Starry Orion

Having descended too many steps to keep track of and turned an equally innumerable turns, Bathilde was exhausted by the time she found herself on the fifth floor. She was heading outside; for a nice walk around the lake or through the gardens. But so far, her walk had tired her to the point of faltering.
She tried not to think about how increasingly tired she'd been lately. Yesterday, she had nearly fainted when working on paperwork and despite careful monitoring of her water intake and sufficient food, she still felt like a thread was holding her up. The walk lost it's pleasure and she reached out a hand to find the wall and leant against it. Her breath was coming in short and uneven gasps, adding to her feeling lightheaded.
Shaking her head, she pushed herself toward, using her cane for more than guidance. As long as she was in the area, she decided she'd visit her newly appointed Head of Ravenclaw.
His door was easy to find; harder to reach as she lightly tapped against the high wood.

Gage was in his office, reviewing tomorrow's itinerary. Being a professor and a student in the same term (although at different institutions) made it essential he had his i's dotted and his t's crossed. Yet the wizard wouldn't have it any other way. His mind, body, and spirit were all pleasantly kept busy but not too busy. It might have appeared other wise on certain days, but overall he made sure to stay on the ball.

The professor was just listing a mental review of what he had learned in the class prior to the evening one he was supposed to attend tomorrow night when he heard a knock at the door. A murmured spell he'd learned as a newly-appointed Ravenclaw Head told him his visitor was the Headmistress. "Coming," he called and stood. With the furniture in the room Gage managed to maneuver to the door without his cane. Once he was half of the way there the wizard charmed the wooden portal to open on its own.

"Everything okay, Headmistress?" he asked out of courtesy, though carried enough concern to show he knew there was high probability she would say no. Judging by the fact she was leaned against the wall as she was seemingly gasping for breath, both things Gage took swift notice of, Bathilde was clearly anything but okay. "Come in and sit a while. I'll pull up a chair for you," Gage offered, stepping just far enough to be out of her way but close enough to assist if she needed it. Just as he said, in the next moment am armchair from opposite his desk was spelled to swivel and with minimal noise slid forward.

As the door swung open, Bathilde was sorely tempted to assure the professor that everything was 'perfect'. However, that was a lie too blatant to truly pass her lips, so she passed on it.
"I have been better." she admitted, relieved at the offered seat. All she really wanted to do at that moment was sit down and catch a breath she shouldn't have lost in the first place. Usually she was perfectly healthy; able to walk several kilometres and not break a sweat. This current state was ridiculously unusual. "Thank you. I suppose the walk down and I didn't get on very well."

Her wand identified the seat as it slid forward and she found it, forcing herself not to lean as heavily as she wanted on her cane. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked, hopefully. He was a busy man after all. Not everyone had time to simply set aside work for a 'whimsical' chat with their employer. Still, she didn't have the energy to go anywhere anyway. "Have you been well?" It felt strange to voice that question feeling as if she was going to crumple over at any moment.

Gage gave a murmured utterance to replace a nod. "Walking and I don't always get along either," he replied honestly, taking an empathetic approach. Did she have a mobility problem in addition to her blindness, the wizard wondered? "Have you always had mobility issues?" Gage inquired, light but concerned. To his recollection of the times he'd encountered her she did not seem to. But then again... even Gage himself tried to conceal weakness whether it was necessary or not.

"No, not at all," the professor reassured. It was half a lie and half a truth. "Just some light reading. If I may... I'm just going to move the chair inside and close the door," he added, feeling it only polite to let her know what was going on around her even though she had magical ways to sense things. With the same spell he slid Bathilde's chair a ways into the office and closed the door, then walked toward the seat nearest his employer as opposed to back behind the desk.

Gabriel eased himself onto the edge of the seat directly next to Bathilde's. "Yes, actually I have. Though, I did have one youngster in here this morning... Fourth Year if I'm not mistaken... absolutely panicked about exam time despite it being ages away. I gave her some calming draught and scheduled some one-on-one tutoring for later this week. Seemed to help..." he answered.

