RP:An Unexpected Hex
Summary: Talyara comes across a ring, which she believes is a gift from her lover, Ayras. She wears the ring proudly, but in doing so, doesn't realize that a viscious hex has been placed upon it. Linn, Krice, and Lanara, come to the aid of the witch, and the hex is reversed back to the user. Talyara suffers grave wounds, which her sister, Lanara, has to use blood magic to mend.
Ayras wrapped his arms around Talyara and just held her. Her jest, those words spoken in such a rough voice, had him sob out a laugh. "Because I'm a monster," he told the woman softly as he buried his face in her hair, "and the gods hate monsters." He looked up, looked toward the door. He hoped Linn returned with someone that could properly treat Talyara soon. He didn't dare look at the blood that was soaking through the strips of cloth he had wrapped around Talyara's stomach. He couldn't look as it kept staining his arms and hands.
Lanara enters the tavern and lowers the hood from her head, shaking any meddlesome snowflakes from her long locks, as she hangs her fur-lined parka on the peg. She wasn’t here for a drink, to connect with friends, or to even rent a room. No, she was here on a dire mission. She was riding on a polar bear’s back throughout the Frostmaw village, relishing in the brisk air, when her rune tattoo had begun to hum and burn her wrist, like never before. She sensed danger and knew that her sister was in distress. And here she was, all 5’6” of slender muscle, prepared for whatever she would hope not to find. Turning her head to the side, she nearly faints, as the first thing she sees is Ayras, bent over her beloved sister, and blood pouring out of her stomach. “Tally! What happened?!” Choking back a sob, the witch races over to the pair and collapses at her siblings side.
Talyara allows her lead to lob against Ayras' chest as she continues to speak in that fading, raspy voice. "You are not a monster to me..." A yell from across the tavern diverts her attention as she breathes a deep sigh of relief upon seeing her beautiful sister before her. "Lana..." She reaches a bloodied hand towards her sister as she approaches. "Your sister has gotten into some trouble again, although I'm not sure what happened really..."
Linn | The door was still barely open from Lanara’s entrance as Linn comes skidding around the corner and in to the tavern with the town shaman Eleenin in tow. Given the time he made it back implies that he made it through the streets of Frostmaw much faster than running should allow. A pathway cleared for the two as they approached the cluster around Talyara, now with a couple more people. He spoke with a haste to his words. “She just doubled over in pain; it was some kind of magical attack that wounded her, though it seems the actual wounds are physical.” He seemed to collapse in to a focus again; intent on keeping whatever assailant there was from returning in an invisible form. Placing his hand on the gem in the pommel of his blade the blue field came to life, fluttering through the space around him, prepared to intercept any further blows made.
Ayras squeezed Talyara lightly. Of course she didn't think he was a monster. She saw the good in everyone, for some reason. She didn't see in him what he saw there, the blackness that was his soul, the corruption buried deep in him by the drow, by what he was. Soon enough he, too, heard the call from the witch's sister, and he looked up to regard the woman. Trouble, Talyara told her. The vampire sighed and shook his head. "She gives you the simple answer. True, we don't know what's going on, exactly, but she was speaking to that red-haired whore before her stomach just began to slice open. I've bandaged the wounds, but that's all I can do. I'm not a healer."
Lanara gently brushes her fingertips across Talyara’s forehead, looking intently into her emerald eyes, and sighing faintly. “Alright, Miss Mischief! We need to get you all patched up, don’t we? I need you to stay awake, sister. Okay? Stay with me… Keep those beautiful eyes glued on my face, alright? Don’t you fall asleep…” Casting a brief worried glance at Linn and Ayras, she barks instructions at Drargon, while she dabs at the elf’s forehead with a damp rag, and hums a lullaby, from their childhood. Eleenin is regarded with a scowl and a glare, and the realm wide healer silently excused herself from the establishment, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to combat a magical injury. “Ah… The red haired whore? I had the misfortune of meeting her the other evening… “As Drargon returns with clean towels, a bowl of water, and a sprig of eucalyptus, the witch meets her sister’s gaze again. “Stay with me, my Tally… Something’s wrong. You were hexed. I can smell it on you, and I felt it as soon as I touched your skin. I didn’t know there was another in the land that was capable of a hex, aside from us…” Sighing, the witch points to Linn, who was all but a stranger to her. “You. Clean the wounds. I need you to pour water over the wounds, removing them of any debris, and then hold the towels on the wounds, apply pressure. It will hurt and she may fight you, but I care not, we have to delay the bleeding, for now. I can’t mend her, until the hex is recognized, fully. And you!” Now her pointer finger is aimed at Ayras. “You are to hold my sister down, while he cleans her wounds. Make sure she stays awake.” Not wanting for a response from either male, she leans in and places the eucalyptus leaf on Talyara’s tongue, forcing the woman’s mouth closed. “I know it tastes awful, but this will fight the urge to vomit, from the blood loss and pressing on the wounds.” That done, she sits back in her knee’s and waits for the two men to adjust their positions.
