When Oliver opened his eyes, they were met with a beautiful pair of purple ones. Concern was etched into the delicate features of the bronze-skinned woman who hovered over him. Her eyes glazing with tears as she leaned closer, her raven hair gently brushing against his face.
Slowly, he reached his hand to her face to wipe a tear, caressing the softness of her cheek. He stared at the woman in awe; never had he seen anyone so exotic and beautiful.
Oliver watched as the woman's lips moved; she was obviously speaking, but he couldn't hear it. His ears were ringing.
Annaliese's eyes widened when he suddenly lost consciousness once more. She thoroughly checked his body and was happy to see that his body was recovering from the poison of the parasitic plant.
With a wince, she reached and touched her impaled back. She could feel that the thorn was beginning to nest in her back. She reached for the bloody dagger she previously used on Oliver.
