#baronyofthesilverwolf

She strokes his hair "You know better than any us the dangers but Thistle doesn't understand you are trying to protect Arthur from his own zealouness. But of COURSE he plunged back in recklessly. He would kill himself to help Thistle, and almost did." A shake of her head "But you have taken greater injury and effort than you would tell any other. We must let you commune with the bale tonight"

"I will be fine." He insists, stubbornly. Then, at the LOOK he is sure to get from her, he changes it to, "Please see that everyone knows that I am fine." As he lets his love give him support on the way to the Balefire. The mess of the workshop shall wait for later to be cleaned.

"THat I will do" And she guides him to the balefire supporting him without being obvious , she will not betray any weakness in either. She is there for him, the sun will warm the dragon... as will the fire

(Scene?)

(Scene!)

Trina is parked in a chair by the unconscious Art. After issuing numerous dire threats, she eventually nodded off. Citrine, as always, perches on her shoulder but Schip and Madder are on the sleeping sidhe. Their glow is softer when they sleep, but not gone.

D'Lorean watches them both, making sure they're well and safe, and is on guard.

Thistle even scowls when she's asleep. So the sour expression probably isn't personal.

"You're a good kid, " Lorean mutters softly, "Got more passion than sense. Would have made a good satyr"

She puts on a cup of coffee

It's well into the next day when Art groans and stirs.

Madder and Schip alert the nocker as there's movement.

Eyelids flicker a touch.

There's a smell of coffee, and eggs and bacon

POKE.

"You better not be dead."

"Is he awake?" From the kitchen

He groans, and his face is still pallid, but he attempts to sit up. "...Thistle?"

Artie's voice is a bit weak and dry. He attempts again, "...water?"

"On it."

She's to her feet, stomping off to get water!

There's cold juice, or if she prefers, water "He's awake?" D'lorean asks

"Just woke up, he's thirsty. Breakfast doesn't smell bad, maybe I can make up a plate for him?"

"Sure, we got scrambled eggs, and bacon, because that's all I know really when it comes to breakfast. Oh, if he likes toast Ican do that too. Get him some orange juice. It's cold and good for him"

"Toast is good for sour stomachs."

A pause. "Thanks, Lav."

A smile "Anytime, Thistle. Get something for yourself too" And she prepares the toast

She nods, preparing two plates. Coffee for her, OJ & water for Art.

When she comes out, he's managed to prop himself up on the couch (bed?).

The room is ground floor, but it is a bedroom. A guest one

And he's probably propped up on the bed.

"Dee made grub. You should eat."

He takes the water eagerly and doesn't pause until he's downed the entire glass.

"Felt like I swallowed a desert mixed with broken glass." Slowly pushing back his messy hair. "What happened? I had the strangest dreams."

"And... where am I?"

"The Baroness' mortal house."

"The cantrip went bad, and the crystal ball exploded, looks like."

WINCE.

The door opens and Lavender peeks her head in

"The baron must be quite wroth." He says quietly.

"Livid. I think you scared him"

Scowl.

"He was pissy, yeah."

A blink at Lavender, and a sigh at Thistle. "Either way, I'm certainly not on his good side right now. He told me to just watch, and help pool the glamour as he guided the spell. But the... you must understand, I could see the threads of the working, and it was like they were asking me to read them. Once knew it went awry, I thought I could fix it..."

"And then it went south?" A sigh.

"It can be really hard watching someone else's work - because you can see it. But it's easy to tip the balance, yeah?"

"Too many chefs spoil the broth" Lavender nods "Look, you said you dreamed while you slept anything about ababy on an ocean?"

"It didn't just go south, it was a plane nosediving into a volcano. No, not a volcano, into an Ocean. I thought I drowned! I was in the water, and couldn't breath. And at the same time, it felt like I was so dry I would turn into dust." His hands clutch the blanket, knuckles gone white.

A curious look and she starts texting, not to anyone but making a record of arts words