Not all things Regis brews that has medicinal uses has to taste bad. There are good reasons for the various herbs and berries he usually puts in their morning tea beside their pleasant aroma and taste. The mint and ginger, the raspberry leaves and blackcurrants and even pine needles. All there to in some small way help to boost the immune systems of this small, traveling band, to help ease upset stomachs and calm coughs and nausea. As the others do seem to appreciate the taste of the tea he brews for them, he's seen no need to inform them of this.
But when it comes to the more concentrated brews, the potent medicines he has now taken to giving Aleanna, those there simply is no way to make taste good, or even less horrid than they do.
He studies her briefly when she turns her attention back to the roasting meat, his keen senses taking in the flushed cheeks and the slight but very real increase in her heart rate. He wonders... But, to save her any further embarrassment - was that what it had been? - he turns to the pot of tea and pours her a mug of it, careful to keep the leaves in the pot.
"As well you should," Regis says, falling into that tone he sometimes gets, that heralds a bit of a lecture on some subject coming on. "First of all, you have slept. That in itself will always do wonders to improve ones sense of well-being. But also, the salicin found in the willow bark that is one of the key ingredients of the medicine I gave you last night as well as this morning, is both an effective analgesic and antipyretic. That is, a painkiller and will help lower fevers. Now, I will try to not lecture you too much of the very real importance that you do not strain yourself more than is strictly necessary, but I do also think it is important for you to be aware that while the medicine is of actual help, it is also masking your symptoms. It is not likely that you would feel as well without it. I do like to think that you are on the mend, as it were, but the illness is still present."
Aleanna gratefully accepts the tea he offers to her, letting the warmth of the mug sink into her hands. Whatever sort of tea he's brewed this morning smells delicious; much more fragrant than the medicinal brews she'd downed last night and this morning. She looks forward to a good, hearty breakfast, pleased by both the food and drink on offer as well as the company.
She keeps her gaze focused on the fire, biting back a smile as she deliberately ignores the butterflies in her stomach. Lingering affects of the illness, they've got to be.
Her smile turns teasing, a bit, at the shift of his tone.
"Duly noted, serah," she says, turning back to look at him as the meat finishes cooking. She hands him a plate before taking her own, balancing both food and drink on her knees. "I will make sure I only strain the parts of myself that are unmasked." She winks at him, unable to help it. Teasing him is proving to be such fun, after all.
He blinks at her in startled surprise at the teasing as he accepts the plate, but quickly his lips twitch in amusement. "Then I suppose I had best be grateful for your armor."
He starts to eat, pondering to himself about the foolishness of old men, though of course in his case age is wholly relative and not at all what it seems to be at first glance. Still, he has hundreds of years at his back and she but some and twenty. Is it then wise to allow these notes of flirtation that he is starting to detect in their banter?
Still, his thoughts are interrupted by a gust of chilly wind blowing through the camp. His eyes go up from his plate to the utterly gray skies seen through the bare twigs and branches of the trees in this mire and he has to stop himself from visibly sniffing the air like some manner of hound. "It looks like rain, doesn't it?" He smells it on the wind too. As if the mire isn't awful enough as it is...
"It is rather sturdy," Aleanna says, smiling around her own meal as she pops a bit of meat in her mouth. "And has served me well these past few months. Though not nearly as well as some other weapons at my disposal." She sips at her tea next, marveling at the way it so compliments the meat.
Probably, she shouldn't flirt so openly. Probably, she'll be expected to make some kind of political alliance through marriage for the benefit of the Inquisition as a whole.
Still, fuck that, she thinks. She should be able to follow her own heart, after everything. She will give all that she can to the efforts in fighting the evil of this world, up to and including her own life. But she refuses to tame her heart for anyone, no matter the necessity of it. And she very much enjoys the company of the man sitting beside her. Life's too short not to grab it by the horns, really.
His mention of rain pulls her out of her own thoughts, for the time being. She follows his gaze towards the sky, which, even for the bog, looks thick and heavy, ready to burst at any moment. The air is also heavy with the scent of rain, a promise all but spoken.
"Well, but of course," she says. "Because the bog has just been such a desert, so far. The weather is obviously compensating."
"Yes, quite clearly that must be the case." From the look of things there really is no hope that they will be spared a downpour until the evening. Normally that would have simply been an annoyance, but with Aleanna's health being momentarily fragile, Regis finds these gray and heavy skies to only add to the existing concerns.
He doesn't go on about it, though. She already knows his worries about her and there is no need to speak on about it.
"Then I suppose we should try to make some headway before the skies open up on us." He tucks into his breakfast, not wolfing it down by any means but rather eating like someone taught good manners during his upbringing. This isn't the fact of things but there is a reason he wouldn't tear into a piece of roasted meat with his teeth; allowing his fangs to be seen would quickly reveal him to be something other than what he makes himself out to be.
Manners or not he still makes quick work of his breakfast, after which he excuses himself to go take down his tent and get his pack in order. Getting himself sorted out for departure quickly leaves him with time to assist Aleanna in her tasks. She might not think she really needs the help but he still plans on insisting.
