@goreamour for Robin’s Immortality (and medical crisis).
She thinks she speaks, but her voice is all around her, echoing—screaming the words, whispering the words, singing the words, chanting the words, reciting the words, sobbing the words, in every language she knows, all at once, again and again.
Deep within the mother: Die and be reborn.
Robin drops. The resin alter and her glass jar shatter into white sand at the same time. Her crystals lie on the ground whole and undamaged, still glowing. The candles drop, sooty and with warped dripping wax. The pentagram below her is burned into the ground. Her blood stains the sand. The dagger drops, landing beside her.
Her liquid potion turns clear white, and from where she lies, she sees it form into a perfect sphere, aligning with her gaze until it cannot be differentiated from the moon.
Robin stares up at it with white eyes like a mirror to the full moon, tears continuing to drip down the sides of her face, unblinking. Unmoving. Unable to move.
Her wound gapes pitch black and glows white like an event horizon. It no longer bleeds but its depth suggests a fatality and yet she breathes on.
The liquid sphere drops in turn, onto her chest and into her wound. Steam rises from it.
The magical dome of protection she had created begins to steam as well, pulsing with vague light, calling out into the darkness. To the one whose imprint binds these wards.
Wherever Caleb was, this binding would instinctively and urgently bring him to her side.
