Something had compelled her to wake that morning -- a sense of urgency that transcended her drowsy mind. Brow furrowed as a quiet groan shuddered in her throat. It was a safe assumption that the world was still asleep; the interiors of their bedroom were still muted with the presence of night. Her consciousness was merely half-kindled as she shifted against the sheets, searching for a sensation to mark her existence in the waking world. Stillness was heavy over her skin, prickling with a sense of unease. Awake in those moments, she was out of place. It was instinctual, the way her chin angled to get a look at him -- the need to reassure herself of his presence. As her half-lidded eyes found him, the tension seemed to melt from her face, and her shoulders slumped in open relief, tugged farther away from the worry that seemed to vibrate against the base of her skull.
"Arkanae," she quietly murmured, inhaling deep as she nestled closer to the sanctuary of his side. It was not that she sought his wakefulness, but some sort of reservoir for her relief, some solid something that gave it merit as it swelled so suddenly in the cavity of her chest. Even with the veil of night so firmly secured, she could have sworn she could yet smell the sunlight on his skin. He was warmth all his own, beyond that which spilled so easily in his proximity. Perhaps it was some trick of chimerical yearning, but even still it settled placidity over the lean cords of muscle that stretched and wrapped themselves between each curve, from bone to bone. For a moment, she had forgotten the reason for her open eyes, their soft luminescence weaseling through her barely parted lids and painting her cheeks with an unassuming fel glow.
Yet, something stirred in her gut, a discomfort that ached in the delicate swooping basin of her pelvis, and radiated up into her stomach. Where moments ago she had sought the blood knight's warmth, she now found it overwhelming and sensed a dampness upon her countenance. It was the promise of an uncomfortable sweat, her body caught between balmy heat and an unforgiving chill. Elbows propped themselves behind her as she found herself sitting lazily upright, seemingly losing her center of gravity as she gave a near drunken wobble, and swallowed a warm rush of saliva as it crept into a hot pool beneath her tongue. Immediately, she knew the action to be a mistake; whatever rotten sway had fallen upon her innards rejected it for too heavy. In her daze, her muscles felt almost rubbery, barely cooperative as her legs swung over the side of the bed. Toes pointed until they found the floor, carefully leaning her weight upon them. Palms pressed her upright as she made an uncoordinated and rushed shuffle to wretch the taint that unsettled her insides.
An eternity could have passed; she had lost track of time. It became something measured in the erratic pulse of shivering and the growing ache of soreness spawned of the continuous heave of her abdomen, presenting spasm after spasm with a need that eventually produced nothing -- not even her own fluids. A continuous misery that she only saw momentary relief from before she was snatched greedily back into its clutches, helpless to the ebb and flow. The faint misty feeling of perspiration that had initially reminded her of her discomfort was now completely undeniable, drenching her in an evident gloss.
By the time she made her way back to bed, crawling weakly back atop the bed dressings without a care to cover herself in them, the room had begun to show hints of coming day -- a day which she found herself much too fatigued to meet. When she was able to slip back into an uncertain slumber, it was a fragile one. Rest had lost its appeal in all but the form of an escape from the anguish her ailment laid thick upon her body. Perhaps even her mind knew her to be too tired for nightmares, because there was nothing but emptiness to greet her in the darkness behind her lids.
