Contemplation required focus, and for that, she needed an ideal environment. The Hollow, while her home for the time being under Alex's rule, wasn't exactly her "ideal" place to contemplate as she had to feel closer to Maua than normal. With that in mind, the colossal cleric made her way with precision of mind to one of few locations she felt closest to the creator: the flowerbeds.

The gardens had not changed since the last time she had been here, their blossoms still enough to make her heart happy at the sight. Brilliant hues of red, yellow, blue and pink peered out from beneath rich green stems, creating a beautiful assortment of flowers to behold. This, just like the grotto, was Aelynthi's happy place. The shaman let out a relieved sigh as she settled into the masses of flowers herself, almost completely immersed if not for her head peeking out atop the blossoms. Quiet contemplation at last.

@Roarke

His bite is poison!

Roarke hadn’t believed it, but he does now. He did early that morning when woke to his body beginning to sweat, his head pounding like the worst hangover he’d ever encountered, and then - then the voices. The voices come and they don’t stop. They drive him from his den, from the Summit. He does not stop when he slips down the mountainside, determined to outrun the accusations slung his way by dead and missing lovers, children, family and friends. Even his enemies join in, demanding to know how he dares carry on while they rot in the ground.

He does not have an answer, and he cannot outrun them.

The giant has no idea where he is, but in lucidity he would have known. He stumbles through the flowers, not seeing them for what they are, gasping and panting as his exhausted body struggles to keep him up. Roarke groans lowly, feeling his body begin to give out, his great strength leaving him -

And he sees her.

The voices had not taken on a visual form, but Roarke can’t tell the difference between his nightmare and reality. She is just another voice, another angry soul -

"Why you?" He croaks as he staggers to an uneasy stop, swaying on the spot. "I never did anything to you -"

And then he falls into the flowers.

@Aelynthi

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The wind fluttered past, carrying with it the scent of many more of the flowers around her. For a moment, it's easy to forget the stresses of life, especially of recent....or at least it is, until the footfalls of another draw her attention from her relaxation. She rises to a stand in cautious alert, pivoting her head to examine the groaning, ever-growing closer form of @Roarke. Something was off with him, the stagger and sway in his step something dreadful. It's a miracle he's gotten this far honestly with whatever plagued him.

All of those thoughts quickly subside as he lets out a rather offensive exclamation. Why you? I never did anything to you --

And then he falls towards the ground, his hefty form crushing flowers beneath him as his body hits the earth with a thud.

What the absolute fuck? Even though she's hornet-mad at this accusation of his, she can't help but throw herself forward in an attempt to examine the situation and hopefully save the life of her occasionally-visiting friend. Aelynthi leans her head down close to his, and before she can even begin to look him over, she's met with the smell of something dreadful. It's unfamiliar but there's no denying the smell of death...and his symptoms, they lined up well enough she could assume he had ingested something he wasn't meant to.

She knows he can't hear her, but it matters not as she grumbles complaints at him directly. Pen-channas! A newborn babe has more sense than you. Maua forgive her., insulting a barely conscious friend, albeit fool in this moment. She makes quick work of gathering chunks of charcoal and a coconut shell filled with water. Moving him...however, would prove itself a task in and of itself. The charcoal elf struggles, but in the end manages to lift his head enough to slip her rock of choice underneath for elevation purposes.

Roarke... if you can hear me, you better swallow this or I'll end you here and now, Maua be damned. She whispers to him directly, lips nearly touching his ears. The shaman gently breaks the charcoal chunks down into smaller, more manageable pieces for him to chew and swallow. If he failed to chew it, she'd just have to flush it down his throat in the water. As softly as she can, Aelynthi attempts to pry open his lips to shove a couple of pieces of charcoal into his mouth. It was disgusting, but it would do the job...she hoped. There was a lot she was gonna have to do if it worked. If it was already into his blood stream, there would probably be a bigger issue at hand than just some simple charcoal cleansing. It was a start at least... better than leaving him for dead in the flowers.

It sounds as if he is underwater - miles under the ocean, perhaps. Swallowed by the sea. Perhaps this is what it is to die. Perhaps everyone returns to the depths, in the end. @Aelynthi sounds as if she is above the water, muffled and far away, her words unintelligible noise. Of all the voices, however, hers is the only one left. The others fade away, until it is just her.

Furious, angry - but it is her.

It’s instinct more than conscious thought that makes Roarke choke the charcoal down, the black sticks to his teeth and gums, but most of it slides down his throat. The taste is vile, dry and bitter. Somewhere under all the water, he knows she’s helping.

Maybe she’s real.

But then, all the voices are too. They grow louder, as if closing in.

"Aelynthi," the giant mumbles, blinking up through the depths, unable to bring the elven woman into focus. "Don’t let them take me."

