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The room's second occupant, Shigeko nearly made your jaw drop from the sheer presence of her existence. Hers was a skin of dark inky blue with a tallness that easily eclipsed your dad: she was wearing one of his long winter sweaters and it barely went past her belly button. Said shirt being simultaneously too short yet too large made you realize the poor woman's health, she's lanky and unnaturally so; hints of ribs peeking from her shirt and the <span class="mu-i">wrongness</span> of her height with the visibility of her bones was... you could see too much, thankfully her long dark blue hair acted as another barrier. The broken horn on her forehead all but reinforced your heart with empathy or perhaps pity you weren't certain of the distinction.
No wonder your dad acted so rashly.
''She was working on the medicine...'' The blue woman's voice is hoarse, fatigued.
''Here.'' Your dad walks gently bringing a cup of freshwater toward the sick mothgirl. ''Drink a little, get yourself ready for your medicine so you don't choke midway, that'll be your last fit for a long time.''
''T-thank...No need for bathroom, already went.'' Gods, her voice, her slow movements as she takes the cup with all four hands squeeze your heart. She starts taking slow, careful sips and coughs out most of them.
Meanwhile, your dad walked toward the only table in the room to prepare the cure. The other Mamono looked downright miserable as she observed her friend struggle, her unnatural thinness gave her this vulnerable aura that... gods, you do want to help. Where is the distinction between genuine empathy and pity?
''Shigeko, right?'' Eyes as blue as her skin look up to you. ''You know about Clerics of the Paths? My father duty took him all over the Allied Kingdoms and I've stuck with him... pretty much my whole life.'' A sudden coughing fit from Seyraphal interrupts you. ''We've stumbled into more than our share of...abusive situations and always reacted like good brothers of our gods.''
''We're strangers to Eichenwald anyway.'' Dad continues, carefully holding the wooden cup, stopping next to you. ''If it wasn't me, she'd have jumped to your rescue.''
''Ah.'' He pats your head and you honestly wonder... would you?
''I can only... offer thanks.''
''If your honor demands repayment, we'll talk after you regain your health. Warrior species bounce back incredibly quickly right?'' Dad doesn't wait for the awkward blue girl to reply. ''Let's concentrate on you, Seyraphal. I think we caught Mother Earth attention today.''
Defiance, helplessness, and acceptance seem to meld together on the mothgirl features, everyone in the room gives her all the time she needs for her courage to return. ''Thanks.'' Is the only thing she can say. It is a slow, laborious process for her to finish the whole cup but her few coughs don't waste any large portions. Once consumed, she lowers herself on the bed, trying her best to relax and avoid choking.
