[ Darla's protection, maternal inclination washes over Dru's over-active sense for empathy in a wave and it comforts her like a warm blanket. Even cold blooded as she was, Dru still sought warmth like any other living creature. There was perhaps more that was human in her than any of the others in the Whirlwind.
Drusilla isn't afraid of dying - she's been to hell and back and it felt as much like home as anything else, but she worries for Darla. See the weakness in her she always fights so hard to push down and hide away. There isn't much Drusilla doesn't see, but this is one of the things that pains her the most. She doesn't want to leave her, imagine her hiding in the sewers alone, abandoned by her family. Dru knew the feeling too well and never wished it on her loved ones, her beloved grandsire.
But Dru also knew that she'd be slowing her down. Traveling while taking care of her had to wear on Darla. Finding food for two in an already scarce environment would not be easy, she knew it well enough.
As she's tugged, Dru follows along, albeit with a bit of a wobble to her step, but follows dutifully. Watching the back of Darla's head move, blond hair swaying, she speaks, louder than before, but still with a short of shaking to it. ]
Mama hen dotes on the sickly little chick. But doesn't she know? In nature, the ill and injured are left behind. [ She swallows. Dru knows what she's saying, what she's suggesting. She's not afraid. ] They lag.
[ As the come up to one of the crypts, Dru slips her arm from the hold, grabbing one of Darla's hands instead to give a comforting squeeze. She sees the pain in her, the panic, perhaps even more than usually with how disconnected she is from reality at the moment. She doesn't like to see Darla fear. ]
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Drusilla isn't afraid of dying - she's been to hell and back and it felt as much like home as anything else, but she worries for Darla. See the weakness in her she always fights so hard to push down and hide away. There isn't much Drusilla doesn't see, but this is one of the things that pains her the most. She doesn't want to leave her, imagine her hiding in the sewers alone, abandoned by her family. Dru knew the feeling too well and never wished it on her loved ones, her beloved grandsire.
But Dru also knew that she'd be slowing her down. Traveling while taking care of her had to wear on Darla. Finding food for two in an already scarce environment would not be easy, she knew it well enough.
As she's tugged, Dru follows along, albeit with a bit of a wobble to her step, but follows dutifully. Watching the back of Darla's head move, blond hair swaying, she speaks, louder than before, but still with a short of shaking to it. ]
Mama hen dotes on the sickly little chick. But doesn't she know? In nature, the ill and injured are left behind. [ She swallows. Dru knows what she's saying, what she's suggesting. She's not afraid. ] They lag.
[ As the come up to one of the crypts, Dru slips her arm from the hold, grabbing one of Darla's hands instead to give a comforting squeeze. She sees the pain in her, the panic, perhaps even more than usually with how disconnected she is from reality at the moment. She doesn't like to see Darla fear. ]