may the bridges i have burned light my way back home

Isla take your medicine He broke your wing in the jungle. It goes unsaid, Isla focusing instead on the fever heat rolling off him. She takes the blankets as he shrugs out of them, folding them to set them aside, especially as he grabs the paper and pencil. Isla shifts to lean down and sit beside the chair again, watching the lines as they emerge, as they bleed into one another, as they disappear off the page entirely in some cases. "I see," she murmurs, not daring to tell him that it makes absolutely zero sense. "Keep going, okay? I'm going to fetch you something to help you cool down." Rising to her feet, Isla is honestly unsure whether or not it's a good idea to leave the room, even for a minute. But the medicine is having more of an effect on him than even she might have anticipated, and so needs must.