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[h1][b][i][color=Gold]Rhys Asher[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/378688333867646976/422255485312565259/df0f62f8c2142e8ad9d0dec68836d9f6.png[/img][/center]
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[center][color=Gold]Location: His home[/color][/center]
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Rhys ran his hands through his touselled hair that was appearing more brown than red from a lack of washing. He should the wizard knew, but he was loath to leave the apprentice he had taken on. A responsibility and duty he had not looked for. A tool to wield to his own means, yet a tool that went both ways for Rhys had grown to care for the boy known as Badger. Pressing his hands together between his knees the rogue Wizard looked at the brew of herbs that seemed to ease the boy's pain. While he tried to appear patient and bored, there was a pucker of worry about his brow as he stared at the grey skinned, black eyed boy who thankfully was asleep. 

He had gone to see the Messenger Rats constantly. Badgering Fluer about the plague of strange sickness that had dared to strike down his apprentice, not that he said it was his apprentice who had been lain low. Rhys, however, could not deny his messages had carried more than a mere note of worry and the constant barrage of the rats were probably irritating the Witch Mother. He had shared with her his failures and successes. Oh, of course there were things he held back. Small tidbits that he wasn't sure of. Hints of things. While he was desperate, he didn't fully trust Fleur. The woman was now the Witch Messiah on high.

And it unnerved him.

Running a hand over his face, Rhys stood up and stalked from the room after casting his spells to conceal and protect the room. Spells of warning and watching as well, in case something went wrong with the boy. Food and water were in easy reach. Spells to ease his pain and ease some of the humility of being bed bound. Rhys shook his head. [color=Gold]"Fight it, bo- Badger. You got your name for a reason."[/color] The gruff wizard encouraged in his own bleak way. [color=Gold]"I've got a errand to run and then I'll be back."[/color] He wanted to tell the boy not to worry, to not get worse. But what would those words really do? Show his weakness, and it was something Rhys balked at. As a man and as himself. 

Settling the spells in place he thumped down the stairs and out the door onto the street, hastening his way to the Wizard's Tower and the Castle proper. Perhaps some tome or scroll existed. Why'd he risk exile, imprisonment, or death over one boy was something that was lost on him. Rather Rhys had convinced himself this was all for his own health and well being if he did fall ill with the damned plague. Casting a Disguise spell about himself to give him a plain face and hair, something that would be easily forgettable or look like it belonged. Rhys however was careful to make his eyes a bright, innocent green. Though he could do nothing to hide the worry in them.

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[h1][b][i][color=Lavender]Skaoi Silverveil[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
[img]https://www.tribute.ca/news/wp-content/uploads/2014/12/galadriel1.jpg[/img][/center]
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[center][color=Lavender]Location: Palace - Traveling to Infirmity[/color][/center]
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Skaoi gave a small sigh as she lay amidst piles of books and notes, smudges of ink staining her fingers and one cheek standing out starkly against her pale skin. Her usually pristine clothing was stained and creased as she stirred weary still from a long night spent pouring over books and notes and trying different mixtures, seeking a cure for the Sickenesse. Her hair, usually neat and straight, was a messy braid that had seen more work than care. Blue eyes which were lively were pale with weariness and her face was lined with worry. The physik had been working herself to the bone and beyond in the past months to try and ease the grip the Sickenesse had on it's victims. It had gotten to the point she had left her home in the Forest to live- temporarily anyways= at the Castle in the Servant's Quarters.

Rubbing at her eyes, and unaware she was making a mess of herself giving her already shadowy late night side effects more of a ringed look, Skaoi looked over the notes she had been working over when she had fallen asleep. Ink had been smudged and there was a bit at the tip of her pale nose= dabbed at constantly as she had been nodding off as she had tried to keep writing. Keep working, she thought absently. Find a cure. It was her path. Pouring herself a glass of clean water from a jug, she drank heavily before turning back the work before her. 

Pushing aside the ruined notes Skaoi peered at the tome she had been reading from. Her slim fingers absently soot streaking her hair as she brushed aside the formly pale locks. Dibbing a pen in some ink the woman set about noting the Burning Fever- an apt name. A Coven Mother had suffered an uprising which had tried to use the disease to lay low their leader, but it was they who had fallen. To ash to be specific. With a sigh, Skaoi stood and plucked the book from the table as she wandered from the stuffy room she had been given. Her feet tracing the path to the infirmary, skittering about people as she studied the pages carefully. 

Her own notes tucked beneath one arm had it's own brand of information. Apparently Magyk herbs helped, but the dose would only grow with time. A stay over, nothing more and thus useless in the long run. The Sickenesse was not spreading like other diseases, something the Physik was grateful for. Had it not, she would be finding herself elbow up with the dead instead of just four bodies. Her lips turned down into a frown at that thought. She disliked loosing patients. No, Skaoi hated it. Hated failing those she was supposed to help and heal. Rather, Skaoi paused in mid-step saving herself from running into a wall, it seemed to be haunting the Magyk users. Greedy for the power that dwelt within them. For the use of magyk connected all the victims.

Turning from the wall she continued towards the Palace Infirmary, her nose almost glued into the book that revealing secrets she devoured. Hope that she craved to spread to her patients. Yet fear gripped her heart as she read the words 'Sleeping Dead'. A Dark Wizard who tried to take on the Founder, was it?, of the Wizard's Tower when it was first formed. Her face would go pale if it could, Sleeping Dead did not bode well. Was there something more to this ash? To this death? Her hand fumbled for the knob on the door to the room she had been travelling to as she reread the passage in the book.