Faolan was in a daze as Lucien knelt beside him. He raised a hand to push the boy's hands away, but didn't have the strength to resist. Every little movement brought the silver closer to his heart, and him closer to paralysis and death. The walk up here had done more than enough damage, and he was growing weaker by the second as the pain increased. 

He felt warmth then, which at first was soothing. Instinctively, he tried to relax his muscles to make the healing process easier, but a burst of agony caused them to tense again. White hot pain erupted from the wound, and he could feel the toxin begin pulled from his veins. The pain was immense, strong enough to cause him to growl deep in his throat. His hand shot down to grip the frame of his cot and his arm began to shake with the effort of staying quiet. Sweat dripped from his skin, and his legs were shaking. His vision blurred, and he felt like the pain would never end.

And then, suddenly, it ended. He heard faintly the clang of the knife as it fell to the floor and he blinked to clear the fog from his eyes. He had been wheezing, but he fought to return his breathing to normal. After a moment, he felt his strength returning, but he was still a bit wobbly. 

At Lucien's question, he shook his head. [color=a36209]"Silver."[/color] He kicked the blade away from him and it skittered across the wooden floor. [color=a36209]"Throw it overboard."[/color] He nodded toward the blade  and clutched his side. He was sore, but the pain had subsided and he felt his focus returning. Whatever the boy had done, it had neutralized the poison. 

As Lucien moved passed him to retrieve the blade and follow his instructions, Faolan's hand shot out, still stained with a mixture of soot and his own blood, [color=a36209]"What did you do?"[/color] Both his grip and his voice were intense, and his green eyes blazed as he looked up at the Frenchman for once.