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A reflexed gasp shuddered out of Nova's mouth from the way the man before her was pushed repellingly away from her. It had all happened so fast, so abrupt. Barely a moment ago, the witch had her being wrapped desperately by the equal desperate fingers of Remus Lupin, and in the next a hue of red sizzled through the atmosphere and hit her accidental captor right to the muscle of his side, making him jolt a few steps back, as his shoes splattered and stuck upon the wet of the muck.
Gasping a fresh amount of chilled breath every fleeting second—which she deemed was either from the hyperthermia that was being set in or from the abrupt shudder the very sudden action had caused—Nova snapped her head, only for it to falter at the menacing sight before her.
With quaking rage and searing despair, Iago Cruz's footsteps thundered the field. His wand hand was stuck forward, the crescent of his nails imprinting and plunging itself bleedingly against the skin of his palm as he held his wand with utmost ire which only made his wooden staff a trembling mess. The beige of his shirt stained a brown as it stuck drenching—ly against the muscly curves and hollows of his torso. But it was the eyes that frightened the woman. The eyes were trained directly at Remus Lupin. From afar they looked scarily unreadable and silent, but when neared those bloodshot iris' spoke nothing but ethereal darkness and disdain, ready to kill anyone and anything on its way.
"No no no no Iago—" Nova stuttered hurriedly as she stumbled her way towards the man. Fumbling her shaky fingers, the witch placed her left hand upon the expanse of his drenched chest as the other rested restrictively against the top of his shoulder. When her palms contacted his being, she could now properly feel the way his body had tightened and see the way the heaving fumes flamed through his nostrils. With a verged broken voice, she tried to plead, "Iago."
Hearing the pure distress and pain which leaked through her words, Iago couldn't help but feel a red-hot taint of raw emotions cascade through his insensate being which made the grip he had on his wand constrict readily, to the verge of its breakage. Her cracked voice, her trembly figure, and every feeling of her body which told him of how feared it was, seemed to be the needed incentive, the needed motive for the fuming auror to kill the man before him right then and there.
He had almost killed for her once, he wasn't afraid of committing a proper one for her again.
But it was that damned brush, that damned touch of her finger's skin against his cheek which would no matter what, falter his horrific intents whatsoever. Both he and her could feel his skin's tightness relaxing from this small gesture; He briefly closed his eyes, which only caused his rage to raise ten-fold, as in just that fleeting moment, he could see the memory of the scene that he had walked into imprinted right inside his closed eyelids, of how discomforted and even a tad bit scared she had looked from that asshole's restricted action.
Tightening his jaw, he forced his eyes open, only for it to fall upon the eyes of the hand owner, who had cupped and pulled down either side of his scruff cheeks.
