powerful abilities and what could it hurt? As dangerous as casting spells were Moira knew that they couldn’t get every single witch every time they cast a spell. It was an impossibility. Not to mention, with a street so full of people, how could they pinpoint the exact person doing it? Having never encountered a hunter before, the witchling had a very caviler view on the matter. She had been very lucky to be in the house of a very powerful witch that spell work was uncanny and unmatched. The old woman had kept her grandchild safe.

The beautiful young woman had never really known the horrors of what lurked in the shadows. Perhaps it would have done her well to learn.

Going up to someone, she flashed her most charming smile. An aura instantly surrounded her. It was warm, inviting, and soothing; as if she was a trusted friend. The man instantly smiled back, eyes slightly glazed. Ha! It worked.

“Excuse me sir,” she said, “I am looking for a Doctor’s office….”

From there she got detailed directions, the name of the fellow, and the time his office was open until. Lucky for her the guy the now dumbfounded man directed her towards ran an after hours clinic. Superb! Patting the spellstruck human on the shoulder she began to head in the direction he told her to first. What a break! Nothing had happened and she got the information she needed. See? No Hunters…

 

[Battleship44]

Vega's childhood could not have been more perfect. He grew up in a loving family mainly consisting of women, they managed to be happy despite the absence of his father. Yet at his seventeenth birthday, everything went to shit when he returned home from celebrations to his family, slaughtered across his floor. Everyone refused to tell him what had happened despite his pleas, every single day he asked and investigated on his own with no luck. Yet finally the day he reached eighteen years of age, the village they all lived him brought him into the town hall, and proclaimed his family was killed by the remaining rogue witches around the area. This, was nothing but a bold lie told with a heavy heart. The truth of the matter was that the village had suspected that since Vega's family was mainly women, they were all descendant of witches.

That doubt, the fear alone propelled them to kill innocent women in their sleep, without warning or discretion. But no, they were too cowardice to admit their mistake, to tell the truth to their one son, their one brother that had his own heart carved out of his chest at the sight. Six years have passed since the day of his family's death, and every single day since then he did nothing but practice, train in the way of the sword, the only weapon known to be able to kill witches immediately, without spells or ineffective guns. His life now had one purpose, and one purpose alone; To become the world's greatest Witch hunter, so that he could extract his pain and revenge on every single woman of their race. Perhaps then, they would feel equal pain.

As fate would have it, Vega had just made his way into New York just as the sunset was beginning to roam over the city. The shadow of the night began to slowly take over the streets, the lights along the roads flickering open one right after the other. Nothing, or no one was near Vega at the time, everyone seemed to avoid a hooded man with a knife hidden under his clothes…for good reason. Suddenly, a crumpled piece of paper landed right infront of his feet, followed by a woman stomping her feet in anger. His brow raised playfully when her skirt was raised as she stomped, revealing a little bit more than she would have liked, yet she didn’t seem to care. He leaned down and picked up the piece of paper in curiosity, trying to open it only struck fear into his eyes, anxiousness…adrenaline.


This map wasn’t current…nor did it belong to humans, a witch…right there in the city. Was she insane? He thought to himself, why in the blue hell would a witch venture into the city, it made absolutely no sense. He slipped out of the shadows, and slowly began trailing the witches footsteps, stalking her like a lion would his prey, never letting her leave his sight, not for a moment. All his questions and doubts were confirmed… right in front of him she had just entranced a man to tell her whatever she needed. The man was blessed by the gods, throwing him his prey right infront of him so he can extract his rightful vengeance, so he can avenge his fallen with one more struck down witch.

 

[Vivid Fizz]

It was starting to get cool. The sun had gone down and, upon the coming of the dark, a slight chill had taken to the air. Goosebumps rose on her perfectly porcelain skin and her slender arms came to wrap around herself to get some warmth. The trip had taken much longer than what she had thought and she had not brought a jacket with her. This little trip was not supposed to last this long!