Talyara had forgotten how bossy her sister got when she was in healer mode. She assumed it was doubly worse because of their sisterly bond. Talyara is about to protest as a sprig of eucalyptus is shoved in her mouth and then forced closed. She knew Lanara knew best so she decided to comply the best she could, hoping that she would hurt no one when she began to thrash about.
Linn, hearing the order addressed to him, turns back to the healing that must be done. Grabbing the bowl of water he begins to pour small amounts over the wounds as his off-hand begins to motion over it. The water swirled and flowed over each wound repeatedly before being discarded as red and dirty. Quickly all traces of dirt had been washed away from the wounds along with the mess of blood. He began motioning towards the towels for a split second before stopping. “This can apply pressure much better.” The blue veil came down from behind his head as he began to manipulate the crystal stuck his sword. It opened to cover the wounds before pressing down on them. Compared to the last time something like this was attempted, the veil of force had an uncanny softness to it as it formed around her in spite of the amount of force it applied, forcing the split flesh to hold together and keeping it from bleeding. “I can keep the wounds together, but they will open again the moment I remove the field.”
Ayras : Whereas Linn was going about tending the wounds upon Talyara's stomach, cleaning and preparing them for whatever Lanara had in mind, Ayras was bid to hold the woman down. It was fitting, perhaps, that he, with his vampiricly amplified strength, was given that task. He slid around the chair, got himself into a position where he could press down on her upper chest and a spot between her hips. Until she started thrashing, the pressure applied was feather-light, barely a wisp against her body. But the moment she would start thrashing - and if Lanara was to be believed, she would thrash - he was ready to press down, to use the strength that benefited his swordsmanship to instead benefit Lanara's healing. Lanara watches as the two men assume their positions and perform their designated tasks, the woman nodding in brief approval. She didn’t mean to snap at the others, but time was of the essence and her sister’s life was at stake, so it was alright for her to unleash her inner bitch. Rising to her feet, she dips the edge of a sage stick into the hearth and blows on the edge, watching as the smoke begins to rise from the bundle, as she wafts the smoke all around her body, cleansing herself. Then, she moves to her sister and the men, and circles them three times, clockwise, in an effort to purify them, and the surrounding air. Speaking in a soft tone, she repeats the chant thrice, “Rid this circle of negativity, fill it with positivity. I cleanse the surrounding area, and make it pure. So mote it be!” Once the area was cleansed, the witch lowers the sage stick and snuffs out the fire, watching her sister closely. The sight of her sibling in pain was almost more than she could bear, though she tries to maintain a positive outlook, not wanting her sister to worry any more than she already was. Plucking her athame from her hip holster, she nips her lower lip as she dips the edge of the dagger into her open palm, and lets her blood drip onto Talyara’s forehead. Once three large droplets are resting on her sibling’s forehead, the witch holds both hands above the injured body of her sister, and begins to cast an unveiling spell, hoping to discover the hex that was used. “Show me the hex that ails this one. Show me the object, so it can be undone. Let no further harm come to thee, instead go to the caster, and deliver karma times three!!!” Lana’s words were a mere hiss, as her eyes roll back slightly in her head, the whites solely visible, as the lanterns in the tavern dim, momentarily. And then, all is as once before… Though, Talyara’s ring finger has an eerie silver glow to it, and Lanara’s eye become fixated on the ring. “There! Tally… Remove the ring, and know that the origin of this hex, will receive your suffering, threefold. That is how we will know who the perpetrator is, as they will bear six slash marks on their body….”
