:Thanks.:

Then, to Felicity alone, :Is it rude if I take the rest of this to the stables? I don't want her to think I'm – sick of her, or anything. Just, it's all a bit much.:

:It's fine, she knows damn well she's too much.:

"Lissa, our guest is overwhelmed by human company after weeks of isolation," she declares grandly. "Say your farewells."

"Oh! Well, glad to meet you and have a good rest, then, gods know you look like you need one."

The stables are warm and smell like hay and earth and horses, surprisingly light on the grassy stink of manure. Sufya wonders if Companions are more continent than their tamed kin, then marvels at what stupid questions she thinks up. She leans herself against Astirian's flank and shivers a little.

"I'm worried," she says. "It's like now that I've got here, everything's real again. I could hurt him terribly."

Astirian whickers soothingly and nuzzles her. :You could help him, too. And I don't think anyone'd blame you for a mistake, not while he's hurting this badly.:

"I would."

:You're a worse critic of yourself than anyone else,: Astirian observes. :That's the specific "you", by the way, not general.:

"I don't think that's so wrong. I can't hold anyone else to my standards, but I can hold myself."

:Chosen, that's my job. The center of it, the part that never goes away. I know who you are, and I Chose you for it. I know that you're doing the best you can, and that you don't need to whip yourself over it if you fail.:

Sufya doesn't really have anything to say to that. There's a slightly dizzy feeling, like going for a step that isn't there.

Astirian can be there for her, where the missing step might have been.

Contemplatively, she finishes off her honeycake. (It's better than trail rations, by a long shot.)

Then she stands up. "I'm going to see what else I can do for him."

:Don't make a punishment of it,: Astirian sends.

"This isn't punishment, though. This is..."

She wonders about how to phrase it, then pushes the feeling through Mindspeech instead.

She has someone to lean on, now. Someone who can take weight off her shoulders, and tell her when she's taken on too much. And that makes her feel, suddenly, like she could do anything. And the thing to do, if she can do anything, is help Vanyel.

Astirian feels a burst of deep affection. :Well. That's what I'm here for.:

Vanyel's cell is approximately as she left it. She settles in.

Everything is still pretty terrible, even though he finally managed to sleep for a few hours. Honestly, the clarity from having slept might not be a net improvement.

Sleep is necessary for life and she's not going to let herself feel guilty for healing.

What else can she do? She recalls the burning channels. Can she look closer at those? Yes, she certainly can, that's disorienting when it's that fast.

Hmm.

She doesn't know what she'd do for wood in this condition. She's a hatmaker, not a handywoman. But even she knows the first step to cleaning after a fire is to stop the fire.

So: hello, little embers and sparks scattered through Vanyel's Gift-channels. What do you say to a bucket of water?

Now he's wet???

That isn't quite what it feels like, but it does definitely feel weird. But also he's in much less physical pain, even if it's starting to creep in again at the edges. He is, in fact, in a completely manageable amount of pain.

The thing to do about this is, he thinks, to cry about the incredible amount of emotional pain he's in.

That's... not really her department.

...oh, gods, but it is her department now, isn't it? She's a Mindhealer. She has to comfort this boy who barely knows her, going through the worst thing that could possibly happen.

:Chosen, breathe. You don't have to do anything you're not ready for.:

She... breathes.

She can't help Vanyel. Not with this. She's a scared teenager just like he is, there's no leverage. She could be someone he can cry on, but would he even want that? He's got his aunt and sister here.

...possibly what she should do is tell them.

:Savil? Lissa? Vanyel's awake:

Savil gets there first. "Vanyel – ashke –"

She embraces him.

He sobs on her, completely unselfconsciously. "Savil – he's gone –"

"I know, ke'chara. I know."