Words were caught in her throat, words that could explain to him that she could only feel whatever blows were dished out to the Captain who was connected to her mind by sticky, invasive shadows, words that could offer some sort of hope because she knew that he was suffering damage as well as Pierre. But they remained stuck along with whatever air she was struggling so desperately to take into her lungs, and never reached the anxious vampire\'s ears. Storm was too distracted by pain to hear anything that Damien was saying to her.
She was unaware of the bruises forming at her throat and across her abdomen. The girl could heal them, if she had the energy, but it wasn\'t exactly the first thing on her mind at the moment. The searing pain in her throat was the worst, and her right hand crept slowly toward the blackening flesh while her expression remained far-away. If it wasn\'t for the fact that the Captain would sense her watching, she would have reached through the shadows to look through his eyes, at least to see how things had progressed. The anxiety that she felt leaking from Damien was enough to increase her own, tenfold.
There was a shocking pain in her head, as though it were a second after she had either fallen on her face or had it kicked in. The only noise the Akari made was a muted, surprised cry. A bruise had begun to form under her eye, but did not swell. Later, looking back on the situation, the girl would have been silently thankful that she had attempted to remove the number of shadows that she had prior to this fight. If she kept them all, more then bruises would have been appearing on her skin.
For a few, haunting moments, she was granted peace, as though the two had stopped for a moment to catch their breath. It caused Storm to gasp, eyes wide in confusion. She opened her mouth to speak, and nearly forced the words that had been caught out into the air, but found that she could not. The fact that she could still feel his will to fight meant that Pierre had not gone down yet, and she ached to tell Damien this if anything at all.
It wasn\'t even a few seconds after the period of silence before a sudden shockwave of pain ripped through her left forearm as though the bone inside had been shattered. Even though nothing was broken, the flesh swelled hotly and her skin blackened with a new bruise to mark a fight she had never participated in. She cried out again, in surprised pain, her right hand flying to the tender, damaged flesh and touching it gingerly. Still, her eyes remained straight ahead as though she were stuck watching something she had no desire to watch--though in reality she could see nothing.
Almost instantly after the crippling pain in her arm, the muscled of her throat tightened and closed off her access to oxygen. The fingerprint-like bruises dotting her reddening throat deepened, as though invisible fingers were pressing against her. Liquid panic rushed through her as she fought for every breath, sickly-yellowed eyes wide and afraid. It wasn\'t until her legs felt as though they had gone alight in flames that the pressure on her windpipe had vanished. Underneath her pants, her skin had been scorched red hot as though she had gotten terrible sunburn after a day of lying out under its heat.
Sputtering for every breath, Storm looked directly at Damien for the first time that entire night, eyes flashing and consumed in pain. With dread, she knew that he had become fire, even if it was for a short period of time. And while the girl knew that the fight had ended, she had no way of knowing if Pierre had been incinerated or not.
"D--," she swallowed, stuttering through a frantic sentence, "Damien, Pierre\'s--" Storm was still trying to catch her breath, nearly hyperventilating because of the pain racing through nearly every inch of her body. It took her a moment to recover to the point where she could speak clearly, and she spoke as quickly as her tongue allowed.
"The fight\'s over. I don\'t know what\'s happened to Pierre."