ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ ɪ'ʟʟ ꜰɪx ɪᴛ,
ᴡʜᴏ ᴇʟꜱᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ?
<>
Chapter 19
Scene One
[Shuri's Labratory]
[6:30 pm]
"Princess!"
The loud and boisterous yell of none other than the general herself fills the mostly quiet atmosphere of Shuri's laboratory as the woman barges in fuming with anger. A visible scowl crosses Shuri's face as she maneuvers from her desk towards the now open chamber of Sage's body in urgency, ignoring Okoye as best as she could.
"Princess?" Okoye barks once more as she catches sight of the scampering woman. "What is the meaning of this?" She questions in an authoritative yet shocked voice as she watches Shuri's movements with growing concern.
"You're asking as if you don't already know, Okoye," Shuri responds smartly, laced with a mix of exasperation and sharp wit. Her eyes trail Sage's body, landing on her chest, where visible cords are attached under her clothing. "I'm sure you've already talked to my brother and he's briefed you on Sage here," she continues, still not turning to look at the general, her focus solely on the task at hand.
"This is madness, Princess!" Okoye hisses, confirming Shuri's words. "This woman... She's a stranger, an outsider who we know nothing about. And from what Ayo has told me, she seems unstable and quite dangerous," Okoye complains, her worry etched into her face as she speaks with fervent emotion.
"Brother knows her, I'm sure he wouldn't bring someone dangerous into our home... Into his sister's lab," Shuri sighs, her voice a mix of frustration and defense in the face of Okoye's skepticism.
Shuri doesn't know Sage personally, and she doesn't have any particular feelings for the woman. Yet, she knows her brother and believes that his actions are always guided by the best interests of their family. While she doesn't have an emotional connection to Sage, she trusts her brother's judgment implicitly. As his sister, she's determined to support him, regardless of her personal opinions.
"Of course, I know the prince wouldn't endanger Wakanda, but this woman is someone he met briefly, under harsh and difficult circumstances. The person he knew there may not be the same as the one who appears here --and excuse me for saying this, but the person she was there doesn't seem like the kind i'd want in our kingdom" Okoye asserts sternly, unwavering in her concern.
Shuri stands her ground, her own determination unwavering. "I understand your concern, Okoye, but try to respect my brother's choices," she states firmly, her patience wearing thin as she just wants to focus on her work.
Okoye can't shake off the feeling that her concerns are being brushed aside, not just by T'Challa and Shuri, but even by the queen. With a huff of frustration, she takes a single step back, her anger momentarily subdued.
"Sorry for the intrusion, Princess," she states, her voice carrying a note of resignation as she starts to retreat from the room. Shuri opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Okoye makes a swift exit, leaving Shuri behind with Sage and a sense of unresolved tension hanging in the air.
Shuri's eyes return to Sage, a mix of exasperation and determination on her face. "See the problems you're already causing," she mutters, the words carrying a hint of humor as she reaches for a pair of gloves, quickly slipping them on. "Now, let's wake you up," she declares in a cocky tone, readying herself for the task at hand, driven by her scientific curiosity and her resolve to assist her brother's decisions.
Gently and with meticulous care, Shuri removed the venturi mask that had been clasped around Sage's face, revealing what had been concealed from her view. With the mask off, her eyes locked onto the nasogastric tube lodged into Sage's nostrils, running straight to her stomach. Sympathy washed over Shuri as she imagined the discomfort the procedure must have caused – both the insertion and the subsequent removal. Observing the sight, Shuri couldn't help but wince, knowing the physical unease Sage must have endured.
As Shuri's gaze shifted, she attentively watched Sage's chest rise and fall. Without the support of the ventilator, Sage's breathing continued steadily, reminding Shuri that the assisted breathing had been a precaution rather than a necessity. An oximeter secured around Sage's wrist displayed a reassuringly stable pulse rate, and her Spo2 reading was a perfect one hundred percent, signaling optimal oxygen saturation.
