Naaghai Lowlands [m] triple dog dare

it was a face she should have known, a voice she should have recognized. there was awareness on the still, staring face, but it lapsed back into the patient voidlike expression of one waiting for death. silver. "plata," she rasped, "tia plata." by everything, she was exhausted by the concept of emotion, by speaking to answer. she could feel the fever baking inside the thin oven of her flesh and desperately grabbed for it, wanting to drag the heat up and over her face. mouth gaped, jaws parting to say something else, but it crumpled wordlessly on her tongue and she did not attempt again. for now, silvertongue was mercifully separated from the pain of consciousness, awareness, memory; each breath was her focus entire.