When she says "maybe," it sounds like "no." He simply nods his head with a quiet "hmm." as he tries to ward off that persistent feeling of guilt. It is the answer he expected if not the one he wanted.
Eik quivers with a fever he will later know as magic sickness. Too much magic spent too fast. He will experience this again one day, and again a third time, and on the cusp of the fourth he will learn to recognize when he is digging too deep into his reserves, when he needs to stop. But all he knows now is that his body feels burning hot one moment and frozen the next, and he does not know whether he wants to lie down in the snow or stand by the fire or escape consciousness into a deep slumber.
Eik tries to take Teiran's advice and keep his eyes open. His vision is hazy, like looking at the world through a pane of frosted glass, and it takes a dizzying effort to focus his gaze. In the end, it is his ears which keep his eyes open. The sound of her voice is calm, solid, almost a little flat. His eyes rest on a table, or maybe it is the floor, and his ears rest on the soldier. The sound of her voice becomes something like a meditation.
"What is worse, to freeze or to boil?"
"To boil." It is not a comfort to him. "To burn," he clarifies after a moment, because he knows how slow a death that can be.
He does not want to think about it.
"Can you keep talking? His eyes flicker to her but only partially see. Her voice roots him, but he isn't sure how to say this. He hopes she understands, or even if she doesn't-- he hopes she obliges. "Tell me something about yourself."
I have let myself go where the dust
E I K
Has the color of nothing
art by Footybandit
@Teiran
Time makes fools of us all
