Thankfully the chair that Ashton smacked wasn't her own, because when it hit the wall it made a loud clanging sound that had Cressida close her eyes. He wasn't hungry? She begged to differ. He was viciously angry but she knew its root came in hunger he inflicted upon himself because of what little he could do and the lack of change in Barclay's condition. She heard him stalk away and breathed out slowly, opening her eyes to watch his back and the way he responded.
He was trying to keep control. Trying very hard. Cressida picked up the scent of brimstone in the air and she wanted to show tenderness to him but she also knew that it would leave her open for him to think he could walk all over here.
Not in this house.
"I know," Cressida said with absolute patience in her voice, "But you have other needs that must be met as well. Not eating accomplishes nothing and does not contribute to the improvement of his condition. If you continue in this way, you won't be alive for him to see whenever he does wake up." Cressida didn't want to use the word "if" when talking about Barclay waking up or not. Faith guided her stronger than ever, praying to her goddess multiple times a day, especially in this month, that he would wake soon.
She rose from where she sat, moving the plate of food to the side and then walked over to him. Cressida didn't reach out to touch him just yet, but stood close enough that he might feel her presence there, "There are some that worry about you, Ashton. Ones that would not wish to see you waste away when they feel as though there's something they can offer. Sit. Eat by his bedside. You don't have to leave but if you are going to stay here, you'll need to eat."