SPACE BOUND ROCKET SHIP

The seas wine red; This is the death of beauty

this is the time and this is the place to be alive

. . .


The male didn't seem to hear so good. It was as though he were hearing and seeing the world through a cloud of smoke. With a delayed reaction he scrunched up his shoulders and bared his teeth. But it was hard to know whether he was shouting at Champion, himself, or whatever ill feelings were going through his system. He seemed to switch from aggravated to interest to chilled to grinning as quick as breathing, however. If he'd had a different color for each emotion, Champion would've been looking at a blinking rainbow. No, this brute definitely needed some sort of help.

"-I seem to be a little bit lost." The male's speech now was so harmless sounding it bordered on comatose.

"Probably are," rumbled Champion, notching her brow. "But I know where a nice, relaxing stream is, just this way." When something was in the system that needed getting out. There were two ways to do it - dillute the poison, or have them wretch it up all together. Having had a years worth of training as a healer, Champion knew how to do both, but she doubted the male would like the second option very much. That pushed aside, his best bet towards consciousness was to hydrate and perhaps ingest a little charcoal from some of the burned trees around here. It would help absorb whatever was in him and keep it out of his blood stream. The male took a step closer; maybe in this state, getting him to follow her would be simple - but then he had another vision of sorts, telling her that her head was... fluctuating?

"It's a talent," Champion drawled dismissively. And then to his next question, she added, "Sir, I'm fine, I think it's you who needs a sit in the shade and some stream-water." And what was he talking about? Cayennes? Was that some sort of rotten prey or maybe some kind of plant she'd never heard of? Creator Above, this wasn't one of those idiots who willingly ingested poisons just to be a kick, was it? T'would be just her luck. Not that it mattered. More was going on that he could control and he still needed attention.

Unless he grew too volatile - in which case Champion had no qualms about dumping his butt and leaving him to stew in his own juices.


. . .