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It feels as though an eternity has passed before she can see some semblance of life still remains in her friend. The only answer he provides is the audible albeit choked swallow of the charcoal she had shoveled into his mouth and a hefty breath of relief evades her before she can even stop it. He even speaks, although what he asked of her was a confusing conundrum for Aelynthi -- who was the they he spoke of? She decides to worry about it later, offering him a slightly softer confirmation he can hear. I won't, I promise. I need you to drink this please.

The next step meant she could not talk anymore, as she picked the hefty water-filled coconut shell up to help tip some of the precious beverage into his mouth -- to clear away the dry grime against his gums, and to make sure it got to its intended target. This was going to be no cakewalk, that was for sure. The shaman woman pauses then, hoping to let the colossal man catch his breath after the drink she had offered him. The charcoal, if it served its intended purpose, would begin slowly absorbing what poisonous waste had been pumped into his system and hopefully would save his life.

What can he do but as he is told?

@Aelynthi swears to keep the dead from dragging him to hell, or wherever he is destined to go, and he must believe her. In his fever-induced haze, there’s no choice. He drinks blindly, choking a little as his swollen, raw throat burns, but he does manage to get it down. Roarke’s chest heaves as he takes every painful breath, but the hurt is distant. Eventually, it and everything else fades.

It might be moments or hours later that Roarke stirs again. He wakes suddenly, lurching to his belly as he begins coughing up bile and heaving as his body rejects the contents of his stomach. He groans, cursing everything, not entirely aware of where he is or how he got here - he’s cold, covered in sweat, and every part of his weak body aches.

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Things seemed to settled, for the time being. It wasn't a pretty process dealing with situations like this as a healer, but ultimately she trusted that she was able to help him enough to keep him from dipping his toes between worlds.

It's calming almost, listening to the now steadier breathing of @Roarke beside her. Flurries of questions still racked at her brain, the most pressing of them all; how? How had the strong man she'd come to know ended up poisoned? After a while it had been easy for her to settle in, hefty head rested on crossed forepaws as she waited for anything; for better or worse, his condition had remained very stable since he had fallen asleep.

-- time skip forward 6 hours to early evening, just past sunset --

Hours pass before anything changes, and things go from very calm to very stressful to very relieving in only a few short moments as the colossal pirate lurches to his stomach only to throw up everywhere, in what Aelynthi assumes is a purge of all the bad things that had found their way into his body. As the vomiting begins to lull to a stop, the charcoal woman shuffles to settle in beside him, directly leaned against him in a show of comfort. I know you just threw up like a week's worth of stuff, but how do you feel? She leaned in carefully then to gently sniff at the closest part of him she could, noting that the smell of decay seemed less potent. Surely that was a good sign?

He doesn’t notice his company until his stomach empties, and she presses to his shoulder. He starts, jerking back a few inches, massive skull turning to spy - her.

@Aelynthi.

"You’re real," the giant murmurs, his head clear for the first time in what feels like an age. The voices are gone, and Roarke can see them now for what they were: symptoms of infection, and a guilt ridden soul. "Aye - I’m fine." It isn’t a whole lie; compared to how he was before, he feels a hundred times better. Compared to his usual self… he feels like shit.

Roarke shifts, groaning as his weak body protests even sitting up. "I just need rest." Years ago, he feels, he would be fine already. His age is creeping up on him.

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For a moment, she worries that perhaps he wasn't completely sound of mind yet and his startling flinch was the start of an impending fight... but she watches as the mottled man slowly relaxes as he realizes that she is not here to harm him. Not that she would ever, but he was surely convinced six hours ago that Aelynthi had been the one to do this to him. I am very much real, yes. She muses softly, peridot eyes transfixed on his face for a few moments as he seems to gather his bearings. Would you like me to fetch you some herbs to soothe your stomach? The charcoal I gave you is doing its intended purpose.. but that doesn't mean you have to suffer the nausea that will come with it.

The shaman is unable to dote on anything more than her purposeful duty to save others in the moment, unwillingly to indulge the happy feelings budding inside at his recognition of her, that he has not forgotten her from so long ago. If you'd like, I can watch over you some more. I have nowhere pressing to be; consider me yours for the night! The colossal woman does not move from her post, remaining rooted against the ground in case her colossal patient decided to do stupid things and fall over.

His head clearer, Roarke can recall most of the days before this moment - but the hours that have passed are blank. Had he slept? Had she watched over him? He can only remember the endless need to keep moving, to stay ahead of the souls of the dead trying to capture him. It had seemed so real, at the time, but now the worst of his illness had passed, only she remains.

The girl in the flower beds, from so long ago.

No longer a girl, however; grown, mature, and considerably more capable than she once was. Roarke studies her for a moment, wondering where those years between now and then had gone. He had lived multiple lives since then, loved and lost and lost some more - what had she done? Where had she gone? Or had she always just been here?

He has the energy to laugh, a low snort of hot air through his nostrils.

"I’d much rather have you for a night I am not so weakened," he replies, in no state to truly flirt - or anything else. "I… would like a bath, however. Is there water near?"

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