Her shoulders were tight and she was staring straight ahead, clutching the blanket in her hands. As he watched, the shaking began to seize her and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes.
She nodded slightly, her hands pressed to her face. "Yes. This happens. It's alright." The Berdling settled on her lap, looking a little disgruntled.
She shook her head. "We get these... you might want to take notes," she said with a small laugh, setting down her hands, which were trembling uncontrollably. "I'm not quite sure why... but I'd imagine it is related to the blood circulation during REM cycles... They're these... I guess you might call them a panic attack. An inability to breathe. We start shaking and get this high alertness; this heightened sense of fear that sharpens our senses." She glanced over at him for a moment before looking straight ahead. "For example, I can tell you had a cinnamon roll not too long ago. You have the crumbs on your collar and you smell like cinnamon."
She shook her head. "I've been dealing with this for a long time," she said, petting the Berdling absentmindedly. "Don't worry. It's passing."
"Well.." he said, taking the Berdling and putting it in the habitat and backing up back to her, "just.. close your eyes."
The Berdling was frowning, if that was possible, his small eyes narrowed as he sat on Basel's work desk, his tail swishing in aggravation. Anya's eyes widened and she stood up, coming over to the Berdling. "Oh, how clever you are," she cooed, picking him up and cradling him. The Berdling relaxed, purring slightly, but it seemed to shoot a glare at Basel.
It made a noise of indignation. It sounded almost like it had the cadence of a meow, but it was gravelly and throaty like a frog.
He went to the habitat and removed the food and water, setting it on the table. "Don't worry. You don't have to go back in."
