A Moment of Triumph: The Blessing of Saint Markovia (Dice, Camera, Action!)
Perhaps the paladin was one to hesitate at a time like this, to doubt the path that cut so clearly and cleanly through doubt and disorder, but the sorceress was not. No, even if the blessed hero was blind to the truth, Strix could see the answer blazing before her, as brilliantly as Evelyn's blasted sun. All she need was to reach out and take it, grasp it between her fingers before her last chance slipped through the cracks and out of reach.
She slammed the shimmering dust into the bottle fistful after furious fistful, fixing her fangs into the meat of her bottom lip until blood trickled in lazy trails down her pointed chin.
There was no time!
And if this didn't work---but it would work! It had to, she shrieked and screamed, shoving the vile, viscous concoction between his trembling hands. She didn't know much but she knew magic and magic could fix him! Could save him, even when she couldn't. He couldn't die again! Never again!
She watched his shoulders rise and fall in surrender and the apple of his throat bob as he forced the potion down. Anything for her, she knew.
Anything for him.