She would watch them clean the blood of his face, his lips slightly parted. Something had gone terribly wrong since she had last seen him... his body was so limp and unresponsive, and even as they cleaned him up, he seemed off, unlike the usual vibrance that he had in the castle.
She looked anxious, her brows furrowed slightly as she waited. She tugged her hair instinctively, feeling panicked.
The healers murmured among themselves before leaving the cell, frowning uncertainly. Ben did not stir.
The elves looked at each other before one of them looked down at her. "He is recovering," she said gently. "But something... something's wrong. It's hard to diagnose right now while he's unconscious."
She got up and looked into the cell, observing him anxiously before summoning a claw, using it to brush his hair back gently from a distance.
He stirred slightly, mumbling something that was hard to decipher, but he leaned into the touch instinctively.
She slowly sat down, leaning against the bars as she controlled the claw, her gaze tired. It continued gently stroke his hair.
He remained the same, but perhaps his face relaxed a little more. Besides that, he was still, his chest still rising and falling with shallow breaths.
He coughed, trying to breathe but failing. He tried to sit up, but swayed back, his arm buckling as a support.
He was unable to respond, his chest heaving as he was struggling to catch a breath. As she watched, she would see him roll off of the cellbed and land heavily on the floor, but no noise escaped him except a raspy breath.
Her relief turned to fear again, and she turned in a panic, dashing up the steps a ways as she called loudly for help, her tone fearful.
