Darragh awoke beneath the stars having only been half-aware of how he had even gotten there. He was still deathly exhausted, to the point where he knew he had been running on adrenaline as he and Colette descended the walls of Kilbell, but he couldn't be altogether certain how he'd ended up in this small clearing just outside this cave. Surely the two of them must have had to have made it here after their escape, but certainly he hadn't the faculties for such a thing. It was simply another question to ask Colette when he saw her; though, for her own part, how much had she been her own right mind? She'd had some sort of seizure, rendered unconscious, and then underwent similar strain as he had; who was to say that she hadn't been in the same boat.

For that matter, who was it to say she was even safe in that moment? He recognized this fact as his eyes strained to adjust to the stars overhead, his eyes just as tired as the rest of his body, it seemed; Darragh tried to twist his head, but soreness bit at him, causing him to pause his movement entirely, a seething grit of his teeth accompanying the motion. "Bit". That's right; he'd been bitten, by the last person he'd ever expect to bit him, at that. He tried to lift his left arm to examine what was sure to be a rather grotesque scene, but even that proved to be an impossible task, his arm proving too heavy to move. A sigh left him as he shut his eyes once more, contemplating trying to sleep once again and simply whittle away the hours rather than simply lay here in his pain. With them outside of the city, it would take a couple of days for the Magisterium to entirely search the town, giving the two of them ample time to reach Fardenn, which was beyond their jurisdiction. Perhaps a bit more rest was a risk they could now afford.

Still, he couldn't help but notice the weight at his arm, where Colette's fangs had so deeply torn him apart, wondering what must be going on there. It was wholly foreign - surely, without limbs, Colette couldn't possible have fixed a poultice or bandage there. He bore the brunt of his soreness as he pulled his head up, twisting it to examine his arm, though, upon examination, his brow instead curled in confusion more than anything, perhaps with a twinge of surprise.

A piece of his clothing, perhaps bitten and torn away, had been wrapped haphazardly around his arm. With no ability to tie or sew its ends off, Colette had instead utilized her head as a weight to leave it fixed there, explaining the weight he felt, resulting in her lying there in the space between his arm and torso, ostensibly for the purpose of his health, though he nearly chuckled, musing at the carnival of thought that must have plagued her mind until she had settled upon this option.

Still, he felt comforted, not for any reason beyond what would have been ascertained before. Comforted that they were still free to continue their journey on their own terms. Comforted that they appeared to be, relatively speaking, okay; although, he was certain he had yet to understand the entire breadth of his aching pains. Despite this, he found a certain comfort, still, in Colette's presence there. Not simply in his presence, but- beside him. Where he could protect her- where she could protect him; even if those fangs had only ever been used on one person.

This time, he couldn't help his chuckling, quickly stopping himself before eying Colette, careful not to disturb her sleep. It was, however, for naught, as she began to stir as a result of his rustling chest, causing her eyes to blink open lazily, peering around as though to gain her bearings.

"Morning," Darragh spoke quietly.

As thought a switch had flipped, Colette recalled where she was, and much, much more importantly, what she had been doing, in an instant flailing away before losing her balance and skittering away onto her back, finally reorienting herself along the edge of the cave entrance, "It-! It's-! It's not what it looks like!"

"So, you weren't keeping this- shirt bandage affixed?" Darragh intoned, reaching over to examine the now loose-fitting swath of fabric.

Colette paused, "Okay, it is what it looks like. I was merely- I fell asleep, I suppose."

"Uh huh," Darragh nodded, "Well, I did too, and for some time, so- I don't have much right to question that." He slowly, and painfully, sat up, grimacing and grunting as he did so. "Gaaah... You know, I've never actually been to Fardenn. It better be all it's cracked up to be. I'm talking a spa, baths, feasts, the works. All free, all as accessible as the eye can see."

From her far off position, Colette didn't even bother to correct him, inching closer, "I suppose it's no hurt to imagine the works."

"Oh, yeah. Human bodies," Darragh added to his wistful list, nodding contentedly as a sudden pain spun through his side, causing him to seethe a heated breath, "Gah... Gods, that smarts."

"You should really focus more on your arm," Colette noted, her voice dark and quiet, obviously ashamed by her role in its presence, "Soreness will go aware, but infection can..."

Her voice trailed into vapor, leaving Darragh to take her word into consideration as he reached over to his raked arm, pulling away the makeshift bandage, "Fuuuck."

