Floor 32,000,201 (Winter in July) + The Abbey Of St. Phallusine

[falsicrimen]

Winter had always been his least favorite season - traveling was at its most difficult, even on foot, and harsh conditions always meant longer missions, time wasted, and frustration galore - but Abel liked to think he’d soldiered through it admirably, in spite of all its hardships, for at least half the past decade. A freak snowstorm in the dead

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x: hope you don't mind!

[ostarofhope]

Esther Blanchett, the now frozen Queen of Albion shuddered underneath the layers of blankets she'd begged off a nun from the main abbey. Despite growing up in a rather cold region, she had never adjusted to it; and this was almost worse - a frigid cold that nipped through every attempt to block it out and attacked any vulnerable places. She'd ceased being able to feel her fingers about an hour ago, and her toes and feet were on their way next. Damn this place. Damn, damn, damn.

The former nun looked up hopefully as the door swung open, her eyes following on her escort (and former partner). Was it just her, or did he look a little bit unstable on his feet. Still she acknowledged him with a nod, far too cold to observe any more of the complicated rituals of etiquette. And of course, etiquette was the last thing she was thinking about when she saw him falter.

"A-Abel!"

She leaped out of bed, dragging the long blankets with her in an attempt to reach him before he hit the ground. Too late, down he went though thankfully she didn't think he'd hit his head. Abandoning her mostly-warm blankets in favor of kneeling on the floor, she tugged on his long arm.

"Father, really, you have to wake up. It can't be that bad," she murmured, pulling his head into her lap and doing her best to manipulate his rather large body. Damn him for being so tall! That just made things harder. Pulling the blankets she'd dropped on the floor over him, she poked him in the cheek a few times, before shivering herself. He was cold as ice.

...Maybe it was that bad.

She cast her eyes around the room, looking desperately for something to revive him. She needed him, after all; he was her bodyguard. Not that she worried for her safety, but if he was ill, she might have to return back to Albion, years of diplomatic negotiations down the drain. Of course, none of that would matter if he really was ill - but still. She had to do her best to take care of him.

Her blue eyes fell on the tub and then moved back to him. Could she do it? Maybe with some pushing and pulling ... ah, a bath it was! Pressing her warm hands to his cheeks for a moment, she tucked him in (on the floor), pulling both blankets up to his nose.

"I'll be right back. Just try and keep warm."