Delirium seemed to effect them all at some point. It had nearly hit him before now, but now it was really getting him good. He was hardly aware that he was lying prone in the same place that it all began. Blood pooled around him, draining from the bone plates that grew and shielded him. One day they would kill him, lock into place and crush him, he was sure of it.
If this plague didn't kill him first.
He was so damn hot again, inside and out. His heartbeat was so slow, pushed to stubbornly pump from the molten blood forcing it to. Those bloodshot black eyes were closed, lips parted with weak breaths. He was probably dying. Rhonen got him good this time. That bastard. At least he'd died first. Gonna call that a win.
It lifted the corner of his mouth so infinitesimally. The line of his body was blurred in a haze of heat. In random places, a small flame would flare up and lick across him only to snuff out just as unpredictable. He was too numb to notice, too lost in this heat that felt like he was finally getting sent to hell. Bout damn time, really. He was burning up.
Maybe the effects were made stronger by being here, where the ground had been soaked in Rhonen's blood and disease and an extra dose of magic. He wouldn't have a clue how he'd even gotten here unless it had called to him somehow. The delirium was real. Maybe he'd blame Leliana less for walking away. Maybe. When he could think again, see again.
There was a shadow slowly stretching over him, and he groaned so softly. "Zoryn," he rasped. He'd lost him. But Zor came back. Good. He could sleep now. Zor would guard him. He sighed and drifted into that strange sense of vertigo and peace as another flame lit across his hip, another on his belly lapping around the edge of bone armor protruding out of him.
The light, too, was there. A soft orb floating near then clinging into his hair, illuminating the stardust specks of white on his neck beside his left ear.
we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Lord, we should quit but we love it too much
