the waking from a weary night of fevers unto truth and light

[aimedforthemoon]

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[mechanicalswans]

There is a rustling sound from outside the door, and then after a moment a faint knock.

Then Mireille slowly pushes the door the rest of the way open and peeks into the room, silent as ever, but with the usual placid smile replaced by a look of concern.

[aimedforthemoon]

Esfir startles, head snapping around to the door with her fingers already starting to do up her buttons.

Mireille.

"Good morning," she says.

Or tries to - the words catch in her parched throat.

[mechanicalswans]

She studies her, for lack of the ability to do much else. She hasn't got the words to ask the things she would like to ask, so all she can do is shape her expression into a vague question and hope answers will be provided.

[aimedforthemoon]

She has questions of her own, but not the voice. So she makes a quick face, gesturing to her throat.

"Water?" She manages.