Weary, and yet she is determined to see her brother to recovery. She had left him within her temporary haven in the south to be overseen by his siblings as she pursued some form of help, having departed at the break of dawn whilst a deep slumber had overtaken his feeble form with a whispered promise of return upon velveteen lips. Although twilight now encumbers their realm, it is a sacred vow she has fulfilled--willowy appendages propelling her with the carriage of a forgotten queen as she retraces her steps through the various regions she had journeyed through on her paramount mission for a cure. A duty she had imposed upon herself as her family?s leader turned conquest--a bundle of medicinal herbs ( or so the Armada sovereign claimed them to be ) swaying, pendulum-like, between jaws that would otherwise annihilate. They hold little malevolent intent during her current and dire circumstances, however, and the banshee?s typically murderous mindset is quelled by the fear of loss. With the untimely demise of her mother ( and even, she hates to admit: her father ), she has learned that death is a probability that even those of her supreme bloodline face; and although this prospect has left her hardened, it has also taught her the importance of familial devotion. They are hers, and she is theirs, and she refuses to allow either of them to succumb to an early death like that of which her parents had faced. With the silent prowess of a lioness she descends through the mouth of her enclave, bearing the solution to her brother?s ailments within clenched jaws. Briefly, her abstract gaze ravages the interior of the cavern and locates the slumbering forms of her vigorous siblings ( blessed little dove and hellion ), offering them no more than a lingering glance before her pupils seek her sickly brother. As she pinpoints his haggard form, she maneuvers towards him, careful in the placement of her paws so as not to disturb her remaining two siblings before halting adjacent to where he lays--a crumpled heap of frail flesh and bone. Discarding the remedial concoction at her paws, the wraith seeks to lightly nudge her brother?s shoulder with a cold and leathery nose, hoping to stir him from whatever dream consumes him--her movements gentle but adamant. ?Novo,? vocals are a goading murmur she whispers into his ear, right forepaw seeking to fall upon his steadily rising and falling chest cavity. ?Novo, wake up.?

The boy was sleeping, the only respite from the sickness and even then it was only temporary, violent shaking waking him every few hours and even when he was soundly asleep horrible hellish nightmares plagued his fevered mind. He was in one such nightmare when Art approached him, weak whimpers escaping him as his legs twitched, then he was jolting suddenly and violently as she pushed her nose into his shoulder. For a moment he wasn?t sure where he was, cold and covered in sweat the boy thought he was once more back in the silver woman?s pack. Then his sister?s familiar voice was speaking his name and it all came rushing back. The boy weakly lifted his gaze to meet his sister?s mismatched one. The boy opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a small croak and some wracking coughs. He coughed the worse just after waking up, his lungs feeling like they were going to burst just before the hacking stopped. Talk like this