It looked as if he'd been flayed. He could barely stand to even look save for the bits of salve that had remained from some earlier attempt at medicine, causing his eyes to narrow, curious.

Colette's voice was weak, "I'm sorry..."

"Colette," Darragh spoke, "It's fine."

"No, it's not! Look at you!" she spoke up, nearly in anguish, "I did that!"

He shrugged, "Considering the alternative, I-" He watched Colette's head fall, sighing weakly as he frowned. "Always lemons with me, I know."

"This isn't even the first time I've made strides on this journey at another's expense! Mearachd, who the fuck knows what punishments she's had to endure. Now you have to bear the punishment for me to continue along. This isn't how I wanted to do this!" she cried, "I just wanted my body back, I- I didn't want to hurt anybody else..."

Darragh bowed his head, taking in her words, simply listening. Carefully, he pressed his good hand into the dirt, pushing his already sore body across the soil, closer toward her. Just within reach of her, he reached around her serpentine frame, pulling her into a sidelong embrace that sent her head whipping around toward him, nearly slamming into his face, though she didn’t immediately yank herself away.

“What are you doing?!” she shouted, more in surprise than anger.

“Thank you,” was his answer, a low, tender sort that Colette wasn’t sure she’d ever heard from him, “All of your worry about harming me or tearing up my flesh or- whatever. Thank you.” Her eyes narrowed, confused, compelling him to continue as he lowered his head, smiling weak as he did so little contemplation as he spoke, figuring she deserved little beyond his immediate feelings. “I’m not in this for money, or glory, or anything of the sort. You asked me what my insecurities were- I’m a nobody. I haven’t any particularly decent skills, I have nothing in the way of prospects. I’m naught but a blip upon this world that, were I to disappear today, few would even count that a devastation.”

Colette eyed him severely, though remained beneath his embrace, remaining trepidations, as he went on, “So when I see people in need- I don’t know. It doesn’t take much skill to do; although, I guess you’re certainly proving me wrong in that respect. I see the rich, princes, dukes, bishops- they have so much more with so little to show in terms of helping others. You know, maybe in some way, it’ll be something to make me worthwhile.

“I’ve had nothing but losses in my life, and helping you- I don’t know. Perhaps it’ll be something I can call a win. Something to hang my hat on,” he tugged at his lips with a meandering placidity, turning wayward eyes toward Colette as she watched him, skepticism turned to empathy.

“Why are you telling me this?” she wondered, quietly.

He shrugged, smirking, “Well, I figured you needed a hug, and I wasn’t about to cross a boundary without allowing you to cross one, yourself, so-“

“How noble…” came a groan from Colette as she hung her head, though, again, she didn’t pry herself away. Instead, she watched his arm, the effects of her transfiguration – the effects of her own helpfulness. Whatever good that was.

She muttered, almost as a whisper, “You should- really fix that wound up.”

Nodding, Darragh acknowledged as he removed his arm, “Say no more. I can still take a hint, even in my injured state.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the gesture. Even if it was mostly shock, rather than comfort,” Colette spoke, her voice just wry enough to earn her a chuckle from Darragh as he fixed his attention onto his wound, “I don’t- I don’t get hugged often. or at all.”

Darragh nodded, “I would imagine that’s a difficult thing for many men to separate from the friendly and the- otherwise.” He turned a glance, expecting a joke or pithy comeback, though it didn’t come, his gaze only coming to a wringing expression upon Colette’s face.

“It’s a barrier I don’t often let- anybody cross,” she confirmed.

Lips tugging to the side, Darragh roughly spun his face, “I, uh- Sorry. I wouldn’t have been so forthright had I known how ingrained that was. I figured, if you were comfortable succumbing to sleep where you had, you might-“

He froze, realizing where his speech was leading. Evidently, Colette realized it as well, as she immediately began to stoke the flames of a new line of questioning, quickly pressing him on his wound care, “Infection is probably even more dangerous than the wound itself, Mr. Wynd; you ought not tarry in its care.”

At hearing his surname again, Darragh chuckled but refused to press the issue, reaching for the torn bit of fabric she had used as a rudimentary bandage, examining the wound itself, “It looks rather clean, in all honestly.”

“Well, I would hope so, I trudged a good bit to the river and back to do so,” Colette confirmed.

Darragh realized that had meant physically – however in the world that was for her in that body – crawling or rolling to whatever river she spoke of, taking a mouthful of water, returning, cleaning the wound, only the repeat the process however many times that meant. His heart ached at the thought of the logistics involved, particularly given her- physical inabilities.