The beautiful blonde huffed as she followed the directions. Genetics had given her more than good looks, they had also given her a sharp memory. Almost every detailed was remembered. Almost. Some things were hazy and she managed to take a few wrong turns. Moira slumped against a building and gave a sigh. This was no good. How was she going to do this? She backtracked to a sign she remembered and took the left instead of the right. That seemed like the right way!

Though, as darkness settled in the city, different type of people were out and about. Much more sinister than the people she had met during the daylight hours. As she rounded the corner that would lead her to the street the medical clinic was on, three young men stepped out in front of her. They were slender, sinewy boys. They had matching bandannas wrapped around their heads and arms and, to her horror, knives in their hands.

"Hey there," one of them said as he played with the blade. He flipped it open and shut with a grace and agility that she had never seen before. "What is a little mouse like you doing walking a lone? Don't ya know its dangerous out here."

A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed it harshly. As innocent as she was, she knew that this was not a good scenario for anyone to be in. Witch or otherwise. "I was just out for a stroll..." she said, trying to walk around the three. The second, taller than the others, grabbed her arm.

"Dressed like that?" he said. "You're sure drawing a lot of attention to yourself. You look like you're trying to sell something. We're a little interested in buying."

"Oh no!" she said. Each second made her voice go higher until it was just a squeak. "I am not trying to sell anything. Now let me go!"

"Let you go? Why would we do that? If you ain't selling that means we don't have to buy..."

Again she struggled against the man's grip but the third swooped in for her other arm and the first grabbed her hair and gave it a good yank.

"You'd be good for the Underground. I bet the boss would go nuts over you're hot piece of ass!"

There were too many to try and cast spells against and, with them holding her, she could not slip between the veils of the physical realm and the ethereal. A lump rose in her throat again.

 

[Battleship44]

Vega kept trailing her like the shadow of the night itself, not a single breath or sound escaped him as his prowling continued, waiting to see the witch’s destination. His expression went grim as she turned into the back alley of the street, knowing full well what kind of people lingered around there at night. Yet he didn’t make a sound, he didn’t intervene nor warn her, he simply followed, stalked, waited. She turned the corner, and he stayed behind it, only peeking slowly to find her being harassed by the thugs, his ear perking to every little word that escaped her lips and their own. Instinctively, his hand reached for the dagger hidden beneath his clothes, gripping the hilt tightly as he continued to listen. He was faced with a dilemma…he could let her be…pretend this whole thing never happened, and let her to her fate, to be savagely raped and used by these men. But if he saved her…if he took her away from those men, he could extract his revenge on her himself, he would get the opportunity to rid the world of another witch on his own.


The temptation for the latter was too overpowering, he had suffered to much to bottle up his anger and frustration, always ready to take it out on anybody. Finally, he took the dagger out of hiding, and placed his finger through the hole in the hilt, twirling it around his finger as he stepped from the shadows, and somewhat into sight. The dagger was rather big, scary skills would be needed to twirl and maneuver it so easily like it was nothing. The man’s face was hidden under the hood of his jacket, only trails of his long, black hair fell on his chest, his hazel green eyes striking the men from the shadows, only part of him visible from the moon light. “Pathetic…” The first word escaped his lips, his tone angered…frustrated, strong. “You low lives have nothing better to do with your lives than prey on women…have you grown so disgusting that you would treat your own race like slaves…your OWN race.” His last words were abit of a yell, despite his calm and collected posture.


He expected retaliation, but he would never give them a chance to. He stood for a moment during the cliché questions. Who are you, what are you doing here, what do you want, leave us alone…everything. Yet he only took his steps forward slowly, walking towards the men and the witch as more of his figure exposed. He was one of the most handsome men anyone laid eyes on, his long, black, fizzy hair almost looked like a lion’s mane, his eyes shot with anger and determination. In what seemed a few seconds, he was already right next to the man holding the witch. His arm swung up, and hit the man’s elbow from beneath it with pinpoint accuracy, breaking his arm in an instant.


