The mixture of the overwhelming perfume of incense, the sweetness of the wine, and variety of culinary delights felt surreal. He'd not travelled across the ocean in so long, yet despite its similarity to his home and the culture they had brought with them, the strong mixture of all aspects on all sides felt like a long forgotten memory just remembered. The smell reminded him of his youth as his parents travelled across the Second East, a time before they encountered the strange and rigid culture of the nation they called home now. A place that was not just cold in climate but cold and unforgiving, as if all had no desire beyond the walls of their  community. Here, the world felt alive; at least to Rhoynar.

He was giving his suggestion for their next move, ripping apart a small clustered selection of leaves entangled with dough when Illinfer suddenly grabbed onto his wrist. Whilst he wasn't opposed to the contact, her unexplained and oddly unnatural behaviour startled him. Perhaps it was obvious on his face, he considered and worried so as her expression seemed to shift into something of worry and panic. She slumped over the table, muttering to herself yet despite it all her hand never seemed to cease its grip, squeezing tightly like a snake.

"Illinfer..." He questioned quietly, gently pulling his arm in the hope she may release and allow the blood to flow freely again. It was the faint struggling of her breath that changed his course of action as he noted how laboured she appeared to be becoming. Rhoynar had noted to sign of illness during their travel over the ocean and after such time online, it seemed a strange time for nausea to take hold. "Is everything alright?" He questioned hesitantly, shuffling forwards in his seat.

"You're going to faint if you don't breath, you need to take a deep breath, slowly before you collapse." Perhaps had he known exactly what his companion was suffering, he may have understood the precise nature of the help she required. Instead, he remained uncertain, knowing no little more than the risk of her falling unconscious. Of course, he wasn't entirely unfamiliar considering the vivid nature of his recent nightmares though he failed to realise that.

Rhoynar eased himself from his seat and reached for Illinfer's other hand. Once in reach, he tried to pull her hand towards the air, as if to encourage her to look towards him. 
"You need to breath right now, or tell me precisely what's going on. Just try to focus on what I'm saying, and slow down. Everything's going to be fine. It may seem strange here but the medicine is no different, if you do need a Doctor, it will be alright. Just try to slow your breathing down." He let her hand drop and raised her cup. "Here, drink instead, just a little at a time."

His unconscious thoughts considered strange and wild theories as to her sudden breakdown. Untamed paranoia grasped at poison, allergies, or even the first signs of a devastating illness. Yet, they had drunk from the same unsealed bottle: poison wasn't an option. They had shared company during the journey and he shared none of her visible symptoms. 
"I don't understand, its just wine..." He murmured as he briefly glanced back at the bottle, his hand still cradling the her cup.