"If this weather thinks it can slow me down, it's in for a rather rude awakening," she comments in between bites and sips of her meal and drink, letting her gaze linger on the grey of what they can see of the sky above them. Combined with the thick fog of the bog itself, Aleanna feels a bit enveloped, which only further adds to her restlessness and desire to throw herself back into the midst of her work.
She digs into her own meal then, casual and just on this side of polite. For the first few years of her life, her noble heritage determined that she ate like a proper lady. Her time in the Circle did a fair number on that sort of propriety, and so here she is, indulging somewhere between the two worlds.
The meal ends as quickly as it begins, and Aleanna takes a moment to help wash up and pack everything away. She hopes to be off as quickly as possible, and so she tends to put Regis' warnings not to overly exert herself off to the side for the time being.
She's quick and efficient at helping to get everything ready, even without her magic. Though, of course, magic does make things a bit easier. She hardly considers the fact that she is likely testing her own limits working at the pace she is; she throws herself into the work without a second thought.
It does not go unnoticed by the barber-surgeon in their midst that the Lady Inquisitor is working harder than she should be. The thing is that he can't actually do much about it. He has given her more than her share of warnings, has explained that whatever illness she has contracted it is still in her body, that the medicine he has given her is masking her symptoms and that if she pushes herself too hard it can get worse. He has told her all of this but she is a grown woman and it is her own responsibility to pace herself. All he can really do is keep an eye on her.
That and to scramble to deal with as many of the morning's task so that she won't have to, and to shoulder as many of their burdens as he can get away with. Again it is one of those things where he could do more. Physically he is thin and wiry but he does possess more strength than his lean appearance would hint at. He could carry more than he does, far more, but not without raising suspicion.
Tearing down the camp is routine work and they are soon ready to set out again. Not having made himself out to be a fighter, Regis has never taken any form of lead. He doesn't now either, but he does make a point to stick close to Aleanna. He is worried. The environment is unfriendly and even hostile, making their progress dearly paid for and will soon be made worse by rain, of that he is sure. He can hope that they will be able to avoid the Darkspawn as much as possible, for even just covering this terrain will put more strain on her than he would like.
That is too much to hope for, of course. When the rain starts to fall still early in the day the pools of water seems to grow, making them harder to avoid. He sees the first misstep, a booted foot sinking down into a puddle and all he can really do about it is inwardly groan in dismay.
Aleanna makes sure to check with all of her companions and accompanying soldiers to ensure that everyone has their weapons, armor, and any other gear with them. Given that they're in the Fallow Mire, and given that the skies themselves will likely open up on them, she wants to make sure everyone is prepared.
It starts to rain as soon as they set out. Naturally.
And the puddles grow, extending like hands towards the rest of the water, Aleanna tries her best to watch where she steps.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for her companions. Someone steps into the water a moment later, and soon enough, Darkspawn come crawling from the water like so many weeds. Aleanna sighs, but she grabs her staff, lightning already beginning to crackle from her hands.
"Let's try and flank them!" She shouts out to her companions, moving herself into a better position to be able to strike and strike hard. She very much ignores the aches creeping like tendrils down her body; probably just the chill from the rain, she thinks. "Hit these bastards where it hurts!"
Her companions shout their agreement, and their enthusiasm gives her heart; she smiles, even, as the battle bursts to life. She wouldn't trade this adventure for anything, she thinks.
And so she throws herself wholeheartedly into the frenzy, casting a barrier spell briefly to cover the whole group before returning to offensive attacks.
This is much what Regis had been dreading. The Mire is a dangerous place and battles will happen and when they do, of course Aleanna can't be expected not to fight. All he can hope is that she has even more strength than he is aware of. He doesn't doubt her capabilities or the strength of her will, certainly not. But she is so taxed already, so very taxed.
Medic that he is he stays in the middle of the group where the battle doesn't reach him. He will have his work to do once it is all over. They are all capable soldiers and he has full faith in them, but there will always be some injury to tend to. And, of course, Aleanna...
When the battle finally ends Regis looks down at the now unmoving corpses. Awful, undead things. Living creatures, even those lacking actual sentience he might have some success in deterring by his mere presence alone, but these mindless things? No. They would keep on coming no matter what he did.
Quickly surveying the group he sees no-one with any serious and pressing injuries that needs his immediate attention, and so he draws closer to Aleanna, more concerned about her health in this moment. "Lady?"
The battle is rather quick in comparison to others Aleanna has fought, particular others she's fought here in the Fallow Mire. The darkspawn aren't precisely made of sturdier stuff, and so they easily fall under the group's combined attacks, particular her and Dorian's use of fire magic.
Aleanna loses herself in the dancing motions of battle, unheeding of the fact that she is, technically, still stick. She only stops to catch her breath once the last of the darkspawn falls, and the group is ready to move on once again.
She's about to make something of an encouraging speech, something with lots of words and a fair few quips, when she feels the world spin around her, the edges of her vision starting to blur.
"Pardon me, I think I need to - "
But she doesn't get the chance to finish that sentence as the fever resurfaces and she sways, falling right into Regis, who happens to be the closest person to her.
