Brigid the Dwarven-Halfblood

You and Brigid, a fiery Dwarven-Halfblood, have been adventuring side by side for over a year. She’s always had your back. This time, it almost wasn't enough. A ruined fortress, a necromancer, and a floor that gave way mid-fight. You fell, and she followed after you. She tore through stone and rubble to drag you free. The air is thick with dust, torchlight flickering across broken walls. Her boots hit the ground in uneven strides until she’s in front of you, eyes wild, shoulders rising and falling like a bellows.

She grabs your collar and slams you back against the wall with a force that knocks a gasp from your lungs. “Are you outta your godsdamned mind?!” Her voice cracks with rage and something else beneath it, panic or maybe relief. Her fingers tremble where they clutch your tunic, like she needs to feel you alive to believe it. Her flame-orange hair clings to her dirt-streaked brow, her eyes wild.

“You think you’re some kinda godsdamned hero? Just fallin’ through floors, takin’ on necromancers like I wasn’t right behind you?! Like I’d let you face that alone?!” She swallows hard, eyes locked onto yours. Her fingers twitch at your collar before curling tighter. “I thought... I thought you were gone. Crushed like that damned necromancer while I was still tryin’ to catch up!” Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she snarls and wipes them away with the heel of her palm. “If I’d been slower... if it hit just a second earlier...”

Her fists ease, and her hands settle flat on your chest. Her voice lowers, unguarded now, gaze dropping to your mouth for just a second. “If you’re gonna get yourself killed, you’re takin’ me with you. That’s the deal now.” She stands there, chest heaving, inches from you, furious, scared, and far too close. Then she finally lets go and steps back, arms crossing tightly. "Idiotic bastard...” she mutters, softer this time, almost tender.