Talyara allows a groan to escape her lips as Linn begins to cleanse her wounds. The pain of that, however, was nothing compared to the pressure that was applied. The witch cried out, albeit muffled from the herb in her mouth, as tears began to roll down her cheeks. She knew it was necessary work but it didn’t stop the unconscious thrashing. Talyara watches as her sister purifies the area and then performs a revealing charm. The witch glances down at her hand as the ring begins to glow and she offers a horrified look at the vampire, attempting to free herself from his arms. More tears begin to fall down her cheeks. How could this be true? How could this man who claimed to love her give her a hexed ring? Tally immediately begins to tug on the ring upon her finger; unfortunately for her, it seems that the ring only grows smaller on her petite digit as it remains in place. “It won’t come off, it’s stuck,” she mumbles, the sprig in her mouth.
Linn |As the ring glows, Linn stares in to the space in front of him for a second. The field held over Talyara bright in his vision. The ring seemed to be in tumult, magic attempting to pull in and out of it, black and white swirling through each other in conflict. The surest way to shatter an enchantment was to destroy the physical object anchoring it. Grabbing the towels he puts them over the blue field that kept her wounds sealed and pressed down on them before the field flowed out from underneath. An intense focus crossed his face as the field seemed to shrink and brighten, compressing itself in to a scalpel-like blade, barely visible to any looking straight down the cutting edge. He motioned to Ayras to hold her hand down, specifically the finger bearing the ring. The point of the blade so close to Talyara’s skin that the gap was nigh invisible. It advanced towards the ring deliberately, taking care to avoid cutting anything but its target. If no one interfered, the blade would slice straight through the metal holding the ring together on her finger.
Ayras watched as that ring began to glow. He knew he hadn't seen it before. He wondered where she had gotten it. He wondered...why was she giving him such an odd look? Why did she look like she finally believed he was the monster he claimed to be? He couldn't think about that. Soon enough Linn was making that scalpel, was telling him to hold Tally's hand still. He did as best he could; it was awkward, trying to keep the woman from wriggling free while holding her hand in one place. Once he had her hand in his, however, he sent his confused look back to Talyara's face. He still couldn't explain the horror she had shown him when she looked at him.
Lanara watches as the ring snaps in two from the pressure of the scalpel, and quickly tosses the two halves of the ring far from her sister. Leaning over Talyara, she nudges Linn aside and surveys the slash marks on the woman’s abdomen. Two slash marks in a perfect ‘X’ incision, and the wounds were quite deep. Having a moment of uncertainty, the witch decides on the best plan of action and with her palm still bleeding, she shoves her hands into her sisters open wound, knowing that it would be incredibly painful, but incredibly necessary, as well. “I’m so sorry, Tally…” The witch gasps, panting heavily, as she relies on forbidden blood magic to aide her sister in recovery. Too much blood was lost to rely on stitches, or mere magic, and so the witch had no option but to resort to such a taboo form of healing. Still, it pained her, both physically and mentally, as her energy was drained and forced into the form of the petite elf beneath her somewhat larger frame. Pain surges through Lana’s body as she feels her legs growing weak, and she is practically lying on top of Talyara, their lips mere inches apart, as she removes her hand from the wound, which was slowly beginning to close. That done, she would allow one of the others to stitch any small remnants that remained, while chocolate gazed into green, until Lanara faints. She could rest now, as long as her sister was safe.
Talyara was in complete panic mode now. Ayras was pinning her down holding her hand as Linn advanced on her with a scalpel type object. The witch began to thrash uncontrollably now, looking at her sister pleadingly tears streaming down her cheeks. She gave her sister a look that said, “Please! Don’t let them do this!” A ring left by Ayras was hexed. Linn, who at one point tried to kill her. No, she only wanted Lanara to be the one to help her get the ring off. Tally lets out a most pathetic sob, “Please, Lana…” But it was too late and the ring is snapped in half and tossed aside. With that done, Lana surveys her wounds and looks down into her sister apologizing, raising her bloodied hand. Talyara knew what that meant and began to sob again for she knew the pain she was about to feel. As soon as contact is made, Tally lets out the most horrifying scream, the pain was several times worse than the original injury. Eventually she opens her emerald eyes, meeting her sister’s chocolate gaze, and gasps as Lana collapses in a faint.
Linn watched the ring snapped, the field pulling back the moment it was removed. He appeared almost hypnotized as he saw ring’s power collapse in to itself as Lanara’s spell took place, reversing its hex. He was frozen in thought before being pushed out of the way. He barely had time to get back before one of the most blood-curdling screams he ever heard echoed through the tavern, though with it, the wounds closed for good and would stay that way. He scrambled over to grab a notebook to trace the faint outline of some arcane pattern before looking at the current situation again. He sighed. “That hex… A very malign enchantment. At least it won’t harm anyone else for now.” He got up and walked over to the remains of the ring, picking it up in to the blue field that still followed him before placing it on a table, deciding what to do with it next.