When Aleanna falls Regis is there to catch her. He had seen her face suddenly go pale. He wishes he could say that he is surprised but he isn't, though sometimes he hates it when he is right.
He cradles her close with one arm as he sinks to his knees, lowering her down. His free hand is by her neck, feeling her racing pulse and rising temperature. He doesn't at all like what he finds. “Brave and stubborn people really doesn't make for good patients,” he murmurs softly as he brushes away wet locks of red hair that have plastered themselves to her face in the fight.
Looking up he seeks out Cassandra. “We must seek out more safe and sheltered ground. She must have rest if she is to break this fever. She is in no state to travel, let alone fight.” A place to grant respite for as long as is needed? Regis knows this won't be cured by a mere good night's sleep. Where to find such a place, here in the mire? Finding a place to set up camp for such a large group as this can be challenge enough each night.
She falls into a space somewhere between conscious and unconscious, a sort of space between waking and whatever it is the fever is doing to her head. Visions of all kinds leap about before her eyes, along with concerned whispers and muted discussions over what must be done next.
Cassandra says something to Regis about having the group split up for ease of travel. Something about Aleanna and Regis catching up with the others once she's well enough to travel again, or something to that effect. Aleanna can't quite make out the words, but she can hear the concern and the meaning within Cassandra's words.
She groans, her head aching, and she clutches at what she can of Regis as he holds her up. She can feel herself shivering; it feels as if all the progress she's made so far from her illness has entirely vanished.
She doesn't hear Regis' response to Cassandra, but she appreciates his presence all the same.
There is a flurry of activity for a time. Scouts are sent out and a decent location found nearby, where a slightly higher ground makes it less damp and soggy if not exactly dry and a small copse of gnarled trees and denser underbrush can provide shelter both from the wind and from sight while still giving just enough space for them to pitch a tent. Just the one. They will have to make due.
The group helps to get everything quickly settled, leaving behind supplies before they go; rations for a week that Regis knows he can make last for two since he himself doesn't actually need much of it. There are also a clothes and blankets kept mostly dry by the bags of oiled leather they have been packed into. These will now initially be very important, as Aleanna is soaked and chilled to the bone.
"I apologize for this breach of your privacy," he mumbles after he has carried her into the tent, unsure if she can even hear him or not in her fevered delirium, "but it is necessary. I can't leave you chilled like this." Now safely out of the rain he wastes no time in methodically stripping her of her armor and soaked clothing. Just as quickly he dresses her in dry garments before wrapping her up in the blankets they have. He doesn't think he can get her to swallow another dose of the medicine as it is now. Even if he could it is still too early for it; too much medicine will only make it a poison.
Still, there are other things he can do and will do. Hastily he sheds his own cold and wet clothes and redresses in a dry set of trousers and tunic before he too lies down, gently gathering Aleanna against him and wrapping the blankets around the both of them. Yes, she is running a fever but a prolonged chill like this won't help matters. He must get her warmed and this is the best way he knows how in circumstances like this.
Aleanna instinctively wants to protest at being handled like a child, picked up and carried as though she might fall apart otherwise. But the fact of the matter is that, even in her current state, she can tell she's rather fragile. She doesn't even have the energy to thank the rest of the group as they provide them with supplies and rations, or to say good-bye as they prepare to set out on their own.
She doesn't even have the energy or will to make a smart remark about Regis getting her out of her clothes as he helps to dry her.
All she can is lie still and let Regis take care of her. It's such an odd feeling; as though she were a prisoner in her own body. She might as well be, for all the fever does to render her helpless.
But soon enough, Regis is changing himself, and he's pulling her close, throwing warm blankets over the pair of them. Aleanna lets out a sigh, snuggling up to the warmth out of instinct.
"Well," she says, when she does manage to find the strength to speak at last, "this is one way of getting to know each other better." She hopes it's obvious from her tone that she doesn't mind in the least.
That she can seek out the comfort of bodily warmth and that she is lucid enough to speak is a great relief. Even more than her little quip it is that relief that has him breathe out a short, quiet laugh.
"Yes, well..." He clears his throat while rubbing a hand in circles over her back to get her circulation going. "It is an unorthodox method to be sure but will no doubt prove effective. The others have gone on ahead. We are as sheltered as we can be, but there simply wasn't room for the others to stay." It will only be the two of them, for however long it will take for Aleanna to recover.
"I could have wished for a better place for you to recuperate but we shall simply have to make due with what we have. This time I do not intend to let you be so hasty in being on your way. We shall reunite with the others in due time but for now you must simply allow yourself to rest."
The sound of his laughter, soft as it may be, does just as much to help put Aleanna at ease as does the comforting presence of his warm body. She smiles, glancing over at him, very much hoping she'll get the chance to hear that particular sound again. Maker, he really is lovely.
Her eyes flutter closed a bit as he begins rubbing circles on her back, a gesture she very much appreciates. She might feel as bad as she did yesterday, if not worse, but she must admit she is quite fond of this more intimate treatment.