The other lunged at him from behind, all it took was a graceful leap over both of them, and in another second both were struck by the end of the dagger, rendering both men unconscious. Only one left that realized what had just happened, and Vice turned to the man with a glare that could free hell itself over. “Run, dog…to the bitch you call your boss, you belong with filth like him” With that, the man put his tail between his legs and dragged himself away, his faced drenched in tears of fear and pain. Vice slipped his dagger back into his belt, and turned to face the witch finally, his eyes plain and his face without expression.

 

[Vivid Fizz]

Everything happened so quickly. Moira could scarcely catch anything, let alone everything. A man had come out, one slinging and swinging daggers, and chased off the others that had cornered her. Pain filled howls and meaningless threats followed the terrible men. Legs shook and she found herself sinking to her knees. Her stockings caught on the rough cement of the ground and tore a little. Though she hardly cared. Her heart was still thumping so loud that it echoed in her head. A hand rested on top of her chest, right above where her corset cut off. Tears streaked down her pale cheeks as he turned and faced her.

Gratitude washed over her and she attempted to peel herself up from the ground but something stopped her. There was something about this man that she could not pinpoint. It frightened her. In a fit of panic she attempted to calm herself over the matter. The reason why she was so worried was because of what just happened. Her trust had been shattered for the evening and she just had not recovered from it. At least that is what she hoped it was.

"T-thank you," she squeaked. Still on the ground she shifted, placing her firm rear on her ankles as she sat, to give her knees a break. "I had no idea what I was going to do! You saved me." Full, pink lips trembled and she looked up at him pathetically with eyes a twinkle from tears.

 

[Battleship44]

Vega’s eyes connected with the witch’s own as she squeaked out her thanks, tears almost rolling down her eyes in fear and shock. He still gave her an expressionless look, what was he supposed to make of this…the frightening witch was on the ground, like a young, fragile woman broken by fear and abuse. This was not what he signed up for, this was not the same as the people who killed his family. Yet, the idea of it alone terrified him, the she was the one that robbed his family away from him, that she was responsible just like all of her kind of his family’s death. Vega lowered his hand and took hold of her own, pulling her up quickly and resting her back against his chest so she doesn’t stumble to the floor. Her stocking ripped a little bit more, all what he did seemed like it was in a kind way to help her stand, but all the was erased when the tip of his dagger aligned itself with her throat, pressing her against his chest tighter as his bare hands trembled, both in anger and in hesitation.


“This doesn’t make any sense…witches aren’t supposed to be as fragile and…innocent as you are…this is not what I signed up for…but give me a reason, give me one reason not to take your life right here after your race took away the life of my entire family.” It was obvious that he was struggling with himself, unable to determine wither killing her was the right decision. He needed vengeance, he need a reason to blame his pain on, he needed someone to direct it towards…but she wasn’t what he needed. “Your supposed to be an evil race…one that cares not for human lives, and take it so easily…that’s what your kind did with me…I should kill you, I should kill you right now but…my goddamn heart is not dead yet…how can you be like the one’s that killed my sisters, when you look so much like them…” He never expected to let her live this long, the plan was to kill her where she stood, to rid the world of another beast that doesn’t deserve to live…but no, he couldn’t. Despite his words, his body wouldn’t allow him to kill her. He was not a monster, he was not a merciless murderer like them.

 

[Vivid Fizz]

At first she resisted being pulled up. Just his touch managed to send her completely haywire. All of her magic sparked and jumped inside of her, warning her. Though her delicate and frail body was no match for his strength. The sound of her stocking ripped echoed in her ears. Another warning, perhaps? It was so hard to tell what was going to happen to her. Against his chest she was pulled and she could hear his heart. Unlike hers it was even, tempered, and cool. This helped calm her a little and then, it sped slightly, as something cold and sharp was pressed against her neck. She swallowed roughly, nearly knicking her skin with the action. That perfect, flawless pale skin that nearly reflected in the moonlight.

