my heart's on fire—anditsdefinitelynotbecauseofyou

Nairn was cursing even louder, when he watched her step right through a rotten plank. She'd always been so clumsy; that was a big part of why he felt like she needed someone in the shadows looking out for her. The man that had originally shouted for her, waved worriedly, and he grumbled to himself, slamming his clenched hand against the dock.

If he could just find the strength to shove himself upright, maybe he could make it to an eluvian. He didn't even know what she'd be able to do; his ailment wasn't... well, nobodies been able to solve it with magic just yet.

His vision blurred and he settled on the ground fully, one arm keeping him upright. Don't need a healer. He murmured, quietly as she neared the group of people. Just need to get up. Quiet-spoken, gaze directed to his lap. He couldn't tell if the nausea that was creeping through his core was because of the malfunction or because of her proximity and the fear that she might discover who he was.

No, he needed a healer. Just not this one. Anyone but her would do. But he wasn't abrasive enough to dare brushing her help off. Especially not here, where his options were truly limited.

As she neared him, she'd probably pick up on a variety of symptoms that would seem to suggest a heart attack. He wheezed quietly, the hand pressed against his midsection reached to rub at his chest, the metal was too hot.

The crowd began to disperse once the healer arrived, and he grit his teeth. This was definitely not how he'd wanted her to find out he was alive... well, he'd never banked on her ever finding out. He'd been content to watch her live her life from the shadows; had accepted that she was starting to move past his 'death', that eventually he'd watch her settle down with a family for herself. She deserved that life, uncomplicated and simple. He was just a complication. This malfunction was a simple complication.

She was standing near enough now that he could smell the salt-water from her now-wet boot. Help me to a mirror. Got my own docs. An eluvian; most Thedas locals did not call them their given name, but mirror or window more commonly. He didn't look at her, his gaze stayed on the ground. Hiding like a coward behind his hair. He thought he might be able to stand up, now, if he took it slow. And he repositioned himself, first to his knees, and then one foot... then to standing. Though he was relying a lot on a crate that was next to him, to keep himself upright, evident by the way his fingers were death-gripping the material.