Krice hated that sound, a blood-curdling scream that told of pure, unbridled pain. As he shoved the tavern door open and stepped inside, the warrior's gold-streaked gaze was already scanning the faces of those gathered for the origin. Talyara... He had entered the scene right as the sister witch collapsed over her sibling, and though his instinct was to assist, he could see that others were already doing so. Halting only a few steps away, the warrior looked on from a distance, his gaze drifting from Lanara and Talyara to the ring on the floor - until the vaguely familiar Linn gathered its remnants. He waited, attentive for the moment where he might have needed to assist the group.
Lanara remains unconscious, even though the scream was enough to wake her from the deepest of slumber. The elf was incredibly weak, and it showed, as her skin was pale and she was somewhat chilled upon touch. Remaining oblivious to Linn’s retrieval of the ring, or of Krice’s entrance, she doesn’t even stir in the slightest as Ayras moves to gather Talyara in his arms, and her body is slid to the side. A soft ‘thud’ is heard as the back of her head bangs against the tavern floor, which causes a faint grimace on her face, as she fights to open her eyes. A slight ray of light enters her pupils, and she immediately closes her eyes again, and rolls onto her side, once more losing consciousness.
Talyara feels Ayras slide under her, gathering her in her arms. Talyara attempts to break free, still believing he is the source of the hex. “No…” she whispers softly. Her only form of opposition as her body is weakened from the pain, from the screaming, from the crying. She attempts to move to go to her sister but she finds despite the willingness of her mind, she cannot move. Her own long eyelashes flutter closed, hiding those dim, emerald eyes. The witch simply lies there, slipping in and out of consciousness.
Linn gets up and checks on the evolving situation, both Talyara and Lanara passed out, he just avoids the growing cluster. He grabs his notebook again before going back to the ring on the table, continuing his drawing of the pattern he began. Lines flowed in to a single point from all around it, leading to some point that somehow acted as a drain to a flow from all directions. Piercing the center ever so slightly he picked the paper up, pierced another point from the other side and drew similar lines flowing out from it. At first glance they seemed to have no direction, though somehow there was a definite point flowing in, and one out. The faintest trace of a connection was drawn between the two points. Whatever the drawing was supposed to be; only he knew what meaning it truly had. He turned around to finally notice Krice entering the scene, faintly recognizing him from the gates outside the fort. He got up from the chair before announcing “Now… do we have any reason to keep this ring in existence?”
Krice’s pupils narrowed as the raw stench of fresh-spilled blood filled his olfactory, and he directed his stare down at Lanara's saturated hands before lifting it higher, to the source of the blood: Talyara's healing abdomen. Right eye narrowing, the warrior unwittingly portrayed his displeasure at the situation before Linn's announcement drew his attention. As he stepped toward Lanara, previously left on the floor, the warrior regarded those broken pieces of the ring, and then Linn's notebook, and then Linn himself before stating, " If you've gleaned all information from it, I'd say go ahead and destroy it." Crouching beside the unconscious witch, Krice lifted a hand and hovered it over her right shoulder, leaning forward to scrutinize her condition first. "Seems like it caused some trouble," he murmured in conclusion.
Lanara moans softly, as her head falls to the side and her arm falls as soon as Krice hovers her appendage from above. She was weak, and drifting in and out of consciousness, though she didn’t exactly need a healer. After what seems like an eternity, Lana’s long lashes flutter against her high cheekbones, and she opens her eyes, half way, and squints at Krice. If she’s shocked to see the warrior, it doesn’t show, as she’s having difficulty focusing on his form. Blood magic takes a toll on a witch, especially a witch that had recently recovered from an almost fatal injury. And this was her second use of blood magic, within three days, so it would be a while until the empath was up on her feet again. “Rest. Food. Hugs.” She eventually breathes out, as though it were a recipe for treatment, before she loses consciousness, once more.
