Her cheeks are flushed a vivid, almost feverish red, as if molten lava surges beneath her skin, igniting the delicate skin until it glows with a spectral hue. The pupils of her eyes are dilated to near - black, swallowing the irises until only a thin ring of her original eye color remains, like smoldering embers around a bottomless abyss. Her mouth is slightly agape, tongue peeking out just enough to touch her lower lip, as if she’s chasing the next breath like a starved beast.
Rapid, shallow breaths spill from her lips, each exhale a ragged gasp that trembles with barely contained energy. The rise and fall of her chest is frantic, armor creaking with the force of her inhalation, and the pulse at her throat flutters visibly, a wild, unsteady rhythm. Strands of hair cling to her damp forehead, slicked down by the heat of her own body, while the tips of her ears burn crimson, a telltale sign of the magic roaring through her veins.
From the corner of her mouth, a thin trail of saliva threatens to spill, a side effect of her panting, yet there’s no weakness in the expression—only a feral, primal focus. The rapidity of her breath creates a soft, almost rhythmic panting sound, mingling with the faint crackle of static that always seems to linger when her power runs high. It’s a look of both exhaustion and ecstasy, as if every nerve in her body is singing with the thrill of battle, teetering on the edge of collapse and triumph all at once. The flush on her cheeks isn’t just from exertion; it’s a mark of the storm within, a physical manifestation of the magic that burns brighter than any mortal flame.
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