"I would rather they move on," she says, considering for a moment. "They won't be able to close rifts without me but they can still help in other ways that don't require me. I just hope they don't run into any trouble." Which is both sweet and hypocritical of her, given how often she tends to attract trouble herself on a daily basis.
At that, she has to smile sheepishly. If she weren't already flushed from the fever, she would be blushing.
"Well of course," she says, "because that's what I'm here for. Extended recoveries."
There is a peculiar scent to him, normally hidden under the fragrances of the herbs and spices he always carries and works with but detectable up close like this; a strange, earthy smell, like open, rainwashed soil.
Holding her the way he is, her head tucked in under his chin, he has to crane his neck to peer down at her. "Dear lady, with how you have been pushing yourself I am not so sure I shall not think you are merely jesting."
His rubbing of her back had halted just for a moment but he resumes it now, in slower, less vigorous and more comforting strokes. He breathes a sigh, closing his eyes and letting some of the tension drain from his body. She will be alright, with time and care. He will make sure she gets both.
"Try if you can to not dwell on the rifts. They will still be there when you have recovered and is better able to see to them."
Aleanna winds up snuggling further into him, his earthy scent settling over her senses easily, like the rain. It makes her smile, as she thinks of all the puddles she's ever jumped in back home, and all the days she spent rolling around the wildness of the earth. His scent is as comforting as the way he is holding her, and she appreciates him all the more for it.
"I always do like to keep handsome men on their toes," she says, smiling. "A bad habit I've yet to grow out of, I'm afraid."
She lets out a sigh as his strokes slow, become more comfortable. His care and attention are doing wonders for her spirit, if not her health, as they remain comfortable in the tent. Or, as comfortable as they can be, at any rate.
Her smile turns a little wry, at that. "A little hard not to think of them, when I have a piece of the Fade stuck in my hand."
Handsome men? That has Regis raising an eyebrow in equal parts puzzlement and surprise. He has no issue with his appearance - what he knows of it as he can't see his own reflection in a mirror - but he is aware that he looks to be in his middle age, or even older still after events in the not too distant past that he's still recovering from. He looks worn and haggard because he truly is. All in all, it doesn't make for what spirited, young women would normally find very attractive.
He lets that topic go, though, both for the fact that he doesn't quite know how to reply to it - again, the foolishness of old men - but also because their conversation takes a more serious turn.
For a moment his arms tighten around her, as if wanting to provide comfort for the momentous and unasked for task that has been given her. But how does one express sympathy for something like this? The Fade itself, lodged in the palm of her hand. Even he, with all his centuries of life lived, doesn't really know. He doesn't want her to feel as if he pities her. He truly doesn't; if anything he admires her, for shouldering this burden and keeping her spirits high.
In the end, he ends up softly echoing words from the night before. "Remember, dear Lady, that you do not walk this path alone."
Aleanna's never been one for being afraid of speaking her mind. She knows her own mind and her own heart, and she knows them well, from all the years she's spent honing both. Even if she weren't currently burdened with a fever, she would not hesitate in stating what she thinks of Regis; she's never been one from holding back, regardless of whether she likes a person or not. (To say that this has gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion is something of an understatement, particularly when one speaks with Josephine on the matter.)
His arms tighten around her, and it feels so wonderful; so warm and supportive, in a way that reminds her of the comfort she found in the embraces of her fellow mages that first night in the Circle at her young age.
She smiles, and without realizing it, she leans back into his arms, nuzzling him slightly.
"It feels good, you know," she says, in a moment of vulnerable honesty. "To hear that. I appreciate it. Thank you, good sir."
He probably shouldn't read too much into this. The light, flirtatious banter from before is probably just who she is as a person, and her snuggling up to him like this is most likely no more than seeking friendly and freely given comfort and warmth. And, if there is more to it than that, he should put a stop to it, sooner rather than later. For her sake. He doesn't wish such grief upon her, or to deceive her more than he already is. What getting to know her, this bright, spirited young woman, might have started to make him wish for should be of no consequence.
And yet... Even as she nuzzles against him, he does nothing to create distance between them. Her breath is warm and sweet against his throat and for now, just for now he allows himself this brief moment to enjoy it, not helping matters at all by brushing back her mass of red curls.
"Please, just call me Regis. I would not call myself sir of anything."
He should get up and leave her to rest. Just as soon as he's sure she's warmed up. Just as soon as...
Aleanna sighs as he brushes back her hair, a comforting gesture that reminds of her happier memories at the Circle, back when they would all nest together in one of the dorm rooms, usually all on the floor in a giant pile of pillows, blankets, and bodies. She winds up snuggling closer against him, a small smile on her lips. He feels so warm and sturdy, a rock warmed by the sun. And even through the warmth of her fever, she can feel the way her heart cackles with unspent electricity in his presence.
"Regis, then," she repeats, her lips curving in a genuine smile. "I like it. It's not a name one hears too often, these days."
She sighs, and it's likely that her breath falls on him in some capacity, given how closely they are entwined together.
"Thank you, Regis," she says. "It means a lot to me that you're here with me."