Listening to him talk made her fear for her very life. He knew! Even with how careful she had thought she had been, he knew that she was a witch. Her whole body shivered in his grasp. Though there was warmth in his body he himself was like a pillar of ice. And it struck her deeply. Hand came up to tug at the arm, sending the sweet sent of her perfume flying with the movement. The slight girl was alluring in her innocence.

"I would never hurt anyone," she whispered. "Please. If you must kill me, mister, at least wait until I get medicine for my grandmother. She is very ill but refuses to see the doctor herself. I need to get her help. She is an old lady, so weak she can barely lift her head! Follow me home, let me nurse my nana back to health, and then you can kill me."

If she could save her grandmother she would have gladly laid down her life.

 

[Battleship44]

Vega shot her abit of a glare when she tugged on his arm, and explained to him her grandmother’s condition. Once again, she un-awarely struck him right there were it hurts. He had lost his own family because they were killed …would he do the same, and let this girl’s family die because of him?...was that really the right way to take Revenge? Vice slowly took the dagger away from her throat, hesitantly slipping it back on his belt, and yet he turned her to look into her eyes, his hands holding onto her shoulders tightly so she doesn’t escape. Finally, the handsome man’s face was exposed to her fully as his hood slipped down, and his hair dropped over his chest and back. It was a surprise, such a cold and skilled killer looked like he belonged in a magazine, like he was one of the most elegant people this earth has ever seen. The first sign of emotion took over his expression despite his will, his eyes were clearly pained and hurt as he looked into hers, struggeling with his own confidence and restraint.


“Have you not heard anything I said…your kind was responsible for my mother and sisters death…why should I repay you with kindness…why should I allow your grandmother to live when her generation was the reason my entire family died?” he wanted an answer, not just to the question, but a justification to his actions. He couldn’t bear the guilt of taking the life of the young, beautiful witch, the calm, collected man was somewhat breaking apart infront of her. He was confused, hurt, and everything he didn’t want to show her spilled out like a flood. Despite everything, he struggled with himself because he could feel her pain, he knew that she herself didn’t do anything…he put himself in her shoes, if it was his mother that was sick he would have easily gave his own life away to save her…what right did he have to decide if all these witches he had been killing needed to live or die…finally someone had broken the facts in front of him, the fact that he could not just continue feeding his mindless crusade of vengeance.

 

[Vivid Fizz]

A shuddering sigh of relief escaped her. He had lowered the blade from the delicate column of her throat. The hooded Hunter was going to let her live after all! At least long enough to ask her more question. A knot tied in her stomach and it churned like a boat on choppy waters. A bead of sweat rolled down her face, which was even paler than normal. He turned her to face him, lowering the hood that covered his looks. What she saw stunned her. The face beneath was not a horrible sight, like she had imagine. Instead it was a face that looked like it had been crafted by the spirits solely to beguile her. Beautiful men had always been a weakness of hers and, as protected as she was, she rarely saw any. The pain in his eyes struck her as well as his words. This man; this hunter had a past that caused him untold amounts of pain.

“I have heard,” she replied in a whisper. “I have and I understand you need to have your vengeance and while I don’t understand why that has to come out on me, you should be allowed to avenge the deaths of your family. I only ask for a small mercy though. My grandmother is sweet and is liked by all in our neighborhood. She helps everyone out and it would hurt them all if she were to pass like this. I beg of you. Let me save her. She… she is all that I have and I would rather be dead than see her suffer.”

Her chest heaved with how rapidly she was breathing. Her head swam with all of the emotions that were going through her body. Why hadn’t she simply enchanted this young man into doing what she wanted? It would have caused less grief for her and allow her to slip easily away. Golden red, vibrant curls hung over her shoulder and she tugged at the ringlet nervously.

“For her safety I am handing myself over to you. Don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die!”

 

[Battleship44]

Vega couldn’t help but frown at the young witch’s comments, she seemed as fragile as a piece of glass, yet as innocent as a child. He didn’t know what to do anymore, only tilting his head to the side at her pleads for her grandmother. Once again he was struck by a dilemma…he had no idea wither going with what she says was a trick, or was she really just trying to save a loved one. Finally however…his hands dropped from her shoulders, and one of them lowered to hold her own tightly, just to still have a secure grip on her in fear of her escaping him. The other brushed some hair from his eyes, and he rubbed the inside corner of them softly. His head tilted a little to look at the witch and his voice was a little calmer than before, regaining some of his lost composure.

