[ His fever seems to be causing his temperature to rise, and with it, Aymeric seems to float between states of awareness and thinking he's somewhere else... thinking he's with someone else. He's not losing his mind, nor his sanity, but his injuries and the lingering infection causing his fever are bringing to mind memories he thought he'd managed to bury.
Apparently he did not bury them as well as he had thought.
His lips move, and at first, no sound comes, but after a moment, he says something in a whispered tone. A name. Not her proper name, but the name that most people knew her as. ]
Alkaid. [ But no sooner does he say the name then more confusion seems to pile itself upon him. Alkaid belongs to another, still a Miqo'te, but different in appearance. The woman with him now has lighter hair, and she is smaller but no less beautiful. Aymeric has yet to realize it, but she could be even more beautiful than she is, if cared for properly.
But perhaps it is too soon to have even the beginnings of those thoughts; Aymeric's dragon bite is the least of his worries, and of course, how could Phya really know of it? It is a conversation they will have to have, when both of them are capable of having said conversation.
He dimly registers her speaking again, saying something about needing to fetch something. If he had the voice for it, he would direct the household staff to fetch her whatever it is she needs. It takes some effort on his part to gather the strength to open his eyes, and further effort to move, but he manages the smallest of nods, hoping that it is enough to convey his agreement. But he has something else he wants to convey to her too, and again, his fingers curl against her hand, barely managing to hold hers, but the gesture is meant to imply he would just as soon have her stay with him rather than have her expend the energy to care for him.
The fever will break on its own, or it won't, but he would rather her remain nearby than spend the time fussing over him. If not remaining nearby, then surely she could see to having her own needs met. The staff could use something to do besides lingering around waiting for something to happen. Perhaps they could cook something for Phya, or draw her a bath, or... anything she might want.
Still, he imagines that she has her mind made up, and after a few seconds, his fingers uncurl from around her hand once more, as if agreeing to whatever it is that she sees fit to do. ]
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Apparently he did not bury them as well as he had thought.
His lips move, and at first, no sound comes, but after a moment, he says something in a whispered tone. A name. Not her proper name, but the name that most people knew her as. ]
Alkaid. [ But no sooner does he say the name then more confusion seems to pile itself upon him. Alkaid belongs to another, still a Miqo'te, but different in appearance. The woman with him now has lighter hair, and she is smaller but no less beautiful. Aymeric has yet to realize it, but she could be even more beautiful than she is, if cared for properly.
But perhaps it is too soon to have even the beginnings of those thoughts; Aymeric's dragon bite is the least of his worries, and of course, how could Phya really know of it? It is a conversation they will have to have, when both of them are capable of having said conversation.
He dimly registers her speaking again, saying something about needing to fetch something. If he had the voice for it, he would direct the household staff to fetch her whatever it is she needs. It takes some effort on his part to gather the strength to open his eyes, and further effort to move, but he manages the smallest of nods, hoping that it is enough to convey his agreement. But he has something else he wants to convey to her too, and again, his fingers curl against her hand, barely managing to hold hers, but the gesture is meant to imply he would just as soon have her stay with him rather than have her expend the energy to care for him.
The fever will break on its own, or it won't, but he would rather her remain nearby than spend the time fussing over him. If not remaining nearby, then surely she could see to having her own needs met. The staff could use something to do besides lingering around waiting for something to happen. Perhaps they could cook something for Phya, or draw her a bath, or... anything she might want.
Still, he imagines that she has her mind made up, and after a few seconds, his fingers uncurl from around her hand once more, as if agreeing to whatever it is that she sees fit to do. ]