Swiftly, yet with careful precision, Shuri began to undo the buttons on Sage's top, revealing the expanse of her bare torso. However, as the fabric parted under Shuri's touch, a deep scowl formed on her face and her brows knitted in confusion. Frowning at what she saw, Shuri's curiosity was piqued, and a sense of urgency prompted her to seek answers.
"Griot," Shuri called out, addressing her AI lab assistant without needing to direct her gaze anywhere but at the enigma before her. "Yes, princess?" Griot's composed voice responded promptly, ready to assist. "Please notify my brother; there's something he needs to see regarding Sage," Shuri requested with an urgency in her tone, her eyes locked on the enigmatic situation before her.
"Yes, princess," Griot acknowledged, swiftly obeying her command to notify T'Challa. "Something... is definitely strange here," Shuri murmured, her mind already racing as she rolled away from Sage's side in her wheeled chair and headed toward her work station. Her fingers instinctively reached for a collection of experimental instruments, her scientific instincts taking over.
Impatient to unravel the mystery before her, Shuri couldn't afford to wait for T'Challa. This was a problem that needed solving in the present moment, and she wasn't about to let it wait. She hurriedly returned to Sage's side, clutching forceps and a collection tube, her determination palpable.
"Prince T'Challa has been notified and is on his way, princess," Griot's announcement punctuated the charged atmosphere. Shuri offered a quick nod of gratitude before resuming her focus on Sage. Peering at the enigmatic sight before her, Shuri's expression displayed a mix of bewilderment and intrigue.
Upon arriving back in Wakanda, along with Sage, T'Challa had passed a sealed envelope to Shuri. Once safely in her lab with the woman, Shuri discovered that the envelope contained crucial information about Sage's condition. It outlined that Sage had been experiencing intermittent blackouts attributed to an acute stress disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. These psychological factors had contributed to the sudden seizure during the fight. Additionally, Sage had sustained an injury to her upper right abdomen. While the wound was deep, it had been treated, and the healing process was underway.
However, the reality before Shuri contradicted the information in the envelope. An open wound lay before her, bursting through its stitches, as evidenced by a piece of string protruding from the festering area. Shuri's shock was palpable, and her curiosity drew her closer to the wound, her scientific intrigue overpowering her initial surprise.
In a dramatic turn of events, T'Challa burst into the lab, his frantic voice resonating in the air, causing Shuri to jolt in surprise. "Shuri! What's the matter?!" T'Challa's concern was evident as he hurried to her side, wasting no time. He noticed her gesturing towards the wound, and his expression contorted in confusion, quickly shifting to one of dismay as he observed the festering wound.
Shuri sighed, her eyes fixed on Sage, her thoughts focused on the puzzle before her. T'Challa's silence wasn't lost on her, and she addressed his unspoken thoughts. "When you assigned me this task, I was not expecting something like this," she admitted, her attention never leaving the peculiar wound.
However, his concern extended beyond the immediate situation. "What is that?" T'Challa's voice carried a mix of concern and analytical scrutiny as his eyes studied the festering wound. Shuri's response carried a hint of sarcasm, "I'm not sure... But, it doesn't look good." She then gestured to her glove box, prompting T'Challa to don a pair. She handed him a collection tube, instructing him to hold it as she prepared herself with goggles and forceps.
With meticulous care, Shuri approached the strange occurrence, her gloved hands delicately maneuvering the forceps. As she neared the area, she was cautious not to touch it, but her caution seemed futile. The moment the forceps came into contact with the oozing substance, a rapid reaction occurred. The strange substance seemed to react aggressively to the metal, fester rapidly, and trail up the legs of the forceps.
"Shit!" Shuri cursed, her instinctual reaction causing her to drop the instrument onto the white floor. Her eyes widened in shock as the phenomenon played out before her. Turning her gaze towards T'Challa, who was already looking at her with concern, she found comfort in his presence.
