Rallohir

They sat there for several minutes, then Rallohir pulled away. "We should probably get going, I don't who actually lives here, we were extremely lucky they aren't home."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He pulled her head into his chest, kissing her forehead. "I'm so glad you survived." He choked out, on the verge of sobbing himself

He hugged her, wrapping his arms around her while she cried. After a few minutes he said, "I felt the same way, once. After my parents died and my brother left. I felt that no one really cared whether I was alive or not, and it would be a convenience for them if I died. It would improve their lives, to see me gone. I felt that way for a long time, a sickeningly long time. I didn't really feel differently until... I met you." He pulled away, looking her in the eyes. "I saw your face, the purity and the innocence in your eyes, crying on the train that day, and knew that right there was someone worth living for."

"I couldn't lose another person I love, not again. I tried so very hard to help you see what an amazing person you were, and the even greater person you could be. To fail you in this would be the greatest loss that I could never bear." His voiced cracked, rich with emotion, "You were never and could never be a burden. You could make my day by walking into the room. I could never see you as a burden, and I could never let you die without a fight."

"Why?" His face grew concerned, in more of a loving way than a worried way.

Rallohir opened his eyes, "No, I don't think you are." He said smiling

This time, Rallohir dreamed. It was dark, dark enough that he couldn't see his hands in front of his face. A low hum permeated the air, which was cold and stale. He couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried. Suddenly a lamp was lit, the light temporarily blinding him. As his eyes adjusted, a man's face appeared next the lamp. His face was stern and angular, and his nose was thin and rigid, giving room for prominent cheekbones and jawline. He stared at Rallohir with cold, grey eyes, his dark hair and goatee streaked with lines of silver. The man studied him, but didn't speak, giving Rallohir the chance. "Who are you?" His voice sounded muffled, yet it echoed like he had lost his hearing. The man stood, pulling an arm out of his robe, displaying a pale hand, with slender fingers. He moved his hand forward Rallohir, and when he placed a single finger on his forehead, pain. Like a fire it burned and writhed, searing into his skull, burning away at his being, his very soul. His vision went white, getting brighter and brighter, until finally, darkness. Rallohir woke, but didn't sit up. He still remember his dream, and reached up to touch his forehead. Before he could, he noticed a weight on his chest. Opening his eyes, he saw that Vena had moved in her sleep, using him as a pillow. He laid his head back down, smiling. He looked around, and sighed in relief. However lived here hadn't been home since at least that morning. He looked to the other side, and saw the fire had gone out, the coals still smoldering. He decided it would be better to let Vena sleep, seeing as how she was breathing, and was no longer cold to the touch.

He sat back up, groaning. He felt an unfamiliar emptiness in the Void, the aftereffects of his attempt. She hadn't woken up, so he stood, stretching his tired limbs. After a few minutes he picked Vena up and began hiking. In the corner of his mind he felt a satisfying *pop* as the first of the five-hundred knives spawned in the Void. He pulled it out, a simple blade with a wooden handle, plain yet sturdy. He placed it beneath him and pushed off of it, propelling the two forward several feet before gently setting them on the ground. He pulled the knife forward and placed it in front of them, then pulled them forward again. He repeated this process, over, and over, and over, like the mantra of a man who'd lost his sanity. His mind grew numb to anything but the next leap forward, until... finally... they reached a cabin. He put the knife away and entered, not caring who lived there, and headed over to the fire as quickly as he could, using the rest of his strength to put Vena down close to the fire, then collapsed.

He sighed with relief, collapsing backward in a heap, exhausted from the process

He pulled his knives back, then placed a hand on her heart, he took the power of the 368 remaining knives and poured the vast wealth of power, he sent everything thing he had into her, flowing into her essence in the blink of an eye.

Sorry, I've been busy with the RP, but I can do both of yours today!

My eyes would appreciate dark mode

Once the water had exited her lungs, he placed her on the ground, taking the heated blade and filling it with power, sending over a hundred knives back into the multiverse. Melting the snow around them in a circle. (It's not actually hotter, just radiates way more

He grabbed his superheated knife, setting it on the ground for warmth. He placed two hands on her sternum, and began chest compressions, bringing back memories of his father's training. He went for thirty seconds, then turned her head to the side, then hugged her from behind. He heaved, trying to expel the water from her lungs.

"No..." He formed a raft out of the knives, sharp sides pointed away, and lifted her, placing her down next to him. He checked her heart and lungs.

The flash of color caught his eye, and he stood up, knives gathering underneath him. He ran over to the cloth, pocketing it, and shot as high as he could, searching for where the river came up out of the snow. He spotted it, several miles downhill, and took off in that direction, hoping, praying, that she could survive the river's cold.

He knelt, quietly sobbing, several knives laying in the snow nearby. I failed, I failed her. His thoughts continued to grow more somber as he sat. What have I done...

He stopped, letting the knives fall to the snow. "Why can't I do something RIGHT for once!." He yelled as tears started to fall. "VENA!" He called, voice breaking a little.