what's left, you make something of it

Noire, standing a decent number of paces away and vulnerable enough that any attack would be her undoing. Noire, so focused on what’s in front of her that she doesn’t see what’s coming, unprotected and more alone than she’s ever been, none the wiser.

Severa, hands full enough already with a broken shield, watching it about to happen. Severa, feeling her muscle memory as it kicks in–

—

Sometimes loving someone means jumping in front of an arrow for them.

(Severa finds out the hard way that a near-death experience will have you reconsider your outlook on life a bit.)