"Shuri? Are you okay? Did it touch you?" T'Challa's voice was laced with genuine worry, his concern shifting between her face and her hands. She visibly relaxed at his concern, shaking her head. "I am fine, brother. That was just unexpected, is all," she reassured him, reaching to retrieve the forceps from the floor. "There definitely wasn't anything in her file about that," she commented, her tone reflective of her perplexity. As she sighed, T'Challa's gaze turned towards Sage, his expression reflecting confusion.
"I didn't know this would happen... I'm sorry," T'Challa's apology was laden with guilt. In that moment, his earlier conversation with Okoye about Sage's potential dangers replayed in his mind. Shuri observed the somber look on T'Challa's face, an expression that conveyed his internal turmoil. The realization of his thoughts concerned her.
Acting swiftly and meticulously, Shuri retrieved the forceps from the floor, halting the spread of the strange substance. She was determined to understand this phenomenon despite its unpredictability. "There's still some of...whatever this is on the forceps... even though it fell, I'll try to get an accurate analysis," she said, mustering a reassuring smile as she made her way across the room.
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Scene Two
[Shuri's Lab]
[7:50 pm]
"Moss?" Shuri's voice reverberates with surprise as Griot relays the results of her analysis on the peculiar substance emanating from Sage's wound. "Yes, princess. It appears that moss has festered and gathered around the wounded area, rapidly growing over it," Griot's response adds a layer of perplexity to the situation. Shuri's brow furrows in confusion as she grapples with this unexpected revelation. "But why would moss grow out of her wound?" Her question hangs in the air, more of a rhetorical musing than a query directed at anyone in particular.
"It's because she's an elemental," T'Challa interjects, his attention diverted from his futile attempts to clean Sage's wound. The wound defies his efforts, growing as quickly as he can wipe it. Shuri's gaze turns towards her brother, a mixture of curiosity and confusion in her eyes. "El-e-men-tal?" she repeats, her tone marked by a note of curiosity and a hint of skepticism as she cocks a skeptical brow at her brother.
"Yes," T'Challa confirms with a nod. "I don't have an extensive understanding of it, but during her stay with me due to a fever, I encountered something similar briefly," he explains, discarding another soiled cloth into a nearby bin. Shuri's interest is piqued, her curiosity fueled by the enigmatic nature of Sage's condition. "What happened?" she inquires, eager to uncover the circumstances surrounding this phenomenon.
"Sage was under immense stress at the time, which led to her falling ill," T'Challa sighs, the memory of the night vivid in his mind. He recalls finding her weak and nearly unconscious, leaning against the hallway wall. Mention of her stress triggers a memory in Shuri, linking it to what she had read earlier. "I tried to help her, but when I touched her, her skin was burning hot, well beyond what is typical for a fever. I had no choice but to contact Stark, and that's when he told me..." T'Challa's voice trails off, a realization dawning upon him.
"What? What is it, brother?" Shuri prompts, noticing the spark of insight in his eyes. T'Challa's eyes widen as the puzzle pieces fall into place. "Stark told me that because of Sage's unique abilities, her body responds to injuries and illnesses differently from how ours would," he explains, his gaze fixated on the rapidly growing wound. "What if this is similar to what happened before? What if her body is using this moss as a way to heal the wound on its own?" He presents his hypothesis, his excitement palpable.
Shuri's eyes widen at this new perspective, her intrigue deepening. "This is becoming more fascinating by the minute," she muses to herself, her scientific curiosity ignited. She rushes to T'Challa's side, eager to share in this breakthrough. "If this theory holds true, then I need to conduct further tests," she says with urgency, her determination unwavering.
"Tests?" T'Challa echoes, his curiosity mirrored in his expression. Shuri simplifies her explanation, "Just blood tests." She's conscious of not overwhelming him with complex scientific terminology. "By collecting a blood sample, I can analyze it to confirm whether this hypothesis is valid. We need to understand how this process is working so we can aid Sage."
