Nova Peak blutbefleckt

"there vas a boy," mahler muttered nonsensically as wylla directed them over the uneven, puddled terrain. "he vas vounded vhen he came to help, and vounded again vhen ... he left." the gargoyle had been given no chance to hear @Yunxu's name, but in this moment, a strangling worry clutched clawlike at his sense of guilt.
her voice was firm; it dragged him back to present, set mahler in the moment. he wanted to tell her to be realistic — i am not a young man, vylla, something about the life he had led and how she must plan to be without him.
despite the application of the medicines, the gargoyle had been a physician for many years, long enough to understand that the spectre of death could come at the moment of injury, or after. infection stealing into one's blood; fever addling the senses.
yet the musiker felt his jaw too weak to gape with his insistence that wylla prepare for the end of his life.
perhaps then, a silver lining.
mahler blinked, realizing he had been silently plodding with eyes closed; he came back to himself, glancing down toward the woman at his side. "stay vith me." repeated for the both of them, the man supposed, fighting back a grunt of pain and continuing.