[center][h1][color=lightblue]Cilia Cosgair[/color][/h1]

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[url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4922486]Link to Cilia's Sheet[/url]

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At they fled, Cilia was filled with emotions - Fear, Anger, despair, wonder, grief, and many others all at the same time. She could feel the pain in her arm throbbed as they ran. Each heart beat letting her know she was still alive. She was grateful that the bleeding had stopped. Not even realizing the wonder of how her body could heal itself. The swords and shells did not give her much time to think. She still not bleeding was a good sign at the moment, and she would take any hope she could fine.  
  
As they were running through the city making their escape, Cilia kept her eyes open for things that were small and would be useful. She collected just small things that she could hold or tuck into her blouse. A hand axe dropped in the dirt from a tradesman. It was a weapon that she thought she could use. She claimed a dagger and water skin that was thrown when one of those evil shells exploded killing their owner. A wrap of jerky from outside a butcher’s shop, dropped by someone cut down by an undead warrior. If she would try to stop to grab something larger, Snow would push her on with words or step on what she was trying to grab to get her to move forward and away from the danger. 

As Cilia did this, she felt conflicted, knowing that they needed the items and knowing they were not hers. In her mind, even the dead needed to be paid back. She would have to ask Ferris and Snow what would be appropriate to pay back to those whose things she had picked up. Living right now was what was important. 

Towards the end of the run, Cilia worried that the Barrister might be struggling. He was in good shape, but running distances was not something that Barrister’s did often. When he stopped at the large rock, she was glad. Her breath was coming in pants and her feet, wound, and side were hurting. Running for any length of time takes a toll on the body. With big breaths between each word she answered his question in her own way, “Water, food,” she panted a couple breaths then continued, “salt, and hide for a bit.” 

In her mind water was the most important thing they needed. They were hot and she had seen people die from sweating from fevers. She knew from experience that if they did not drink enough their leg muscles would start cramping and they would not be able to walk tomorrow. This also was common for people with the fever. 

She held out the water skin for the others to drink from, hoping it was holding water, not oil or something worse. She would drink last as she wanted to drain the whole thing at that moment. Once she had drunk a bit of oil because of the hunger she had felt and she learned an important life lesson. The laxative action was intense and oil tastes awful. She wanted to die from the cramping the oil caused and from the teasing by the older street people. This made her think that they were all probably dead or as good as dead. She started to cry quietly for them, wiping the tears with the back of her hands. She tried to pass out strips of the jerky, cutting it with the knife into long thin slices. When she and her friends were breathing normally, she ate last and only a little. She was use to being hungry and she wanted to make sure the rations to last till they got to where ever Fergus wanted them to go. 

Her body was telling her to find a cistern to find more clean water and to allow them to rest for a bit in the coolness. But she would stay with the group either way.