Shuri attempts to reassure T'Challa, emphasizing her commitment to Sage's well-being. "If you trust me on this, you won't regret it, brother," she implores, her determination evident. "Shuri, you already have my trust," T'Challa asserts, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Do whatever is necessary to help Sage," He encourages, eliciting a grateful smile from Shuri.
"Don't worry, little sister," T'Challa's reassurance continues. However, he acknowledges his own constraints. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to stay. I have a meeting with the elders that I can't postpone," he sighs, torn between his responsibilities and concern for Sage. Shuri's playful tease lightens the atmosphere, "Don't worry, brother. Your little crush is safe in my hands" She quips, a knowing expression dancing in her eyes.
T'Challa chuckles, shaking his head at her jest. "Just be safe, okay? If any issues arise, alert me immediately, and I'll return regardless of the circumstances," he tells her seriously, his protective instincts kicking in. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," Shuri assures him confidently, her determination unwavering. T'Challa bids her farewell, leaving her in the lab with Sage and her scientific inquiries.
As he departs, Shuri addresses Griot once more, seeking assistance. "Griot, I'll need some support. Please summon someone to the lab," she instructs the AI, her focus shifting back to Sage. Her curiosity is unquenchable, her mind racing with anticipation. "Now, let's unravel what mysteries my brother's girlfriend has brought to our doorstep today."
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Scene Three
[Shuri's Lab]
[9:15 pm]
And so, Shuri's dedication persisted, as she embarked on an arduous journey alongside a dedicated assembly of researchers, scientists, and physicians, all united in their quest to unravel the intricate mysteries concealed within Sage's body. With meticulous precision, Shuri orchestrated the collection of blood samples, moss specimens, and minuscule fragments of exposed flesh. The laboratory was a symphony of purposeful activity, each member contributing their expertise to the intricate puzzle before them. Hours stretched into the night, and with unyielding determination, they pressed on.
As the evening wore on, trials and experiments yielded a coveted breakthrough. The culmination of exhaustive efforts was crystallized in Shuri's realization. "So... essentially, this moss operates as a form of regenerative tool?" she pondered aloud, her voice carrying a mix of fascination and excitement, directed both at her findings and at her ever-present AI companion, Griot. His calm response confirmed her suspicion, his holographic projection displaying a detailed, high-resolution representation of Sage's side. "Indeed, princess," Griot affirmed, his virtual presence exuding knowledge. "Observe closely. The moss functions as a binding agent, endeavoring to bridge the gap in her wounded tissue and facilitate its closure. Yet, its efficacy is hampered by external interference," he continued, his explanation accompanied by the captivating visualization.
Gripped by the unfolding revelation, Shuri's gaze remained riveted to the holographic display. "By 'external interference,' you refer to the medication administered to maintain her induced state of unconsciousness?" Shuri inquired, articulating her understanding with a probing tone. Griot's concurrence manifested through subtle signals, affirming Shuri's line of reasoning. A note of frustration tinged her voice as she interfaced with her control panel, summoning CT scans and fMRI data that she had previously acquired. Her fidgeting with the interface mirrored her deep contemplation.
With adept precision, she guided their analysis. "Note how the moss's influence extends beyond the wound, distributed in small concentrations throughout her entire body," she pointed out, indicating specific locales on the hologram. "Her body is launching a defense. It recognizes this intrusion as unnatural and strives to rectify it. However, the potency of the administered medication inhibits its innate healing mechanisms. Consequently, a struggle rages within her," Shuri conveyed, her voice laden with a mix of sympathy and frustration. Her fingers deftly swiped the image of the abdomen aside, focusing on Sage's cranial fMRI results.
She elucidated the implications of their findings. "While the current cranial scan shows improvement compared to the immediate aftermath of her seizure, her brain activity remains erratic, indicating a heightened state," she deduced, her scrutiny revealing these subtle nuances. "Their attempt to alleviate the strain on her brain appears to have yielded limited success. Her body has been denied true rest since they initiated her slumber," Shuri sighed, her words heavy with exasperation and empathy for Sage's plight.
