R E A G A N

[Reagan]

now don’t you understand…that I’m never changing who I am?

Her heart—or was it his?—leapt at the thought that he would come find her. Reagan’s vision was still continually returning, and her coordination was slowly becoming what it was. But she found that she was not the same. The concept of living forever seems great until you realize that you no longer have that ability—and then it scares you to death.
 
Reagan’s attitude was thus, and she continued to pray in her head, her ears constantly pivoting for signs of familiar life, leading her through the senses of smell and hearing, as her vision was currently failing her.
 
All of a sudden, her name, close and intimate, followed by the touch of a male she found her body—her heart—craved. And she lost all coordination. She leaned on him and allowed his body to hold her weight, clutching at the one sense of familiarity in this new apocalypse. “Ruan…” she gasped, her chest heaving with the simultaneous thudding of both his and her hearts clamoring in her chest. “I thought you left me…” her voice was high pitched, squeaky, like the sound of a lost and frightened little girl. Of course, the slight sense of madness drove her on, and was currently all she was able to do to be able to cope with her loss of magical abilities. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore…”