"I could not very well leave you," he says, smiling as he repeats the gesture, not blind to her enjoyment of it. "A doctor's place is with his patient, wouldn't you agree? Though I must confess that this is not the usual treatment I would give." No, far from. He could get up now. She would be fine if he did, and there are many other useful things he could and perhaps should be doing. And yet he lingers.
It is with a somewhat guilty feeling that Regis enjoys this moment. It has been so very long since someone last took comfort in his arms and he allowed in turn to find his own. He is finding it here, drawing his own comfort just as much as he's giving it to her, most likely. And he's not even the one suffering an illness, though admittedly, he is suffering a deep and prolonged weariness, and years upon years of solitude.
So he focuses on the senses involved now, to store away a detailed memory of the moment to recall another day; how she feels where she lay against him, her heat and shape from head to toe, her breath on his skin. Her scent, made wild by the lingering traces of wood smoke from their campfires, from the air of the mire and the rain. He files away every sound his sharp ears can pick up; her voice when she speaks, the air flowing in and out of her lungs, the steady and strong beating of her heart.
But... There is something more, something that had been hidden under the smattering of the rain against the canvas of their tent, some other sound that he can hear now when he's actively listening. Something from outside, something drawing nearer. Frowning he pulls back somewhat and pushes up to lean on one elbow, eyes at the small gap by the tent flaps. He can only hope that it is only some animal that will soon be on its way, but if it isn't...
"Well, I'm very fond of this sort of unusual treatment, just so you know," Aleanna tells him with another smile. She turns her head and breathes him in, letting out a small sigh in the process.
She's never really felt close to someone like this. Not in anything other than a friendly way, of course. It was a dangerous game, in the Circle, to develop feelings for anyone else; the templars could and did so very easily hold that power against you. And so she's rather used to guarding her heart more carefully than this. But something about Regis makes her want to open up; she feels safe with him, and warm. Like she can take a moment to catch her breath and not carry the weight of the world on her worn and weary shoulders, for once.
Aleanna herself is too out of it, still, to be able to pick up on the sounds of approaching intruders to their tent. But the scent of darkspawn...well. It creeps up on her rather suddenly, and even with her nose stuffed, she can detect the scent of decay and rot. Alarmed, she sits up abruptly.
"Regis, be careful!"
But a moment later, a gnarled hand is pulling back at the tent from the other side, and all peace and tranquility is, for the moment, lost.
It is funny, sometimes, how quickly things can change. One moment Regis is a warm and comforting presence right there next to her, in all appearance a simple man. A bit odd in some ways, perhaps, but just a man. But in the next moment...
Where he had lain next to her is suddenly nothing but smoke, or mist perhaps, thick and gray and dark. It moves, twisting like something living, rising and staying gathered like a cloud. Then it rushes forward with such speed and presence even without solid form that it sweeps the still-warm blankets right off Aleanna. It hits the darkspawn even before it is fully visible with the sound of a body slamming into another, knocking the creature out and away from the tent.
Then there is the sound of battle, but not like those the group has fought in their travels. There is no sound of magic, of spells, no sounds of weapon striking. No, this is different. This is the sounds of claws against claws, ripping and tearing; wet, awful sounds.
From the moment Regis had joined them he had stated clearly that he is not a fighter. But he can fight and now he does, because he must. He fights like the beast he is by nature; the veil of humanity fallen aside to reveal hands where claws like blades sprout from his fingers, his face monstrously twisted, eyes solid black and bottomless, ears swept up into long points and a mouth full of nothing but sharp teeth.
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But when it comes to the more concentrated brews, the potent medicines he has now taken to giving Aleanna, those there simply is no way to make taste good, or even less horrid than they do.
He studies her briefly when she turns her attention back to the roasting meat, his keen senses taking in the flushed cheeks and the slight but very real increase in her heart rate. He wonders... But, to save her any further embarrassment - was that what it had been? - he turns to the pot of tea and pours her a mug of it, careful to keep the leaves in the pot.
"As well you should," Regis says, falling into that tone he sometimes gets, that heralds a bit of a lecture on some subject coming on. "First of all, you have slept. That in itself will always do wonders to improve ones sense of well-being. But also, the salicin found in the willow bark that is one of the key ingredients of the medicine I gave you last night as well as this morning, is both an effective analgesic and antipyretic. That is, a painkiller and will help lower fevers. Now, I will try to not lecture you too much of the very real importance that you do not strain yourself more than is strictly necessary, but I do also think it is important for you to be aware that while the medicine is of actual help, it is also masking your symptoms. It is not likely that you would feel as well without it. I do like to think that you are on the mend, as it were, but the illness is still present."
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She keeps her gaze focused on the fire, biting back a smile as she deliberately ignores the butterflies in her stomach. Lingering affects of the illness, they've got to be.
Her smile turns teasing, a bit, at the shift of his tone.
"Duly noted, serah," she says, turning back to look at him as the meat finishes cooking. She hands him a plate before taking her own, balancing both food and drink on her knees. "I will make sure I only strain the parts of myself that are unmasked." She winks at him, unable to help it. Teasing him is proving to be such fun, after all.