“If I agree to this…and show you this act of kindness…you will come with me to the government center afterwards…the cost of your grandmother’s life will be in their hands, I cannot bring myself to kill you…for I am weak, pathetic and weak.” He looked away from her once again, and his hand tightened a little more on her own as he began walking, not even waiting for a reply from her. He just wanted to get it over with, the more he looked at her the more he saw a normal, beautiful woman…not a witch like the ones who scarred him so deeply. “Your name, witch.”


He asked quietly as they began walking through the streets of New York, he pulled her so close that she almost his into his jacket, shielding her from people’s eyes. Her clothes were all torn after all, he didn’t really need some other thugs to jump out and cause him more struggles. “If I am going through with this…I need to know the name of the one witch I spared…if you know me, then you know I have not let one witch live yet…consider yourself my one sin, the one sin I took against myself.”

 

[Vivid Fizz]

Moira could have cried in relief! He had spared not only her grandmother’s life but hers as it. The urge to hug him overpowered her but she managed to keep it under control. This figure was still a dangerous, dangerous man. How was she to know this was all not some cruel plan to get her to lead him to her grandmother so he could easily kill the both of them? This was a chance she would need to take. It was risky but she knew that now, given what had happened, it was the only way.

“Moira,” she told him as she was tugged along. She tripped over the heels of her boots and winced. He could have been a bit more kind in his treatment of her! She pouted as he tugged and she, for a second, fought for her hand back. “And I don’t think your weak. I think that this mercy shows a strength that so many have ignored in this day and age!” She paused and tried to think of what to say next. Thin ice was what she was walking on and it would do her well to tread carefully across it with her words. “I am sorry but I do not know of you. My grandma has kept me away from the city for the most part.”

The witch then looked around and noticed that they were past the one after hours clinic that was pointed out for her. She dug her heels in. Thank the gods that they were thick and did not snap under the pressure. “Wait! We need to get medicine for her or a doctor!”

 

[Battleship44]

Vega only sighed loudly when she tripped, and his head tilted to look at her while listening to what she had to say. She was lucky enough he let her live, and now she was being slow and a liability, it was too much for him to keep his cool. She pointed at the clinic, and he rolled his eyes for a moment before walking up to her and sweeping her from the floor. He carried her in his arms, draping her legs over one and resting her head against his chest, simply to make this quick and not have her trip every two seconds. He didn’t speak much when he did, and began walking his way towards the building, slowly approaching the clinic with her in his arms. “Mercy is not something the strong posses…at least that’s not what I was taught. If I was strong, you wouldn’t be alive…I thought I had killed whatever emotions that remained In my heart a long time ago…but you proved this wrong, its why I don’t know what to do with you”

they came closer and closer to the building with each step, Vice letting out another sigh, looking down at her for a moment. His eyes were a little bit kinder than before, trying to ignore the fact that she was a witch for the time being. “Well, Moira…enjoy your last few moments of peace, the government doesn’t take it easy on your kind. If I hand you to them, my conscious will be clear of all the guilt you sprung into me.” His steps quickened a little bit more, until the reached the door to the clinic and he walked in with her, scanning the room as it was infested with diseased, ragged people. It wasn’t the friendliest one you can walk into, the city was plagued with violence and pain. “Find what you need, and lets go.”

 

[Vivid Fizz]

His arms were strong and he easily lifted her from the ground. Almost at once she felt safe as she was placed against his chest, despite his words. Her cheeks burnt a brighter red than parts of her lovely hair. Ba-dump. She heard his heartbeat. It was steady and calm again and worked to soothe her. Eyes closed and she took in her scent, catching herself halfway through, and chastising herself immediately. This man was her Angel of Death and was all to eager to deliver her to Oblivion’s door. He spoke more and she blushed even brighter.

