Naturally, Alessia avoided the revisiting of old trauma - somber caves, the metallic essence of blood and picks, the festering rot of sickly bodies, all wet with sweat and tears. The mines were many years ago. Though the blonde's face brought her no memories of her cruelty and apathy (on the contrary, the opposite), it still held association to a horrible setting... one that had held other forms of cruelty and apathy. Alessia swore the mines would live only in the many dark corners of her mind, untouched and forgotten with so many other old traumas. She had not sought out her fellow Iskaran on that ship. The irony of their second situation spent in chains and servitude together had not escaped Alessia, but she had refused it time or audience. That would have been counterproductive.
Her limbs, however, did not refuse aid in Haven. Alessia briefly clung to the assistance, instinctively, before staggering over her own embarrassment to right herself. "I'm fine, I'm just fine- oh... you." Her tone, instead of any disgust or resentment, was a mixture of shock and resignation. If Alessia hadn't been pale enough, she immediately lost more color. Realizing this woman's identity stunned her enough that she did not continue fighting the helpful support; it was impossible not to let her arm bump right back into Sylvie's and lean on her. Sylvie. Alessia had not learned the woman's name from her own lips, but from all the commotion on the Kossith vessel instead. Once upon a time, Alessia didn't need to know the name of any other unfortunate soul stuck under Iskaran rocks. Most of them became uninhabited bodies anyway. It was mere luck that Sylvie hadn't too.
"It's just a fever. Something something about malnutrition, stress and bobbing around on the ocean for days. Healers said I'm fine. I just need... err..." Despite every attempt to seem coherent, her mind felt slow and foggy. "A seat. A seat is fine."
"A seat? Well, that's easy peasy, orange squeezy." That was the saying, right? After contemplating it silently for a moment, she shook her head - silly sayings didn't matter right now. All that mattered was making sure Alessia had everything she needed to get better soon.
Sylvie scanned the surrounding woods for anything that might double as a chair, bright blue eyes eventually landing on a stump a few feet away. It wouldn't make the most comfortable seat, but perhaps Sylvie could find Alessia a new one once she was less dizzy. The blonde could maybe carry her, if she tried hard enough - perhaps harnessed some of her infernal strength - but she'd sworn off using her powers after the Kossith had tainted them even further.
"This way! Nice and easy, darling." Slow and steady, Sylvie guided the Witch to the nearest stump, one girl clinging to the other as they crunched through the snow. Gently, she helped Alessia sit down, making sure she was stable before finally removing her touch. Sylvie was somewhat of a healer herself, but again, was too scared to even attempt to channel the One God after the atrocities she'd committed in the Kossith's name, lest her pleads go unanswered.
However, a good school teacher always had a backup plan for any ailments - bumps, bruises, scrapes, fevers. The idea set her in motion quickly, as she took off her scarf and began piling snow into the soft fabric. Once she had enough, she returned to Alessia's side, and carefully the packed scarf against her forehead. "Ice packs can fix almost anything, as long as you think it's working." Usually the placebo was more effective on toddler brains than well developed ones.