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He starts to eat, pondering to himself about the foolishness of old men, though of course in his case age is wholly relative and not at all what it seems to be at first glance. Still, he has hundreds of years at his back and she but some and twenty. Is it then wise to allow these notes of flirtation that he is starting to detect in their banter?
Still, his thoughts are interrupted by a gust of chilly wind blowing through the camp. His eyes go up from his plate to the utterly gray skies seen through the bare twigs and branches of the trees in this mire and he has to stop himself from visibly sniffing the air like some manner of hound. "It looks like rain, doesn't it?" He smells it on the wind too. As if the mire isn't awful enough as it is...
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Probably, she shouldn't flirt so openly. Probably, she'll be expected to make some kind of political alliance through marriage for the benefit of the Inquisition as a whole.
Still, fuck that, she thinks. She should be able to follow her own heart, after everything. She will give all that she can to the efforts in fighting the evil of this world, up to and including her own life. But she refuses to tame her heart for anyone, no matter the necessity of it. And she very much enjoys the company of the man sitting beside her. Life's too short not to grab it by the horns, really.
His mention of rain pulls her out of her own thoughts, for the time being. She follows his gaze towards the sky, which, even for the bog, looks thick and heavy, ready to burst at any moment. The air is also heavy with the scent of rain, a promise all but spoken.
"Well, but of course," she says. "Because the bog has just been such a desert, so far. The weather is obviously compensating."
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He doesn't go on about it, though. She already knows his worries about her and there is no need to speak on about it.
"Then I suppose we should try to make some headway before the skies open up on us." He tucks into his breakfast, not wolfing it down by any means but rather eating like someone taught good manners during his upbringing. This isn't the fact of things but there is a reason he wouldn't tear into a piece of roasted meat with his teeth; allowing his fangs to be seen would quickly reveal him to be something other than what he makes himself out to be.
Manners or not he still makes quick work of his breakfast, after which he excuses himself to go take down his tent and get his pack in order. Getting himself sorted out for departure quickly leaves him with time to assist Aleanna in her tasks. She might not think she really needs the help but he still plans on insisting.
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She digs into her own meal then, casual and just on this side of polite. For the first few years of her life, her noble heritage determined that she ate like a proper lady. Her time in the Circle did a fair number on that sort of propriety, and so here she is, indulging somewhere between the two worlds.
The meal ends as quickly as it begins, and Aleanna takes a moment to help wash up and pack everything away. She hopes to be off as quickly as possible, and so she tends to put Regis' warnings not to overly exert herself off to the side for the time being.
She's quick and efficient at helping to get everything ready, even without her magic. Though, of course, magic does make things a bit easier. She hardly considers the fact that she is likely testing her own limits working at the pace she is; she throws herself into the work without a second thought.
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That and to scramble to deal with as many of the morning's task so that she won't have to, and to shoulder as many of their burdens as he can get away with. Again it is one of those things where he could do more. Physically he is thin and wiry but he does possess more strength than his lean appearance would hint at. He could carry more than he does, far more, but not without raising suspicion.
Tearing down the camp is routine work and they are soon ready to set out again. Not having made himself out to be a fighter, Regis has never taken any form of lead. He doesn't now either, but he does make a point to stick close to Aleanna. He is worried. The environment is unfriendly and even hostile, making their progress dearly paid for and will soon be made worse by rain, of that he is sure. He can hope that they will be able to avoid the Darkspawn as much as possible, for even just covering this terrain will put more strain on her than he would like.
That is too much to hope for, of course. When the rain starts to fall still early in the day the pools of water seems to grow, making them harder to avoid. He sees the first misstep, a booted foot sinking down into a puddle and all he can really do about it is inwardly groan in dismay.
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It starts to rain as soon as they set out. Naturally.
And the puddles grow, extending like hands towards the rest of the water, Aleanna tries her best to watch where she steps.
The same, unfortunately, cannot be said for her companions. Someone steps into the water a moment later, and soon enough, Darkspawn come crawling from the water like so many weeds. Aleanna sighs, but she grabs her staff, lightning already beginning to crackle from her hands.
"Let's try and flank them!" She shouts out to her companions, moving herself into a better position to be able to strike and strike hard. She very much ignores the aches creeping like tendrils down her body; probably just the chill from the rain, she thinks. "Hit these bastards where it hurts!"
Her companions shout their agreement, and their enthusiasm gives her heart; she smiles, even, as the battle bursts to life. She wouldn't trade this adventure for anything, she thinks.
And so she throws herself wholeheartedly into the frenzy, casting a barrier spell briefly to cover the whole group before returning to offensive attacks.
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Medic that he is he stays in the middle of the group where the battle doesn't reach him. He will have his work to do once it is all over. They are all capable soldiers and he has full faith in them, but there will always be some injury to tend to. And, of course, Aleanna...
When the battle finally ends Regis looks down at the now unmoving corpses. Awful, undead things. Living creatures, even those lacking actual sentience he might have some success in deterring by his mere presence alone, but these mindless things? No. They would keep on coming no matter what he did.
