Madeleine gave a brief, nervous laugh at that thought. Had she been anyone else she didn’t think she could have woken up at all. She could still smell the burnt flesh of the people she woke up among, never mind those she burned later. “There is every chance I made up for that by putting someone else in hospital instead, but I can’t be sure. I did provide the crematorium with some much-needed help, though. Pre-emptively.” She was rambling. She was rambling because he had sat down, and she knew that he had already declared he was very tired, but usually would he not simply take a seat on his own? Not that she believed her suggestion somehow took anything away from Zaviar’s independence, but—‘Madeleine.’ For a moment the elemental paused. Had she just been partially reprimanded by her own blessed familiar? No—Althea was right. She was thinking too much and she needed to get a glass of water. Dropping a light kiss on the top of Zaviar’s head, she removed herself from the room, seized a glass and filled it as fast as she physically could – without deliberately taking haste into consideration. Everything she was doing seemed to be on a faster setting, as though she wasn’t ready to stop yet in case everything came crashing down around her ears. Thoughts that Althea monitored but did not respond to in case she got literally burned out mentally.
“Would you not rather a jug of water? Even I’m hydrated.” Which said a lot, both in that she did not particularly like drinking water for reasons she deemed bloody obvious and because, as a fire elemental, her element had not upset any inner balance as it had with everyone else. Though she supposed it helped with healing as well. She offered the glass as she sat, still ready to spring up out of the seat should he decide he needed more. No one could be surprised if he did. “Almost everything aches to some degree. Like I fell off a horse one too many times… into a pile of dead bodies.” Madeleine tried incredibly hard to shrug nonchalantly. It wasn’t working the way she wanted it to. “I now fully understand why they call it ‘dead weight’. And I’ve not sprained anything, my ankles just ache from being blown over in stilettos. They ache whether I’m stood or sitting, so I hardly see the difference. I’ve nothing but scrapes and bruises.” There was a distinct lack of concern for her own welfare. Madeleine had decided she was fine and that was it. It was, to be fair, more or less true. Maybe she had been effected psychologically, but she would deny it till kingdom come unless one mentioned the indignity that was someone trying to kill her with anything involving her own element. Stupid bastards. “This is definitely demonic too,” she added pretty much out of nowhere, smiling faintly. “Apparently demons can tell before the little darlings are even born.” Oh, I wonder how Mama will react to that. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” She wanted him to heal. Needed him to.
‘And then,’ Althea went on to add, ‘they would kill each other over Zaviar. Madeleine would never share.’