OOC: Â Forgive the messed up font, things got wonky. Â *stabs formatting*
It was getting harder to think. Â
Are you alright?
And harder to move as well.  Feeling as if she was wading through molasses, Riven forced her legs to move.  One foot out in front of the other, nice and easy…
Hey. Â No. Your eyes are closing. Â Keep them open.
All Riven could do was manage a nod.  Her arm had just become a dull ache, and she was thankful for the cloak hiding it from view.  But it did nothing for the smell that had started to develop-pus mixed with blood and only gods knew what else, she hadn’t been able to keep it clean.  Feet becoming unsteady, Riven nearly pitched forward, caught only by a pair of armored blue arms.
Be care-  The voice trailed off.  Riven’s eyelids fluttered, and she could faintly hear the clattering of platemail.  Suddenly a hand pressed itself against her forehead, a cool pressure that made the tension in her head ease just a blessed bit…
Seven hells!  You’re burning up!
Was she?  Riven didn’t know, she was just so very tired.  The voice was wonderful to listen to though, a silvery baritone that was soothing to the ears.  The arms shifted-pulling her up into a carry-hold, the clinking of platemail again for several minutes and then she was being set down on something soft.  Fabric rustled as her blue-helmed savior pulled at the cloak-and then a string of curses as he saw her right arm.  Distantly, Riven wondered if any of the gods had even attempted those sexual positions.
Hold on, I’ll get you to a healer!  To that Riven knew she should respond in some way, but the blackness was growing, it was nibbling at her toes, her feet, her ankles, spreading up her legs...gods, when had she had ever been this tired?  With a murmur she let herself be pulled under, away from everything that lingered at the edges of her existence…
Riven opened her eyes.  The ceiling of Vahn’s bedroom looked down at her, the blankets warm around her small form.  Vahn’s side of the bed was still empty, an indicator that he hadn’t returned from his patrol.  As her gaze flicked about the now familiar surroundings, Riven felt herself relax by degrees, the tension still lingering from the memory-nightmare.  Lifting her right arm, she gazed at it-the moon providing a source of illumination.  In the darkness, the scars seemed muted.  With a sigh Riven set down her arm, closing her eyes.
Suppose that’s what I get for going to Fallgourd yesterday and looking in their archives.  Her eyes opened again, weariness in their blue depths.  Bad memories...
It was getting harder to think. Â
Are you alright?
And harder to move as well.  Feeling as if she was wading through molasses, Riven forced her legs to move.  One foot out in front of the other, nice and easy…
Hey. Â No. Your eyes are closing. Â Keep them open.
All Riven could do was manage a nod.  Her arm had just become a dull ache, and she was thankful for the cloak hiding it from view.  But it did nothing for the smell that had started to develop-pus mixed with blood and only gods knew what else, she hadn’t been able to keep it clean.  Feet becoming unsteady, Riven nearly pitched forward, caught only by a pair of armored blue arms.
Be care-  The voice trailed off.  Riven’s eyelids fluttered, and she could faintly hear the clattering of platemail.  Suddenly a hand pressed itself against her forehead, a cool pressure that made the tension in her head ease just a blessed bit…
Seven hells!  You’re burning up!
Was she?  Riven didn’t know, she was just so very tired.  The voice was wonderful to listen to though, a silvery baritone that was soothing to the ears.  The arms shifted-pulling her up into a carry-hold, the clinking of platemail again for several minutes and then she was being set down on something soft.  Fabric rustled as her blue-helmed savior pulled at the cloak-and then a string of curses as he saw her right arm.  Distantly, Riven wondered if any of the gods had even attempted those sexual positions.
Hold on, I’ll get you to a healer!  To that Riven knew she should respond in some way, but the blackness was growing, it was nibbling at her toes, her feet, her ankles, spreading up her legs...gods, when had she had ever been this tired?  With a murmur she let herself be pulled under, away from everything that lingered at the edges of her existence…
Riven opened her eyes.  The ceiling of Vahn’s bedroom looked down at her, the blankets warm around her small form.  Vahn’s side of the bed was still empty, an indicator that he hadn’t returned from his patrol.  As her gaze flicked about the now familiar surroundings, Riven felt herself relax by degrees, the tension still lingering from the memory-nightmare.  Lifting her right arm, she gazed at it-the moon providing a source of illumination.  In the darkness, the scars seemed muted.  With a sigh Riven set down her arm, closing her eyes.
Suppose that’s what I get for going to Fallgourd yesterday and looking in their archives.  Her eyes opened again, weariness in their blue depths.  Bad memories...