Though her knowledge of Sage was limited, Shuri's growing comprehension fueled a burgeoning sense of empathy. Her swift gestures dismissed the holograms, her stance shifting as she deliberated. "If my hypothesis holds true, it is imperative that we rouse her from unconsciousness. Prolonged unrest could exacerbate the tension between her body's healing efforts and the presence of the foreign substance," Shuri asserted confidently. Griot concurred, albeit with a note of caution. "Indeed, princess. Nevertheless, it's prudent to anticipate minor complications upon her awakening," he added, his virtual presence brimming with wisdom.
Shuri acknowledged this inherent uncertainty, recognizing that facing challenges head-on would prove more effective post-awakening. "Agreed. However, addressing those issues becomes feasible once she's fully conscious. For now, let's concentrate on expelling the foreign substance from her system," Shuri determined, her stride purposeful as she left the control panel behind. As she descended to the main floor, the lab assistants greeted her directive with meticulous action. The advanced technologies and medical practices at their disposal underscored Wakanda's unparalleled capabilities. With collective precision, they navigated the intricate task of purging the toxic medication and introducing a supplementary herb to expedite Sage's awakening. Their careful orchestration bore fruit, and the energy-boosting herb triggered a gradual reawakening.
Subsequent to this accomplishment, Shuri's expertise was channeled through her Kimoyo beads, deftly sealing Sage's wound. The hum of progress resonated through the laboratory, an embodiment of Wakandan ingenuity and the unrelenting spirit of those dedicated to healing.
As the nocturnal hours waned, Shuri found herself ensconced in solitude within the confines of her laboratory. The camaraderie of the team that had shared the pursuit of discovery had dissolved, their contributions duly acknowledged and their presence respectfully dismissed. Alone, Shuri occupied a chair positioned behind her imposing desk, her focus still riveted upon the array of specimens she had meticulously gathered from Sage's enigmatic being. The dim light cast elongated shadows across the room, creating an ambience of reverent contemplation.
In the midst of this introspective solitude, Griot's melodious voice gracefully intruded upon the tranquil air, a digital whisper that delicately disrupted the stillness. "Princess," he addressed her, a tone of gentle concern woven into his virtual intonation. Shuri's response was measured, her voice a distant echo of engagement. "Yes?" she replied, her attention momentarily diverted from the samples before her, her connection to Griot an extension of the environment rather than a conscious engagement.
His next words carried a paternal edge, a synthesized reflection of his watchful caretaker role. "Considering the lateness of the hour, might it be prudent for you to retire to your chambers and seek rest?" he inquired, his digital persona radiating genuine concern. A tired sigh escaped Shuri's lips, her posture reflecting the weight of responsibility that anchored her to the laboratory. "I cannot, Griot," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and dedication. "I must remain present when Sage awakens. The consequences of her rousing without someone here could be unpredictable."
Sensible logic resonated in Griot's reply, a suggestion steeped in practicality. "What if you were to apprise the prince of the situation? His presence could provide the necessary safeguard in your stead," he proposed, the inherent logic of involving T'Challa evident in his words. However, Shuri's response was swift and adamant, her words a testament to her resolve. "No," she interjected with decisive clarity. "T'Challa's responsibilities already weigh heavily upon him. This is the least I can do," she expressed, a tinge of stubbornness underscoring her commitment. The absence of T'Challa from the laboratory affirmed her belief that he was preoccupied elsewhere, likely addressing yet another pressing concern within the kingdom.
A fleeting sigh escaped her lips, borne from an interplay of fatigue and determination. "Furthermore," she continued, her gaze briefly veering towards the still-slumbering Sage, "there's a certain satisfaction in witnessing the fruition of my efforts firsthand." Shuri's voice, though composed, carried a note of genuine pride, an affirmation of her dedication to her craft and the transformative impact it could have on lives.
