[open] a little truth arrives in the dying of each day

[eolasemah]

WHO: Sina and you
WHAT: here we go
WHEN: mid-Harvestmere
WHERE: Hightown and then the Gallows
NOTES: All Sina logs from this point onward will involve discussions/dealing with death and illness, so if you're sensitive about those topics I recommend passing these by.

I. Just outside the Forest Garden [single thread please, 1-3 people max]

Sina still looks like Sina, but if Thedas had photographs, and the ability to compare a person's image of two years ago to their image today, only then would it become achingly clear how much mass she's lost. As the weather grows chill, she has to bundle up more and more just to go to work in her gardens, and even then is constantly cold. But she's been all right, all things considered; she's still upright, at least.

Until she isn't. Having felt a little strange since they found the elf children in the warehouse, Sina has chalked it up to the usual business and the gut-wrenching trauma of what they found. Her chest has felt a little heavier, her step a little slower, her hands a little colder, nothing worth calling a healer about until today: she's nearly down the stairs of the former Chantry when she abruptly loses consciousness.

Crumpling like a doll, Sina scrapes her leg on the last few steps and collapses to the ground, basket of herbs on its side, its contents splayed everywhere. She wakes up at once, but with bleary confusion, disoriented and burning with fever.


II. The Infirmary [ota]

Those who spent any significant time with the rescued elven children may also have caught what ails Sina now, but with a body already so ravaged by weakness, fighting it is clearly difficult for her. She's asleep most of the time, coughing when she's awake, and unable to keep food down.
It's not the first time she's been in this position, but it may be the last.

Comments

[gatheringstorm]

Korrin pauses and gestures with her head. "In my backpack, take out a frostrock and a cloth to wrap it up in. Don't worry, it'll be easy to find." Ah, the wonders of a magical backpack that can hold far more than it should, and where everything sought is always at the top. "Press it against her skin, see if that helps cool her down."

[wheretheferngrows]

"A frostrock?" Baffled, Fern nevertheless tries to comply while trotting along at Korrin's heels. She has to hop a few times to accomplish the task, but much to her relief, the rock is indeed right where Korrin said it would be. --Holy buckets, it's cold tho.

She quickly wraps it in the cloth and, as instructed, hurries to press the cool fabric against Sina's cheek.

[writteninblood]

His first instinct, petty as it is, is to snatch the thing out of Fern's hand, to claim the right to-- to do what, then? Sense reasserts itself quickly, and Simply focuses then on keeping pace, and on answering the queries of those who are preparing the way ahead.

And he watches, wary with a skittish anxiety at the open mouths of each alleyway and stoop they pass on the way. Kirkwall is a dense forest of its own, and there are no shortage of wolves. Perhaps that much is unnecessary. But then, perhaps he is enough in a panic to simply set fire to any perceived threat, on the strength of nerves alone.

What would happen to Sina? She'd been growing steadily weaker over time, in a way that was both alarming and yet unnoticeable, in the way that children you did not see for a time were suddenly and inexplicably taller. And yet, it was never inexplicable; but what had once been gradual now seemed so immediate; was he panicking? Yes. A little. A lot?

There was nothing else to do, but run, and offer a whispered prayer to Sylaise, that the Arts she had taught the People would not now abandon her faithful daughter.