Their laughter of man and of inhuman creature coiled around her like some filthy, slimy vine and cut off abruptly her link to Lady Diune - while she was in the midst of her prayer. The wound had begun already to heal, the cleansliced egdes of it knitting together and drawing closed around the blade, like a hoe left many years to lean upon a tree might become grown around and in, only partly visible through the bark. The cutoff came before the painful energy of the wound to be released to her, and Elandriel was abruuptly left bearing the weight of it - needing to put it somewhere, or let it return to her own flesh.<br/><br/>The elf clung to it, still and quivering as she stared down at the unfortunate woman working feverishly between her thighs and succeeding in arousing anew the unwilling heat of physical response - and the tip of her tongue flicked over Elandriel's sensitized clitoris, sparking a breathy cry that burst like the puff of a bellows from her mouth, her head tirning sharply toward Brom, eyes and nostrils flaring.<br/><br/>The wound appeared almost instantly, sharp lttle holes and a slice upward through his bare pectoral muscles - a mirror of what he'd done in her breast, though smaller, as the knife in her flesh meant she couldn't pull out the whole of the wound. Gasping for breath, she stared as a rivulet of blood began to pour down his chest and abdomen.