Quickly surveying the group he sees no-one with any serious and pressing injuries that needs his immediate attention, and so he draws closer to Aleanna, more concerned about her health in this moment. "Lady?"
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Aleanna loses herself in the dancing motions of battle, unheeding of the fact that she is, technically, still stick. She only stops to catch her breath once the last of the darkspawn falls, and the group is ready to move on once again.
She's about to make something of an encouraging speech, something with lots of words and a fair few quips, when she feels the world spin around her, the edges of her vision starting to blur.
"Pardon me, I think I need to - "
But she doesn't get the chance to finish that sentence as the fever resurfaces and she sways, falling right into Regis, who happens to be the closest person to her.
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He cradles her close with one arm as he sinks to his knees, lowering her down. His free hand is by her neck, feeling her racing pulse and rising temperature. He doesn't at all like what he finds. “Brave and stubborn people really doesn't make for good patients,” he murmurs softly as he brushes away wet locks of red hair that have plastered themselves to her face in the fight.
Looking up he seeks out Cassandra. “We must seek out more safe and sheltered ground. She must have rest if she is to break this fever. She is in no state to travel, let alone fight.” A place to grant respite for as long as is needed? Regis knows this won't be cured by a mere good night's sleep. Where to find such a place, here in the mire? Finding a place to set up camp for such a large group as this can be challenge enough each night.
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Cassandra says something to Regis about having the group split up for ease of travel. Something about Aleanna and Regis catching up with the others once she's well enough to travel again, or something to that effect. Aleanna can't quite make out the words, but she can hear the concern and the meaning within Cassandra's words.
She groans, her head aching, and she clutches at what she can of Regis as he holds her up. She can feel herself shivering; it feels as if all the progress she's made so far from her illness has entirely vanished.
She doesn't hear Regis' response to Cassandra, but she appreciates his presence all the same.
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The group helps to get everything quickly settled, leaving behind supplies before they go; rations for a week that Regis knows he can make last for two since he himself doesn't actually need much of it. There are also a clothes and blankets kept mostly dry by the bags of oiled leather they have been packed into. These will now initially be very important, as Aleanna is soaked and chilled to the bone.
"I apologize for this breach of your privacy," he mumbles after he has carried her into the tent, unsure if she can even hear him or not in her fevered delirium, "but it is necessary. I can't leave you chilled like this." Now safely out of the rain he wastes no time in methodically stripping her of her armor and soaked clothing. Just as quickly he dresses her in dry garments before wrapping her up in the blankets they have. He doesn't think he can get her to swallow another dose of the medicine as it is now. Even if he could it is still too early for it; too much medicine will only make it a poison.
Still, there are other things he can do and will do. Hastily he sheds his own cold and wet clothes and redresses in a dry set of trousers and tunic before he too lies down, gently gathering Aleanna against him and wrapping the blankets around the both of them. Yes, she is running a fever but a prolonged chill like this won't help matters. He must get her warmed and this is the best way he knows how in circumstances like this.
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She doesn't even have the energy or will to make a smart remark about Regis getting her out of her clothes as he helps to dry her.
All she can is lie still and let Regis take care of her. It's such an odd feeling; as though she were a prisoner in her own body. She might as well be, for all the fever does to render her helpless.
But soon enough, Regis is changing himself, and he's pulling her close, throwing warm blankets over the pair of them. Aleanna lets out a sigh, snuggling up to the warmth out of instinct.
"Well," she says, when she does manage to find the strength to speak at last, "this is one way of getting to know each other better." She hopes it's obvious from her tone that she doesn't mind in the least.
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"Yes, well..." He clears his throat while rubbing a hand in circles over her back to get her circulation going. "It is an unorthodox method to be sure but will no doubt prove effective. The others have gone on ahead. We are as sheltered as we can be, but there simply wasn't room for the others to stay." It will only be the two of them, for however long it will take for Aleanna to recover.
"I could have wished for a better place for you to recuperate but we shall simply have to make due with what we have. This time I do not intend to let you be so hasty in being on your way. We shall reunite with the others in due time but for now you must simply allow yourself to rest."
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Her eyes flutter closed a bit as he begins rubbing circles on her back, a gesture she very much appreciates. She might feel as bad as she did yesterday, if not worse, but she must admit she is quite fond of this more intimate treatment.
"I would rather they move on," she says, considering for a moment. "They won't be able to close rifts without me but they can still help in other ways that don't require me. I just hope they don't run into any trouble." Which is both sweet and hypocritical of her, given how often she tends to attract trouble herself on a daily basis.
At that, she has to smile sheepishly. If she weren't already flushed from the fever, she would be blushing.
"Well of course," she says, "because that's what I'm here for. Extended recoveries."
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Holding her the way he is, her head tucked in under his chin, he has to crane his neck to peer down at her. "Dear lady, with how you have been pushing yourself I am not so sure I shall not think you are merely jesting."
His rubbing of her back had halted just for a moment but he resumes it now, in slower, less vigorous and more comforting strokes. He breathes a sigh, closing his eyes and letting some of the tension drain from his body. She will be alright, with time and care. He will make sure she gets both.
