"James?! By the gods, what happened to you?!"
"I am returned. Out of necessity." He rasped. "I am... ill."
As if that was not plain to see by anyone present. Both women rushed to his side to render whatever aid they could. "Oh, my goodness, m'lord. It is you!" Tamsin exclaimed. "Do you need soup?" Coatleque tried to offer an arm, a hand, anything to help at first but he would have neither of them, pushing her away even.
"I require your room. Now." His anger began to ebb and Tamsin quickly relented. She led them into the estate without further protest. The tall man kept close to his patient and Coatleque followed them at her usual respectable distance.
The servants quarters themselves were sparse and undecorated save for some dried flowers and incense. A few empty crates and barrels which were whole enough to serve as furniture had been arranged in a sort of table and chairs in front of the hearth. An inexpensive tea set was arranged on top. Jameson seemingly threw all of these aside to make room as he headed straight to the hearth. "I need water to douse the hearth."
Poor Tamsin stared mournfully at the bits of ceramic being crushed underfoot. She seemed at a loss until Coatleque brought her back to reality. "Hurry, please." She rushed to a cabinet to fetch a pitcher which was filled quickly from a cistern and brought to Jameson. Taking it without looking at her, he dumped it over the fire and seemingly ignored the hiss of smoke and steam that billowed forth.
"James. Is this the poison you had told me of?" Coatleque questioned him from just across the tiny room. She had stood aside so as not to be in the way, knowing full well that James had a purpose to his madness. "And you!" She turned to the tall man. "You are the doctor he told me of!"
Jameson nodded quietly as he removed his shirt. The cloth was wrapped quickly around his hand and used to buffer the still smoldering wood and coals aside as he reached into the hearth. One of the stones at the back corner was pulled forth to reveal a hidden alcove just large enough for a small box to be secreted away. "Come now, Rossenheims," he murmured. "Do not disappoint me from the afterlife."
Coatleque stepped forward then to watch Jameson from behind. She stood by the 'good' doctor and gently tugged at his sleeve. "What is happening to him. Tell me, please." The man's naked back looked even worse in the dim candle light now that the hearth was put out. Something wholly unclean coursed through his veins, and she felt altogether helpless in that moment as if watching her love slowly die.
"Why, my dear," The Elezen replied. "He is suffering the effects of a possibly deadly withdrawal from a very wicked little formula. It is only due to my genius that he looks this good!" His arms were thrown wide as if to accept silent praise from the unseen masses assembled in the room.
"Then I cannot thank you enough for what you have already done for him."
Her word were cut off by a laughing cough from the hearth. "You were right, old friend!" Jameson rasped as he turned to them, a small spark of triumph across his face. He held up a small, black leather pouch with a glass vial protruding from the top. Coalteque could not tell what liquid it may have contained, but the glass itself was etched in gold with the Garlean numeral 'IV'
"I am returned. Out of necessity." He rasped. "I am... ill."
As if that was not plain to see by anyone present. Both women rushed to his side to render whatever aid they could. "Oh, my goodness, m'lord. It is you!" Tamsin exclaimed. "Do you need soup?" Coatleque tried to offer an arm, a hand, anything to help at first but he would have neither of them, pushing her away even.
"I require your room. Now." His anger began to ebb and Tamsin quickly relented. She led them into the estate without further protest. The tall man kept close to his patient and Coatleque followed them at her usual respectable distance.
The servants quarters themselves were sparse and undecorated save for some dried flowers and incense. A few empty crates and barrels which were whole enough to serve as furniture had been arranged in a sort of table and chairs in front of the hearth. An inexpensive tea set was arranged on top. Jameson seemingly threw all of these aside to make room as he headed straight to the hearth. "I need water to douse the hearth."
Poor Tamsin stared mournfully at the bits of ceramic being crushed underfoot. She seemed at a loss until Coatleque brought her back to reality. "Hurry, please." She rushed to a cabinet to fetch a pitcher which was filled quickly from a cistern and brought to Jameson. Taking it without looking at her, he dumped it over the fire and seemingly ignored the hiss of smoke and steam that billowed forth.
"James. Is this the poison you had told me of?" Coatleque questioned him from just across the tiny room. She had stood aside so as not to be in the way, knowing full well that James had a purpose to his madness. "And you!" She turned to the tall man. "You are the doctor he told me of!"
Jameson nodded quietly as he removed his shirt. The cloth was wrapped quickly around his hand and used to buffer the still smoldering wood and coals aside as he reached into the hearth. One of the stones at the back corner was pulled forth to reveal a hidden alcove just large enough for a small box to be secreted away. "Come now, Rossenheims," he murmured. "Do not disappoint me from the afterlife."
Coatleque stepped forward then to watch Jameson from behind. She stood by the 'good' doctor and gently tugged at his sleeve. "What is happening to him. Tell me, please." The man's naked back looked even worse in the dim candle light now that the hearth was put out. Something wholly unclean coursed through his veins, and she felt altogether helpless in that moment as if watching her love slowly die.
"Why, my dear," The Elezen replied. "He is suffering the effects of a possibly deadly withdrawal from a very wicked little formula. It is only due to my genius that he looks this good!" His arms were thrown wide as if to accept silent praise from the unseen masses assembled in the room.
"Then I cannot thank you enough for what you have already done for him."
Her word were cut off by a laughing cough from the hearth. "You were right, old friend!" Jameson rasped as he turned to them, a small spark of triumph across his face. He held up a small, black leather pouch with a glass vial protruding from the top. Coalteque could not tell what liquid it may have contained, but the glass itself was etched in gold with the Garlean numeral 'IV'