"Were you under the weather when you started, or did it just suddenly occur?" Although Bathilde couldn't see it, a great concern and moderate curiosity engulfed the wizard's eyes.

Bathilde smiled, thankful that he was being so compassionate. Many were not; finding her blindness problem enough without any other problem she might be struggling with.
"No; usually I don't have any problems." she said. At least not for the past years of her life; the last month or so did not count. "Just...just lately; rather weak, you could say."

She hoped he wasn't softening the truth, but didn't press that line of thought. Her main reasoning was almost always to trust unless that privilege had been compromised. Then she doubted what was offered; but not until that point. Professor Hall was very well settled into trustable at the moment.
"Ah, thank you." she blushed lightly. It always touched her when people remembered to say when they did something. It saved her embarrassment, trouble and bruises.

"Oh, well, I'm glad you were able to assist her. Exams are always stressful of the students. Some just more than others." She slid her cane to rest beside her chair and noted that he had seated himself by the faint squeak.

"It-it..." she shook her head slightly, words scrambling. "It started about... a few weeks ago; a bit before." Bathilde stopped herself from mentioning her husband; it didn't help anything. "A few weeks ago, I guess." Her hands felt weighted and her shoulders drooped slightly. The cane quivered as her fingers loosened to the point that it thumped heavily against the floor. "Sorry." she whispered, leaning down to grab the needed item. As she bent however, she felt distinctly sick to her stomach. She fell from the chair and hit the floor hard, suddenly too tired, weak and pained to even really care.

"Hmm..." was the professor's response. "Maybe you're just tired? Do you get enough sleep?" Gage asked. It really wasn't any of his business, but he couldn't help but ask. If it were common then it wouldn't have interested him. But since it was a fairly recent development... that interested him. The medi-wizard poisons specialist in him couldn't resist a good puzzle. And more importantly was his underlying drive to help people. He had thought being an Auror would satisfy that need. But, several years and one bad leg later, it was discovered something else better suited his personality.

The wizard listened patiently as Bathilde spoke, though couldn't help but wonder when 'a bit before' was. Gage observed his employer closely, noticing Bathilde's shoulders droop and her hands... well, he wasn't sure if they shook or simply went limp and wouldn't hold the cane. Deep concern made his two eyebrows appear to connect and make one. Whatever 'before' had been, Gage surmised, it likely wasn't pleasant. "Don't worry about it," he replied to her apology.

Gage jumped and winced when Bathilde hit the floor. "Are you alright?!" he asked with alarm, immediately moving the small table out of his way. The wizard grunted as he slid himself off his chair, abandoning all thoughts of magic. At times he forgot he was a wizard with powers, and in some cases that lapse of memory occurred during emergencies. Gabriel transfigured the armchair into a low-legged lounge chair. "Excuse me, Headmistress," he muttered and with some effort hoisted her into the new piece of furniture. The fall didn't seem severe enough to warrant not moving her.

Without even thinking about letting her know beforehand, the wizard shifted a chunk of hair out of Bathilde's face to assess how hard she'd hit and if that was where she had hit. "Are there any common symptoms between these incidents that you can think of?" he asked, conjuring a glass of water for her.

Everything didn't make sense, she thought, or nothing did, goodness her own English was slippery as a seal skin suddenly. Barely coherent enough to understand what had happened, Bathilde didn't feel the professor settle her into the lounge chair until a weak hand felt it as she attempted to get up. He was speaking... she was sure of it. But it was far off and strange sounding; like the bells her husband had insisted on using for their doorbell.

Her lips moved to form words, but nothing came out. Of course, it wasn't actually a word she mouthed, rather than a name; but he wasn't going to come to her rescue... he'd abandoned her. By force of habit, her eyes blinked wildly, wide and frightened as her hand sought anything familiar around her. All she found in her short search was his arm, as it moved what had to have been hair from her face. Fingers too weak to truly grip settled against him, desperation obvious as her body trembled.

