Aithne does not mean to look so startled or disgusted nor does she wish him to have seen such a look. It is just that she had never experienced such sickness. Andras had been sick in a way that wasn't entirely bodily but more of the mind. She was unsure how to deal with it. The smell was awful, her own belly clenching a few times as she grimaces. Maybe they would need to find a temporary new den before they could clean this one out? Or just make a new one. She would discuss the option with Praetor later - what else was there to do? Still, she makes sure to pull Lazarus clean of the mess. There is some mingled with his fur and paws but that was nothing that could be done for that just yet. She needed to ascertain that he hadn't accidentally eaten something that was poisonous. She settles down and lets him press into her chest, sighing deeply in her own fear and craning her neck so that she can look down at her pup.

This was one of those moments she regrets having let Aster run off with Pine. At least then she could make the girl fetch some water - somehow - to bring in so that she could at least rinse her mouth out after what was about to occur. His whine makes her leg twitch and press closer into his haunch, reaffirming that he was still there, that she was also there. Her ears fall back in chagrin at his next words, feeling for all the world like a fool. Disgusted with herself for the pitiful way that he talks - while Lazarus was not healthy like his sister he was keen and observant. And she was decidedly lacking in the area of reticence around him. A low growl escapes her mouth, more anger at herself than at him. "Never apologize to me Lazarus, not for something you cannot help. I am.. sorry, I am not used to such things. Do not worry about it. Your father and I will clean it up and we will make sure you get better."

Then she did what she dreaded doing. She began to clean his face, squeezing her own eyes shut when the taste bursts across her tongue. Aithne is strong, mentally, and she reminds herself of this as she washes him, swallowing several times to try and erase the taste from her mouth. It hovers there still but when she feels he is somewhat clean she pulls away, discreetly swallowing a few more times. "Did you eat anything you weren't supposed to, Laz? A bug, a root, anything? I must know, to make sure it is merely a sickness and not something else. I will not be mad, I promise," she says, and once more feeling disgraced, she lowers her head and rub her nose against the side of his cheek. Emotions for her are difficult - saying them out loud even more so. It is touch that helps her express it, caresses.

Nine - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne