After Blodwen Round II

[makesthings]

Sameth is lying on a bed in the infirmary, wreathed in poison and trying and trying to get back to consciousness.

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[walksindeath]

It's a remarkably short time before the door flies open on a tall woman dressed in blue, who glances about before striding towards Sameth's bed.

(There are, for the record, a number of slightly bemused patrons in her wake who had not expected to be intensely questioned about bright lights and young men in peril. Surely those things are entirely commonplace?)

Sabriel's face is set and paler than usual, but her extends a hand to touch his forehead, and it remains steady as the Mark on her forehead glows, growing steadily brighter.

[makesthings]

In his dreams, the necromancer and Blowden share a face and Death's river smells of flowers.

When he feels/sees the Charter Marks, he just tries to find his way towards them and bumps his broken wrist against the bed.

[walksindeath]

She reaches out to still his arm, holding it carefully away from the break.

The Charter flowing through his Mark is uncorrupted, thankfully. Sabriel hums a low, clear note under her breath to help call it forward, and lifts the hand that had been on his forehead to start tracing healing marks. They hang in the air exuding a faint light, and almost resonate with the note she sings.

She feels aware she should probably be in tears.

But then, she always was good at pushing emotion away until there is time to deal with it.

[makesthings]

The corruption of the poison tries to fight her but Sameth tries to help as he struggles in his mind to not fall again.

He's vaguely aware of a hand on him that doesn't burn and stills slightly as his body begins to heal

[walksindeath]

Sabriel frowns to herself, and draws a slow breath to start on another note, altering the aim of the healing to add purifying marks that slide in between the others as she draws them.

Whatever is wrong with him is... different.

And yet, also all too familiar.

[makesthings]

Ever so slowly, the poison begins to thin though it takes its time for he might have been bathing in it with how deep its found its way through him.

As it gradually gives up its hold on him, he finds his way towards thought and the world beyond his nightmares.

He keeps reaching towards her voice and finally his eyes open though they're blurred with pain as he tries to speak and help her.

[walksindeath]

Sabriel reaches the end of another note, sagging slightly from not enough air and the exhaustion of channelling the Charter at full strength through Sameth.

Healing was never her strongest point.

She reaches down again to touch his forehead, gentle and reassuring, and keeps the Marks holding as strong as she can.

[makesthings]

He didn't want to make her so tired but its still hard to talk so gently squeezes her wrist with his good hand.

Its the best he can do for asking her to stop, rest, he'll be fine.

[walksindeath]

Even if he could speak to tell her, it wouldn't make much difference.

The pressure of his hand loosens some of the tension in her chest, but she continues, searching for the right way to combat the remaining poison in his body.

[makesthings]

So he watches the Marks and since he's not sure of the best way to help her, focuses on some of the same Marks in his head.

Slowly but surely, the rest of the poison finally leaves his body and he ends up holding her wrist slightly tightly from the pain.

[walksindeath]

The flow eases as Sabriel gradually stops shaping them so often, and lets the flow of the Charter drain away slowly.

She eases herself into a chair next to Sameth's bed, drained but relieved.

[makesthings]

He doesn't let go of her wrist and opens his mouth but his throat hurts so just mouths,

"I'm sorry."

[walksindeath]

"Shhh," Sabriel says automatically.

She hesitates, then reaches out awkwardly to stroke his hair a little.

"You're going to be all right."

[makesthings]

That just makes him sag back onto the bed because he knows it won't, there's so much that he can't do that he needs to do and this just proves it.

[walksindeath]

She strokes his hair back from his forehead again, touch a little more sure as she sits, getting her breath back.

"It's all right," she whispers again.

[makesthings]

He's so tired and feeling like such a fool that he almost feels like crying but he has to be strong.

So he leans towards her on his good side and croaks out,

"Just trying to be as brave as you."