Ghost Story

[GamesMaster]

"Please, I'm scared, please drink the antivenom I brewed." She only presses the vial more urgently against his lips. "It's been all day you've been throwing up."

[Varric]

Antivenom? Can't be. Out (stupid horse). Where? Wait, brewed? She brewed? He stares at her for a long moment, skin slick with sweat and far too pale but eyes sharp. Finally, without a word, he lets his mouth go slack.

[Marian Hawke]

"Thank you," Emma whispers as she pours the liquid down his throat. It tastes like mint, not like the bit of crackling cinnamon he usually expects, but the cooling numbness washes over him, and he can feel his muscles relax at long last as some of the symptoms ease.

[Varric]

Varric manages a faint smile as he allows himself to drift back off. As he does, he tries to make a mental note to tell her to remember to turn widdershins on the third simmer. Both work, sure, but stirring that way cuts the herb taste by a good third. And makes it last two or three weeks longer too, which is probably more important, even if it lasts for ten years minimum anyway. I thought she said she didn't know how to brew...

[Marian Hawke]

He wakes to a cool, clammy feeling on his forehead; it withdraws as his eyes flutter open, and Emma sits back, frowning at him. "Are you alright?" she asks quietly. "I did everything your book said, I promise-- please be alive."

[Varric]

(I did everything you told me to. Please be alive. Please.)

 "Doesn't look like the Hells, so yeah. Alive." Would have been a fairly witty reply, though rather dark and revealing, but his voice is too raspy from minor dehydration to be clear. He coughs softly, then swallows to try and wet his throat.

[Marian Hawke]

"You're alive!" Emma practically sobs with relief. "Hang on, I'll get water." 

He manages to sit up a little as she does, and when she returns, he's able to take the cup from her in shaky hands and drink some without her help. She watches, wiping at her eyes, clearly relieved.

[Varric]

"Alone?" He winces, takes another long sip. "Spider. Only one? Okay?" Throat and lungs feel almost seared (a toxin could cause and exothermic reaction with the mucus membrane), probably necrotizing. Seared feeling from scabbing, suggests healing. Good. Need bed rest or Restoration.

[Marian Hawke]

"I'm fine. There was only one spider. It looks like you killed it before you collapsed -- what were you doing fighting spiders in the middle of the night?"

[Varric]

That... is a very good question. Why did I-- "Lightning. But wasn't." He growls softly, hating how hard it is to focus. "More wails. Followed to that room, saw," he hesitates, then goes with, "magical manifestation. Arcing light or energy. Figures."

[Marian Hawke]

"Weird. I didn't hear anything," she says slowly. "Do you think it was the spider?"

[Varric]

He only considers it for a moment. "No. Magical but innate only. No spells. No illusion. Barely intelligent. Probably investigating too."

[Marian Hawke]

"So there's something... else living here? something dangerous?"

[Varric]

Varric frowns as he gives her a confused look. "Said killed it."

[Marian Hawke]

"You said it was magic -- so something cast a spell? Something that wasn't the spider?"