When she was sure that she was done getting sick, she handed the bucket to Moira to be set aside. Though there were irritations over the fact that this illness had taken so much from her and so much time away, there was little point to focusing on that now. The fact was that if she was going to be of any use to anyone she needed rest. Of that Moira was right.


The idea of sleep made her feel nervous. Her chest tightened at the thought of closing her eyes again and her fingers reached out to Moira for grounding once again. Her rational brain new that she was safe and her body begged her for rest and sleep. With a deep breath she breathed out the fear.

"If I rest, will you wake me?" She would agree to sleep, but she needed the reminder that it was only the sleep of the living that she would be falling into.