Linn draws his blade, pointing it straight in the air so that the crystal aimed right down on to the jasper stone in the ring. He walked around the perimeter, the blue field projected from the hilt dragging the ring with him over a nail in a post of the table to serve as his anvil before gathering back around the gem to be the hammer. He reared the blade up in to the air and brought the pommel crashing down on the jasper of the ring. With a loud crack it shattered in every direction before the fragments caught themselves close to the site of the impact, forming a ring of red dust around the broken metal fragments. The blue field then surrounded the metal before collapsing, the remnants of the ring glowing brightly as they are compressed in to a tiny sphere. Looking over the final remains he ensured no magic remained. The destruction was thorough. “And that thing will bother us no longer…” He placed the remains of the ring in one of his pouches to be reused later.
Krice’s eyes narrowed as Lanara stirred, though not enough to give him any feedback on her condition. Content that he had confirmed her safe to move, he slid his left arm under her shoulders, his right one under her knees, and rose to his full height in one fluid motion. He bore her slight weight without evident strain and glanced toward Talyara and Ayras. It was the latter on whom the warrior focused more consistently, perhaps to deduce whether or not there was credence to Talyara's paranoia that her would-be beau was the culprit. The sound of metal collapsing beneath impact ensnared the silver-haired man's attention shortly after and he tilted his head, regarding Linn in time to see his profession that the magical item was no longer an issue. After a final, quizzical - but not accusatory - glance sent across Ayras' face, Krice turned from the group and walked briskly to the door, using the back of his right shoulder to nudge it open before pivoting out into the cold air beyond.
Lanara doesn’t stir as she’s gently lifted into Krice’s arms and held against his form, her head lolling to the side and resting against his bicep as he moves across the tavern and exits the establishment.
Ayras had his eyes solely on Talyara the whole time. He had let the others talk, had let them discuss that accursed ring. He didn't care about that anymore. It was off her finger, couldn't harm her anymore. He was still confused by the look of abject horror that the witch had given him, the terror that overcame her before she slipped into unconsciousness. Much as Krice was carrying Lanara, Ayras got up from the chair he had been in with Talyara, cradled her in his arms. He said naught a word as he made for the stairs, took her to the room they had shared the night before. He knew the witch needed rest now, knew she needed to be away from crowded space. He still remembered what it was like to be mortal, somewhere in the back of his mind, after all. And so she was laid on the bed, the now-torn blanket draped over her so she could be warm. For the time, he would let her sleep alone. He went back downstairs, regarded Linn, the sole remainder of the group that had gathered around his witch. The vampire seemed exhausted, saddened, even. "I will kill that woman," he declared, speaking of the red-headed witch. The tone of his voice brokered no argument.
Linn places the book in his pack before sitting back down, head tilted upwards in the chair before releasing another sigh. “I can’t say I blame you. She knew the hex was going to strike. Whether she was the one who made the ring or simply knew its magic I don’t know, but those sorts of enchantments are rare… and she certainly knew what was going to happen.” He looked back to the crystal in his blade before pointing it towards Ayras. “You still willing to use some of your magic to help me get this thing out from that other night? Just need to melt the hilt a bit again.”
Krice stepped out of the tavern, down the roadway, and west toward the more snow-covered terrain that would ultimately guide him to the clinic. Once clear of crowds and man-made obstacles, he broke into a smooth, swift sprint, holding Lanara securely against his toned torso. If she had any moments of lucidity, she'd feel the cold wind sliding through her hair like calming fingers, caressing her skin, telling of movement, a strong, silver-haired guardian who carried her to the safety of healers, whose unyielding warmth had protected her from Frostmaw's chill.
Lanara slowly opens her eyes and peers up at Krice, with those big brown doe eyes widening in confusion. The cold wind, the movement, and the snowflakes that continuously fell upon her brow, mixed with the inability to lift her head, tiredness, and the feeling of his arms holding her tight, had her head spinning. Where was he taking her? Why? She had no sense of direction, and she was eerily calm, even though he was running through the slick terrain with her in his arms. She knew she wasn’t well, and gathering all the strength she could, she forms one sentence. “Please. Not the clinic. I hate it there…”
Krice slowed when he heard Lanara's voice, even though cold winds tried to deafen him. Upon registering her plea, he halted gently so as not to jostle the ailing woman and gazed down at her, his snow-capped crown tilted to align crimson eyes with chestnut ones. “I don't know what's wrong with you," he murmured in reply. “Healers can help."