"Try if you can to not dwell on the rifts. They will still be there when you have recovered and is better able to see to them."
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"I always do like to keep handsome men on their toes," she says, smiling. "A bad habit I've yet to grow out of, I'm afraid."
She lets out a sigh as his strokes slow, become more comfortable. His care and attention are doing wonders for her spirit, if not her health, as they remain comfortable in the tent. Or, as comfortable as they can be, at any rate.
Her smile turns a little wry, at that. "A little hard not to think of them, when I have a piece of the Fade stuck in my hand."
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He lets that topic go, though, both for the fact that he doesn't quite know how to reply to it - again, the foolishness of old men - but also because their conversation takes a more serious turn.
For a moment his arms tighten around her, as if wanting to provide comfort for the momentous and unasked for task that has been given her. But how does one express sympathy for something like this? The Fade itself, lodged in the palm of her hand. Even he, with all his centuries of life lived, doesn't really know. He doesn't want her to feel as if he pities her. He truly doesn't; if anything he admires her, for shouldering this burden and keeping her spirits high.
In the end, he ends up softly echoing words from the night before. "Remember, dear Lady, that you do not walk this path alone."
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His arms tighten around her, and it feels so wonderful; so warm and supportive, in a way that reminds her of the comfort she found in the embraces of her fellow mages that first night in the Circle at her young age.
She smiles, and without realizing it, she leans back into his arms, nuzzling him slightly.
"It feels good, you know," she says, in a moment of vulnerable honesty. "To hear that. I appreciate it. Thank you, good sir."
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And yet... Even as she nuzzles against him, he does nothing to create distance between them. Her breath is warm and sweet against his throat and for now, just for now he allows himself this brief moment to enjoy it, not helping matters at all by brushing back her mass of red curls.
"Please, just call me Regis. I would not call myself sir of anything."
He should get up and leave her to rest. Just as soon as he's sure she's warmed up. Just as soon as...
Foolish, foolish old man...
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"Regis, then," she repeats, her lips curving in a genuine smile. "I like it. It's not a name one hears too often, these days."
She sighs, and it's likely that her breath falls on him in some capacity, given how closely they are entwined together.
"Thank you, Regis," she says. "It means a lot to me that you're here with me."
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It is with a somewhat guilty feeling that Regis enjoys this moment. It has been so very long since someone last took comfort in his arms and he allowed in turn to find his own. He is finding it here, drawing his own comfort just as much as he's giving it to her, most likely. And he's not even the one suffering an illness, though admittedly, he is suffering a deep and prolonged weariness, and years upon years of solitude.
So he focuses on the senses involved now, to store away a detailed memory of the moment to recall another day; how she feels where she lay against him, her heat and shape from head to toe, her breath on his skin. Her scent, made wild by the lingering traces of wood smoke from their campfires, from the air of the mire and the rain. He files away every sound his sharp ears can pick up; her voice when she speaks, the air flowing in and out of her lungs, the steady and strong beating of her heart.
But... There is something more, something that had been hidden under the smattering of the rain against the canvas of their tent, some other sound that he can hear now when he's actively listening. Something from outside, something drawing nearer. Frowning he pulls back somewhat and pushes up to lean on one elbow, eyes at the small gap by the tent flaps. He can only hope that it is only some animal that will soon be on its way, but if it isn't...
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She's never really felt close to someone like this. Not in anything other than a friendly way, of course. It was a dangerous game, in the Circle, to develop feelings for anyone else; the templars could and did so very easily hold that power against you. And so she's rather used to guarding her heart more carefully than this. But something about Regis makes her want to open up; she feels safe with him, and warm. Like she can take a moment to catch her breath and not carry the weight of the world on her worn and weary shoulders, for once.
Aleanna herself is too out of it, still, to be able to pick up on the sounds of approaching intruders to their tent. But the scent of darkspawn...well. It creeps up on her rather suddenly, and even with her nose stuffed, she can detect the scent of decay and rot. Alarmed, she sits up abruptly.
"Regis, be careful!"
But a moment later, a gnarled hand is pulling back at the tent from the other side, and all peace and tranquility is, for the moment, lost.
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Where he had lain next to her is suddenly nothing but smoke, or mist perhaps, thick and gray and dark. It moves, twisting like something living, rising and staying gathered like a cloud. Then it rushes forward with such speed and presence even without solid form that it sweeps the still-warm blankets right off Aleanna. It hits the darkspawn even before it is fully visible with the sound of a body slamming into another, knocking the creature out and away from the tent.
Then there is the sound of battle, but not like those the group has fought in their travels. There is no sound of magic, of spells, no sounds of weapon striking. No, this is different. This is the sounds of claws against claws, ripping and tearing; wet, awful sounds.
From the moment Regis had joined them he had stated clearly that he is not a fighter. But he can fight and now he does, because he must. He fights like the beast he is by nature; the veil of humanity fallen aside to reveal hands where claws like blades sprout from his fingers, his face monstrously twisted, eyes solid black and bottomless, ears swept up into long points and a mouth full of nothing but sharp teeth.
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