Lys: Frail

Aithne winced and swallowed, shrugging away from the arm that seemed so overly warm. It felt like a furnace in her belly. She was beyond water at this point. Blast! She hated that it so easily came to this.

With a slight shake of her head, she stood as quickly as she could manage. "No... just..." and moved swiftly to the door.


She did make it, but only just. Off the path and into the poor plants nearby. With it came the release of the heat- she was no longer freezing everywhere else. Perspiration made her hair stick to her forehead, but it was almost over.


Cathair came up the path in time to see her distress. For one awful moment the word poison entered his mind, then he moved into action, kneeling by her side. She was on her hands and knees, and he had no clue what to do other than try and pull her hair back. But she pushed him away. Puzzled, he sat back on his heels, trying to figure out how to help her, what he could do.

But it was only a moment before she was through, sitting back weakly on her own heels, spitting the filth out of her mouth.

"Are you well?"

She nodded. "Now, yes. ...Bad memories."

He just nodded back. There was more to it- there had to be. But she looked somewhat frail at the moment and he was afraid of pressing her.