Griot, ever attuned to Shuri's complexities, concluded their exchange with a conceding note. "As you wish, princess," he replied, acknowledging her autonomy in this choice. His digital presence receded, leaving Shuri enveloped in the quietude once more. The room embraced her with its tranquil embrace, the subdued glow of screens illuminating her contemplative visage. In the realm of this sanctuary, Shuri sat resolute, her purpose transcending fatigue, and her resolve a beacon of vigilance in the solace of the night.
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Scene Four
[Shuri's Lab]
[10:55pm]
The long-awaited moment was finally unfolding, casting its spell upon Shuri in the most profound way. Across the laboratory, the faint, gruff groans that emanated from the once unresponsive figure on the examination table seemed to reverberate with a new vitality. Shuri, who had been grappling with weariness, was suddenly alert, her tired eyes locking onto the woman who was stirring. A subtle tug rattled the IV stand adjacent to the bed, connected to Sage's right arm. The sound acted like a catalyst, propelling Shuri to her feet in an instant, her gaze fixated on Sage.
In her urgency, Shuri's voice broke through the air, the inquiry directed towards the ever-present AI companion. "Griot?" she called out, her body already in motion, fueled by a mix of anticipation and concern. "Yes, princess?" Griot's response was swift, seamlessly bridging the gap between the human and the digital. "Show me Sage's brain activity," Shuri instructed, carefully navigating her way around her workstation toward the stirring woman. "On it, princess," Griot acknowledged, promptly fulfilling her request.
As though illuminated by a spotlight, the holographic display projected an undeniable surge in brain activity, painting a vivid portrait of Sage's awakening. This visual confirmation sent a rush of both excitement and trepidation coursing through Shuri's veins. The woman before her was in the midst of a reawakening, her body and mind navigating the delicate bridge between slumber and consciousness.
As if guided by a mysterious force, Sage's groans evolved into coherent murmurs. A low rumble of discomfort escaped her parched lips, her brows knitting as unfamiliar sensations coursed through her weakened body. Her left hand darted to her right arm, where the IV access was anchored, and Shuri watched with a mixture of concern and fascination. Sage's voice, hoarse from days of silence, was but a breath, carrying her initial impressions. "Strange... feels... strange," she managed to utter, her feeble hands grappling with the medical apparatus.
The sudden panic in Shuri's voice was palpable as she intervened. "No, no," she urged, her movements swift and decisive as she moved to prevent Sage from causing harm to herself. With a mixture of caution and care, she gently restrained Sage's hand, imploring her not to disrupt the medical aid. However, Sage's reaction was instinctive and involuntary, her weakened body lashing out as she slapped Shuri's hand away.
"Don't..." Sage's voice carried an unspoken protest, a sentiment underscored by the twitching of her eyelids beneath closed lids. Startled by the unexpected rebuff, Shuri found herself retreating, her gaze fixed on the unfolding scene.
In the realm between sleep and wakefulness, Sage's eyes fluttered open, struggling against the intrusion of the bright light. A gasp escaped Shuri's lips as she witnessed the woman's battle with the newfound brightness. In response to Shuri's command, Griot dimmed the lights, offering a momentary respite to the recently awakened.
As the veil of confusion lifted, Sage's gaze scanned her unfamiliar surroundings, a palpable unease settling upon her. The tremor in her voice betrayed her disoriented state as she posed a question that seemed to originate from the depths of her consciousness. "Where... is he?" Her words carried an undercurrent of longing, the inquiry a puzzle piece that held the potential to unlock the mysteries of her past.
Shuri's brow furrowed in bewilderment, grappling with the enigmatic pronoun. The mention of "he" ignited her curiosity, leaving her pondering the possible implications. Was Sage referring to a sibling, a loved one, or someone else entirely? The uncertainty knotted Shuri's thoughts, even as she acknowledged the need to inform the prince of Sage's awakening.