“I am sure that I didn’t cause that…” she trailed off and decided not to press the matter. If he wanted to believe that she had touched something inside of him then she would let him. No magic would have such results. If she was able to get under his skin already then maybe, just maybe, she could convince him to let her grandmother and herself go. She chuckled at herself and shook her head. No. A promise was made and Moira was going to make sure to keep it. She did not realize that it was this sort of behavior that was so charming her captor.

When she was carried to the clinic, she gasped. The people of this city! Tears welled up in her eyes. Their energy assaulted her. They were all so sad, angry… and they were unable to mask themselves as well as the man who held her. It was almost too much for her and she looked up at Vega with a trembling lip. Beautiful, sweet, kindhearted witch.

“Alright,” she shuddered, hoping out of his arms. She walked towards where the medicines were kept. Eyes scanned the shelves and she became confused. With the massive amounts of pain from every direction and all of the different medicines she could scarcely find her footing! With a sigh she took an armful of the many boxes and pills and headed towards the counter. “Hopefully I have enough cash for all of this.”

 

[Battleship44]

Vice only tilted her head at the witch oddly when she hopped down, and began rummaging through everything, just placing stuff in her pack without even knowing what it is, while fact was she had money for about one of them, not all. He face palmed for a moment, looking at her and just watching if she was serious or not, but after a little while he let a sigh escape him, and he walked up behind, placing his hand on her shoulder and patting it lightly. “You have no idea what your putting in there, do you?” He eyed her for a moment, with a more playful, inquisitive smirk rather than a degrading one. Finally he took her pack from her, and turned to the counter to dump everything she stuffed in there on it. He then turned to her once more, and brushed a hair from her face as it fell into her eye, tilting his head abit. “So, your going to need to describe to me what your grandmother’s condition is, the money you have only buys one of these so you need to be conservative, you can’t just…dump everything in your pack, it doesn’t work like that here.”


He sounded a little snobbish, maybe, but still kind in his tone, only wanting to help. He knew stray eyes stalked them, stalked her…the disgusting filth that sat behind them were looking at her like an object, a plaything they can use for whatever they desire, and yet once again his protective nature over the witch…the girl…took over him, and he grabbed the hilt of his dagger just in case, talking to her but setting his eyes on the men behind her. “And you better make it quick…if you don’t want heads flying off, and blood squirting everywhere.”
He had a more serious look on his face all of a sudden, the place creeped him out, irked him to a point where he couldn't stand the smell of it, just wanting to take her and get out of here. This day was not going his way, and now he had a witch on his hands that he couldn't kill, something that offered him absoloutley no problem in the past.

 

[Vivid Fizz]

Moira stared blankly at him for a moment. How did he know how much money she had? She hadn’t taken it out of her backpack yet. When he took her pack off of her back she reached for it, sending the pills that were in her arms falling all over the place. She hadn’t put the medicine in her backpack, why was he taking it and dumping it out in front of everyone! Inside were a change of clothes, a flashlight without working batteries, a book that had the outline of a star on it, a bunch of tampons, pens, note books, a furled up twenty dollar bill. She wasn’t sure how much a twenty could buy her but it was a fifth of a hundred, so she had assumed a lot. Her face was burning a bright red and she picked up the bottles. At least none of them had broken open and she would not have to buy them.

“Her symptoms?” she question as she regained her footing. “Well, she had a fever for seven days but that has subsided and now she just keeps getting weaker and weaker. She is shaking and barely able to move. Her muscles are sore and she is losing the ability to speak…”

That was an odd assortment of ailments but it was what her grandmother was going through. She looked at the prices and winced. At most she could afford two of them and she turned desperate eyes at him. “Which ones will help her? I don’t know and the print is so small.”

This place was pressing in on her and making her feel sick herself. So many people thinking and feeling so many things. It was too much for her! She was using all of her self will to keep in place. A lump rose in her throat and she swallowed harshly.