Only the Good Die Young

As Sephiran turned to the herbs that he had set down, he offered a coy response to Aresenn’s own observation of the toxic herbs he likely didn’t have with him. A half-sided grin tugged the edge of his lip when confronted with the satire of the situation. “If you’re implying that your preferred method of murder is poisoning, I’ve been given the wrong impression.” Aresenn rebutted in amusement. It seemed like he had heard something about laughter being akin to medicine. Well, he wasn’t laughing. But he was certainly healthy enough to banter back and forth. When he was given the instruction to take some of the stock Sephiran had been carrying around, he wasn’t about to argue. But before carrying out the treatment, he would answer the invitation for insight as to how he got into his current condition. “Well. Winter on its own isn’t so bad. The near drowning didn’t do me any favors, though.” Aresenn mused, before chewing up the remedies given to him. Nothing about what he was prescribed to ingest was pleasant. Though, had they been flavorful he would have been more concerned. Of course, he was already riddled with boredom and frustration from his current state. He considered asking for a time frame of improvement … but eventually decided against it. “Thanks.” The Praetor boy muttered lowly, offering a stiff nod in something that resembled appreciation.

After spending some time alone to figure things out, he was glad to have run into the other individual he had been passively seeking out. The time for reflection was coming to an end. Now, he felt they were approaching a high cause to attend to. “What are you doing up here?” Aresenn asked casually, doing his best to suppress a cough. What’s the plan?

"Aresenn Praetor"
1670 / 1500 words