"Uugh..." A scoff escaped the woman's lips as the discomfort spread throughout her body like an unwelcomed visitor. She could sense it in her right arm, her forehead, her nose, and her chest. "What the hell..." Her voice held a mixture of frustration and confusion as her hand abruptly landed on her chest, fingers tugging at the leads of the ECG machinery that clung to her skin. In a swift motion, she replicated the action with the ones on her forehead, removing them forcefully and rendering them useless in tracking her brain's activity.
Shuri's concern deepened as she observed the woman's impulsive actions, sensing the turmoil that seemed to stir beneath the surface. As Sage's hand moved toward her nose, Shuri's anticipation heightened, recognizing the impending struggle. The moment Sage's groan of discomfort echoed through the room, Shuri winced in sympathy. Sage's hands moved with a combination of sluggishness and determination, as she extracted the Nasogastric tube that had been inserted all the way into her stomach through her nostril. The tube was discarded with a lackadaisical toss, accompanied by a series of haphazard coughs and weary sighs that followed her defiant act.
As if driven by a compulsion beyond reason, Sage's fingers closed around the IV access once again, this time tearing it from her arm with an unhesitant determination. The subsequent rush of blood was a jarring sight, leaving Shuri momentarily stunned by the abrupt display of agency. Disregarding the consequences, Sage attempted to rise from her prone position, only to falter and collapse to her knees. Shuri's exclamation of alarm accompanied her hurried approach, tissue in hand, to address the ensuing spillage.
However, Sage's response was a vehement rejection, her hand slapping Shuri's offer of assistance away. The woman's glare was an embodiment of cold detachment, leaving Shuri's empathy overshadowed by a sudden surge of dread. Sage's words dripped with mistrust, her dismissive attitude revealing a stark chasm between her and the princess.
Amidst this turbulent encounter, Sage's determination remained unshaken. Clumsily, she regained her feet, her figure towering over Shuri's as the princess remained knelt on the floor. The venom in her muttered utterance, the name "Micah," carried a palpable hatred, hinting at a deep-seated desire for retribution. Sage's intent was clear—vengeance, a primal need to confront the object of her rage.
As the tension swelled, Shuri found herself contemplating the unforeseen consequences of her actions. She looked up at Sage with a mixture of apprehension and hope, longing for a resolution to the brewing storm. Just as the situation threatened to spiral out of control, the universe seemed to heed Shuri's silent plea.
The resonant echoes of footsteps filled the air, racing through the halls like an urgent call. Okoye's commanding voice pierced through the tumult, echoing Shuri's own sentiments. The swift response carried a sense of assurance, as Okoye, fueled by her unyielding devotion to duty, hurled her spear with a swift and determined motion.
However, the impending collision was not left unchecked. T'Challa's urgent voice cut through the tension like a blade, a desperate cry that mirrored his inner turmoil. His dash toward the scene was a testament to his protective instincts, a race against fate to avert tragedy. Yet, as the spear hurtled forward, Sage's eyes narrowed, capturing the image of the weapon's imminent descent.
With a display of uncanny swiftness, Sage's hand intercepted the spear's trajectory, her weakened body defying the odds. The collision that should have been inevitable was thwarted, as the pointy edge of the weapon was caught in her grasp and then nonchalantly discarded. Her expression, a testament to her disdain, bore a resolute determination as she faced the intruder with unwavering defiance.
In the midst of this confrontation, T'Challa's intervention provided a reprieve. His form stood as a shield, his voice carrying a tender familiarity that managed to penetrate Sage's fractured consciousness. Her racing heartbeat steadied, her anger seemingly abating as recognition bloomed. A transformation overtook her, her demeanor shifting from hostility to a sense of calm clarity.
The atmosphere, once charged with hostility, was transformed by T'Challa's presence. Sage's lips, which had previously harbored venom, now curved into a delicate, unsteady smile. Her eyebrows arched in curiosity, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she gazed at him. The culmination of her emotions found voice in a single word, spoken with the weight of recognition and a connection that defied explanation.
"T'Challa...?"
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ꜱʜᴜʀɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴍᴠᴘ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ;)
ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ -♡