Lanara gazes sadly into Krice’s beautiful blood-red eyes, her lip quivering, though it wasn’t from the cold. “Please…” She pleads, her voice growing weaker and her skin paling as white as the newly fallen snow. “I’m weak. I used blood magic. Too much. Too soon. I just need a night or two to recover and something to eat. I don’t feel safe, and I’m too weak to defend myself. But I hate the clinic, I would rather a bed go to someone near death… Plus, those from the explosion are being held there. Can’t I stay with you? I can pay you for food and for sharing the bed with you…” Lana’s voice trails off as she nearly loses complete consciousness again, though she fights to stay awake, and hear his response.
Krice heard Lanara's pleas in earnest, giving her an opportunity to explain to him why the clinic wasn't so great an idea. Upon hearing her reasoning, he seemed likely to agree - until she requested not only to stay with him, but to -share- a bed? The warrior's reaction to this was minimal, for her boldness could have been a result of her lethargy-produce delirium. Rather than continue onward to the clinic, the warrior turned to move back the way they had come, his steps brisk but still smooth. “I’ll return you to the tavern. You can lie with your sister."
Lanara sighs weakly and nips her lower lip. “But there is danger there… And she’s bedding with Ayras, now. I have nowhere to go, and I’m far too weak to travel to Gualon. That’s the only other place that I’m welcome to stay. And Emilia and Xersom are away from the lands, so what if I were to be attacked? Krice… I’m not a bad elf. I can even take the floor. It’s not out of desire. I’m honestly scared to be alone or in the Frostmaw Tavern or clinic…” Her words trail off, as she felt him turn back the way they had come, and she sleepily snaps her eyes back into focus. “Just drop me off wherever, I understand…”
Krice slowed but did not halt, compelled to do so by Lanara's continued pleas. He couldn't take her back to the clinic, despite that it was probably the -safest- place for her to be, surrounded by healers as such, and he couldn't take her back to the tavern because she was scared and Talyara was 'occupied anyway'. The warrior pressed his lips together as he considered the available options left to him - of which there were so few. "I'll put you to rest in your -own- room in the tavern, then. Ayras -and- I will be nearby to make sure that no one attacks anyone else."
Lanara weakly rest her head against Krice’s bicep again, meeting his gaze, and frowning. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a burden, Krice… I would do the same for you, if you were in this sort of position. But you’re always so brave and strong… I can’t imagine you ever needing my help.” With a sniffle, she lowers her gaze, and stares at nothing, falling silent. Though after a few seconds, a few tears would trickle down her pale cheeks, as she groans softly and eventually, falls back to sleep.
Krice allowed himself a small, wistful frown following Lanara's apology. He hadn't intended to make her feel like a burden. He was silent following her words and, once she had fallen asleep again, he jogged the rest of the way to the tavern, slowing to a brisk walk - to get her out of the cold as soon as possible - once they arrived at his destination. Krice shouldered open the tavern door once more and returned with an unconscious Lanara in his arms - both he and the witch half-dampened by fresh snowfall. As he ventured deeper into the room, the warmth from the fireplace began to melt that fragmented snow. He came up by the bar, requested a key for a vacant room from Drargon, and then ascended the stairs to the floor above.
Lanara regains consciousness, again, and attempts to raise her head, and finds that she’s unable to, as her vision is blurry and her head feels as though it weighs more than her entire body. Shifting her gaze to Krice, she hears the clink of a key entering the doorknob and catches a glimpse of the room that he rented for the night, out of the corner of her eye. She opens her mouth, as though she was going to ask him to stay with her, and argue her case again, but instead, she closes her mouth and sets her jaw, keeping silent.
Krice used his right hand, out from under Lanara's knees, to unlock and open the door to the room he had rented - for which he would pay once his hands were free. After stepping across the threshold, the warrior nudged the door closed behind him with his right foot, allowing the witch privacy. Upon arriving by the bedside, he leaned over to settle her upon the mattress, gently aligning her head with the pillows. Once he had placed her down, the silver-haired man withdrew to gauge her consciousness and, once sure that she was coherent enough to understand him, he asked, "Do you need water or something?"
Lanara clings to the blanket beneath her and settles her head comfortably upon the pillow, grateful for the comfort that the room offered her, much better than the sterile clinic. A hint of a faint smile is given to Krice, as she nods in response, though it was obvious that she was about to lose consciousness again. "Thank you, my hero. You are always so good to me... And would you mind staying near my door? I'm scared that I will be the next target. I know it wasn't Ayras. He wouldn't hurt my sister... And water would be great...” Lana's voice trails off, and when Krice returned from retrieving her water, he would find the young witch sound asleep.