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"The meat," he replied quickly, very convincingly "We drow do not eat meat. It is poisonous to us. I thought I might have been okay just drinking the liquid, but no, apparently not."

This was turning into downright deception. Still, it couldn't be helped. He needed to get out of this any way possible. Any repercussions could be dealt with later.

The nausea refused to recede completely; an acrid, burnt taste lingered. He took a few more deep breaths, and was considering asking for some water when he noticed the priestess was hovering by the fridge.

"No!" he cried, shooting to his feet "I... that is, I'm not hungry anymore. In fact, I feel rather off."

That, at least, was no lie.

"I apologise, but if it's all the same with you I may go and rest for now," he didn't, however, wait for a reply before moving off "I'll... lie down. I'll let you know once I feel better."

With that, he was gone up the stairs, practically leaving a trail of smoke behind him. Thank god that was over! Being in the house so far had been no more than one long ordeal for him.

He paused outside the door to Coline's room. No, that wasn't quite right. It was more like blundering through a cavern with only a few solitary rays of light - Coline - piercing through the ceiling.

(Of course, as he could see in the dark the metaphor was not entirely apt, but he still felt it was appropriate.)

With a small sigh, he reached forward and turned the knob, pushing the creaky door open. Its progress was immediately impaired by the obstruction of an armful of boxes heaped on the floor just inside. He peeked in, and saw that the 60-or-so gifts Corie had carried had been tossed haphazardly into every corner of the room. No wonder Coline had been such a short time shifting them all. Still, it hardly mattered, as they'd be opening them all up soon enough.

He picked his way over the boxes, to the bed. His weapons were soon dumped ungraciously on a spare corner of floor, clearing the bed except for Coline's small stack of clothes topped by her gold pouch. He treated these with much more care, picking them up like a sleeping child and placing them gently on the nearby table.

Perching on the edge of the bed, he folded his arms - and was shocked by the bare skin under his fingers. Just as he'd predicted, he'd managed to completely forget about the indecency with his mind preoccupied by other things. Now alone, it hardly mattered... but it still made him uncomfortable, and what was the point of being uncomfortable when you're alone?

After considering for what felt like a few minutes, he untied the sash and slipped the tunic off, placing it to his left near the foot of the bed ready to be grabbed if Coline or the priestess came knocking. Then, with a sigh, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and placed his head in his hands. What a horrible mixed bag of a day!

The minutes ticked past as Jessie sat, waiting for his nausea to recede. The room was pleasantly warm, even against his bare skin. Unconsciously, he leaned forward further, until his forehead was resting practically on his knees. A prickly feeling of tiredness began to creep through his bones. His mind began to drift... before going strangely blank.

Technically, he was still awake. He blinked, and could see - though the image was meaningless as his mind detached itself. He didn't think, as such; "thought" was too strong a word for the milling currents that lapped around, receding and emerging from emptiness like waves. It was more like patterns of emotion that came and went, memories of the day that floated by and were gone as his brain processed them and prepared to recharge itself. He could have tried to snap out of it, but it wouldn't have helped him much. There wasn't much fighting the Reverie. It crept up upon a drow suddenly, when it felt that they were ready for it. They didn't get tired like humans did - not until it was too late to fight it.

He didn't hear Coline calling him, or entering, or leaving again. Or rather, he did, but it held no meaning to him. The creaking of the door did make his ears p***k, but by then it was getting too deep. Oblivion was calling.

He slept, and he dreamt.

~~~[Timeskip of around 2 hours]~~~

The images in his mind's eye faded abruptly, leaving him looking at a similar sight to before - the wooden floor of Coline' room. The Reverie didn't release him immediately for once, which he was later glad for. Jolting out of sleep was never the most pleasant feeling for anyone, but especially not for his kind, with their particularly vivid dreams. There were many tales of drow who, awakened abruptly, had lashed out, still living inside their minds, and caused destruction as a result. While it may have been the best time to assassinate them, it generally wasn't a good idea to go poking a drow while they were asleep. Better to snap them out of the Reverie by far.

Eventually - and "eventually" here translates to "around forty minutes later" - the man's torso gave a slight shift.

Then, as if he'd only put his head down for a few moments, he sat up and stretched, grimacing as his back gave a protest, having been in such an uncomfortable position for so long. To his displeasure, the acrid taste of the soup was still in his mouth - though the nausea was gone, thankfully. Fully awake, he noticed the tray set out for him and got to his feet, scooping up the glass and drinking from it thirstily in an attempt to clear the combination of rotten skunk and natural after-sleep bacteria. Its cool purity only seemed to make things worse, however, and he scowled again, replacing the now-quarter-full glass.

Taking a better look at the tray, he noted the careful arrangement of the bread and cheese - and his heart sank slightly. Sweet Coline... she tried so hard, didn't she? He plucked up a piece of the bread and ate it with a few bites of the cheese - following it quickly with another slice, and another slice, in the same manner until the two plates were cleared. Halfway through, it crossed his mind that she would have had to come in and she would have seen him as he was. The thought was unnerving, but... honestly, among his people being shirtless was a lesser indecency to wearing such a tunic as that. What unnerved him more was what she must've thought to see him at his most vulnerable.

Still, he was on the surface, and therefore had to obey their customs. It was silly of him to continue to connote the short sleeves with... such significance, when they obviously bore no such meaning here. With this thought in mind, he wrapped the tunic back round himself, less tightly than before. The material actually opened at just below his collar now, as had been intended.

The food had done something to wipe the awful taste away - but of course, he needed to brush his teeth. He couldn't just barge into the bathroom for that, of course, taking a brush as he pleased. The sound of the rain was still audible throughout. So, with any luck, Coline would still be downstairs to advise him.

Downing the last few mouthfuls of water, he stepped over the boxes and opened the door, making his way to the top of the stairs before calling down. "Coline? I'm feeling better now. Could you come here?"

Jessie beamed as his Coline, in all her perfection and beauty, appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He felt so luc- oh, god! He gasped, reaching out reflexively as if to catch her as she made her first trip on the way up. She stumbled on, however, even as he took a few steps down to aid her. She continued, not seeing him, and he backed up to allow her room to triumphantly complete the journey by herself.

He gazed at her in bemusement as she breathlessly inquired as to his needs, worry evident on his face. It wasn't like her to be so...

Or maybe it was. Her slouched form, the bleariness in her eyes, the stumbling...

His smile returned and he pulled her into a hug, slight, unrobed frame enveloping her in a much less total fashion than usual. His lips affectionately found her forehead, giving it a loving, natural peck. "What have I told you about resting, my love? You're dead on your feet!"