V'Rin
He carefully wrung out the soaking wet cloth, the water he'd gathered was cool to the touch. He twisted back to the sleeping body beside him and carefully removed a cloth resting across his patient's forehead. He replaced it with the one he'd just freshly prepared, his fingers lingering a moment before he sat back and sighed, hands folding in his lap. "And just what am I supposed to do with you? All this way I've come and you're trying to die on me." His tone was ripe with accusation, as though the male before him had gone into battle with some sort of death wish.

V'Rin sighed, fingers drumming idly on his knees. "This is quite boring for me, you know." Talking to the unconscious body had become something of a habit, as it was easier than sitting there in silence. The conversations weren't much different, from what he could recall, from when Istanell had been conscious. "So maybe you'd like to wake up again." He'd done all he could with the herbs he had on hand, with the limited knowledge he possessed.