another one bites the dust

Maea

And time it waits for no one
It heals them when you die

Fragrant aromas filled the air. Sharp tangs of herb and spice, of chemical reagents, of boiled linens and a faint underlying tang of old blood, and the soap to scrub it off. It seemed all the infirmaries in the world smelled the same, and somehow that notion was a little comforting. Not everything was twisting out of her grip, disappearing like so much smoke.

"I see. Well. Then no. I guess nothing is alright at the moment."

Shii drifted down onto the hand, and settled on it for a moment. Though it looked like flame, like light, it was weightless, heatless, neither hot nor cold. Barely there at all. It did not find anything interesting in the man's palm, and its glow darkened into a sullen blue as it took off, muttering grumbled protests into Maea's mind - utterly soundless, of course.

Maea ignored it. Stretched out on the bed, she kept hiding away her eyes. Didn't answer for a long time, and could as well have fallen asleep in an instant. But her breathing betrayed her; it grew shaky and uneven, softly shuddering. Then... "I think I'm losing him, Loren," she said, voice thick; and half hidden under her arm, a tear stole away from the corner of her eye.

It shouldn't be too difficult to figure out who the 'he' was.

And soon you are forgotten
A whisper within a sigh