[Silence follows Crowe readily, almost not needing the hand on his arm to guide him - though it helps, because currently his mind is racing. The word that keeps repeating itself in his thoughts is infection; whatever is doing this to the town, it's contagious, and it has almost certainly been passed to him. His lower arm is already tingling, almost burning in an unnatural way; he can guess what that means. And it will spread. And when it does take him...Crowe will be right next to him, won't he?
None of this is particularly comforting. But Silence has been in tight situations before, and he keeps a level head. There are two options - one is to kill himself now, before he turns, though whether he's killed before or after he turns makes little difference so long as Crowe is prepared to deal with him infected. And, judging by the apology the boy has given him...yes, he knows what could happen.
The other, slightly more practical option is to attempt to rid himself of the infection. A quick healing spell - accompanied by the soft glow of starlight bathing the alley - heals the bite on his arm, but does nothing for the burning in his flesh; that's not enough, then. He can think of only one other way to keep it from spreading, and it seems logically preferable to any other possibility right now.
He unties the red bow he usually wears around his neck, quick fingers working to tie it tightly just above his elbow in a makeshift tourniquet. Having decided on his course of action, there's no hesitation in his thoughts or movements - only intense focus. Mystics are often far more dispassionate than humans are, even the nicest ones, and in this at least Silence is no exception. At one point he glances to Crowe, wordlessly asking for assistance in securing the ribbon.]
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None of this is particularly comforting. But Silence has been in tight situations before, and he keeps a level head. There are two options - one is to kill himself now, before he turns, though whether he's killed before or after he turns makes little difference so long as Crowe is prepared to deal with him infected. And, judging by the apology the boy has given him...yes, he knows what could happen.
The other, slightly more practical option is to attempt to rid himself of the infection. A quick healing spell - accompanied by the soft glow of starlight bathing the alley - heals the bite on his arm, but does nothing for the burning in his flesh; that's not enough, then. He can think of only one other way to keep it from spreading, and it seems logically preferable to any other possibility right now.
He unties the red bow he usually wears around his neck, quick fingers working to tie it tightly just above his elbow in a makeshift tourniquet. Having decided on his course of action, there's no hesitation in his thoughts or movements - only intense focus. Mystics are often far more dispassionate than humans are, even the nicest ones, and in this at least Silence is no exception. At one point he glances to Crowe, wordlessly asking for assistance in securing the ribbon.]