scratched lenses of my knockoff ray-bans

He wasn't wrong. Warrior stock was hardy, and if he came from warriors then it was more likely that he'd be physically stable well into old age. Still... how often did warriors make it to old age? Halo's thoughts moved swiftly. If his parents had passed away when he was young, there was no telling what would have developed as they aged. The tenderhearted girl nodded still, her attention on the warlord unshakable. Seven years in and his only physical ailments were the usual stiffness and soreness that came with age. Halo resolved to keep a closer eye on him, closer than the others. Sometimes it was hard to see the changes in someone you saw every day, but the healer was keen. In time she could only hope to hone her observations further.

Are you sure you want to go there? His question came. Halo nodded, her expression not wavering from the serious, analytical gaze. It was important that she understood him, at least as best she could. They were worlds apart. Hardship came to them in different forms, and it had shaped them differently. The tenderhearted girl longed to understand him... she had to try.

The story of the Warlord, the words were elegant, and Halo settled carefully as she listened to Sirius speak. Her chin rested neatly on her paws, a flicker of the ear she happened to have control over. Just over four years had passed since the outset of the tale, making him just older than she was now. The Warlord had spoken once in passing of his time as a slave. Now the details seem to come alive before Halo, in the space between them within his den. Though here physically, it's clear to the tenderhearted healer that Sirius was somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away. The look in his eyes, the way he lingers on the name... on her name. Deathbelle. She'd been important to him, and his tone is enough to send an ache dancing through her chest as well.

And then the tales of fever, the start of the dreams. The start of the night terrors, Halo realizes, as he continues. Infection had nearly taken him, but he'd fought it off... he'd fought it off at great cost. The cost is clear now, especially now. Zee had learned the dangers that the night terrors posed, though Halo hadn't yet been in close enough quarters with the queen to see the scars. Things had gotten better, and then they'd gotten worse. From the sounds of it, they'd gotten significantly worse. The stress of the queen's perceived death had been significant, and that was an understatement. Still, if it was stress that had made the night terrors worse... the pale healer was quiet for a moment more before speaking.

"Sirius, would you come down and sleep in my den for a couple nights?" Halo finally spoke, picking her head up from where it rested upon her paws. "There's um, there's plenty of space. I want to observe your sleep, and through observation I should be able to find ways to help mitigate the disturbances," the words came quickly. Halo's den had been set up so there was an abundance of storage space, and it was nowhere near full. There was plenty of floor space for a second nest to be laid, or however the Warlord would be the most comfortable. Still, if she could put him in a different environment and watch, then she could understand. If Halo could understand, then she could help. As always, in her heart of hearts, all she wants to do is help.

"Halo"