where it all began

Whatever sickness she was afflicted with was nothing like Eyrún had ever seen. The blue ooze leaking from her face was strange, almost nightmarish; she only hoped this didn't signify the end of the world. It'd be a shame if her son wasn't able to live a full life, one much fuller than she had. "You're not dead, but if you keep lying there you may as well be," she spoke with the same tone she had in life, not entirely cold but with a razor-sharp edge. "You need to get up, and keep fighting. Don't lay down and die like I did." She wondered if it would have changed things, but it didn't matter much. Once a wolf was in the afterlife there was no way to bring them back, at least from her understanding. The mention of Veigar made her chest clench painfully.. how long had it been since she'd felt emotional pain? Physical pain was something too far from her mind to recall, but emotional pain had always been worse, all-consuming and not easily ignored. "Veigar. Is he well, then? You owe it to me to watch over him and keep him safe," she reminded her, a touch more warmly now. She didn't mind shaming her though if it meant she'd fight whatever sickness was threatening to consume her, threatening to consume nearly everyone - she'd say whatever it took to keep her fighting. It wasn't like she could do anything herself. Even if she found him now she worried she wouldn't be able to speak to him; already she felt herself phasing in and out of this world, her vision intermittently fading in and out as she stood there and stared down Aryn.