the book of love is filled with... screaming?

She was more than dazed, and her foggy gaze did not rest on his features as she stilled. Bourbon softly continued with his mantra, which seemed to be working slowly. She did as he told her, and he was quick to notice her breathing began to even as he told her when to inhale and exhale. The worst patients really were healers, but his mistress was run ragged enough that she submitted to his instructions.

He wasn’t sure if he should do anything else for her, and her certainly couldn’t speak. His chant was far too important. One step at a time, he was calming her riled nerves now. The next would be to get her somewhere safe and start rebuilding her strength. He didn’t miss the tiny portions she ate, if anything at all. He knew the frantic look in her gaze as her control spiraled out of reach. She needed stability in something, and the best he could give her was himself.

Bourbon dared to gently place one of his feathered paws upon her shoulder. He’d held her tightly before to keep away the traumas. He knew that he’d overstepped then, but couldn't help but to use what he had seen to be effective. The dog pushed away his desire to hold more tightly to mistress, the thought was inappropriate, and if he wished to linger in her service they would need to be dissipated completely.