[ She wishes the adventure she mentioned was fun. Mostly, she spent the aftermath trying not to add to her death count. But, again...nothing she really needs to go into.

As she watches him eat the feather, a weight seems to lift off her shoulders, and she feels so much better. Mentally, anyway. Having less worry to bear was only making her physical woes more obvious. She blows out a sigh as the good feelings fade fast, grimacing at how her room had started to look like a crime scene, too. ]

You owe me a million cuddles right now. Give me only one or two and I swear I'll find a way to dig that feather back out of your throat. But, whatever. [ Another sigh. ] Just stay there and let it do its thing.

[ With that, she turns and disappears from view. There won't be any coming back immediately, because she's opted to do things the hard way. The price she's paid for being nice kind of sucks now.

But she makes her way through, reemerging about an hour later, bandaged up and in a robe, though the sudden cessation of her dramatic cries probably signaled she was about to come out beforehand. Her bathroom looks like a bloody hurricane went through it, but she leaves it behind. It'll get taken care of in the morning. Or never.

Slowly, achingly, she creeps into the bed, trying to avoid the dried blood spots she left behind. And with a wince or twenty, finally, finally, she gets to curl up next to him. Quietly, she whines. ]

I changed my mind. You're not biting me anymore. Ever.

[ It's the regret speaking, loud and clear. But like any addict, she'll eventually forget it. Probably by the time she wakes up, knowing her. ]