Then as quickly as her total confusion had swallowed her, she was released.
"W-w-what happened?" her teeth chattered as if she was freezing, and her fingers, which had regained the smallest amount of strength tightened ever so slightly on the wizard's arm. "Are y-you okay?" to her it was a normal question, one she'd used whenever slightly unsure of something. The other person's health came to mind and if satisfied that they were indeed well, she could rest more at ease.

That blend of concern and curiosity deepened when the Headmistress didn't answer and instead tried to get up. Gage placed a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to get her to stay put. "Bathilde, can you hear me? You should rest, alright?" he said a little louder, deciding to be bold enough to use her first name. After all, Gage himself tended to respond better to a name than his old auror rank. That was different, though, but not that different.

For a moment Gage thought Bathilde was speaking, and leaned forward to hear. As no sound reached his ears he instead focused on her lips in an attempt to read them. Henry? Jordie? 'Something'-ey, at any rate. Whatever it was she was trying to say, he couldn't quite tell. "Bathilde, do you know where you are?" he asked a bit more urgently, seeing her eyes were wide and not exactly in a state of relaxation. Gage glanced as Bathilde's hand rested against his arm. A sudden flashback of him and Liara came to mind, but he had to shake the thought from his mind and eyes.

As the Headmistress's confusion vanished, Gage's increased. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "Are you cold?" Without waiting for an answer he conjured a warm, thick blanket. It was the only reason he could think of that would make her teeth chatter. The wizard didn't mind the slight grip on his arm in the least and let it remain there.

"Me? I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about," Gage answered. It was somewhat of a lie for his leg had begun to ache, but she didn't need to know that. "I had asked you a few questions when you..." he ventured, not quite sure how to put it. "...when you seemed to have a bad spell there. And I'm not talking about magic. Do you remember anything before or during the episode, for lack of a better word?"

"N-no..." she managed, wondering why her body felt so warm, despite how it shivered. She wasn't cold, hadn't even thought about body temperature until he'd asked. Bathilde nearly wanted to know why he'd asked to know if she was cold when she felt her teeth chattering and sought to still them. Despite her weakness, she didn't want to stay like this, barely able to stay conscious, head clouded and her body aching from a heavy weight. It was too vivid a picture to not bring to mind countless memories of being equally as frightened and confused.

"Good." a smile reached her lips and she relaxed visibly. Each person had their own ways of comfort and for Bathilde it was a caring presence and assurance that everything was fine... everyone that was. "This is unusual." she sighed, trying to answer his questions. "It started a few weeks before my husband, d-died." That thought clarified everything for her and she struggled to sit up again. "I was strengthening the wards and, and lost consciousness... I'm losing my sanity, aren't I?" she asked, innocently scared to death.

Brown eyebrows furrowed. Not cold? Fever then, he deduced as a possibility. Vanishing the blanket the wizard nearly just went ahead with his plan of action when he paused. "I'm going to touch your forehead, to check for fever," Gage murmured, then placed his palm across the area. Sure enough: she wasn't cold at all but rather exceedingly warm. The potioneer conjured a basin, filled it with cold water from his wand, and then produced a handkerchief. He dipped the cloth into the water, then wrung it out. "Here... this might help a little. If you don't have any allergies to potion ingredients, I'd like to suggest you take a small dose of Fever Reducer." With that he summoned the phial of potion in question, in the event Bathilde was agreeable to the idea.

Gage wasn't quite sure why knowing he was fine relaxed her so. But he didn't mind so long as it set Bathilde at ease, and it was a kindly gesture he certainly hadn't been given by very many other supervisors. Hauling himself up silently, Gage sat on an edge of the lounge chair (looking first to make sure he didn't sit on his guest) and rubbed the ache out of his leg as he listened. When Bathilde's words turned fearful Gabriel reached for her hand and gave it a good, reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry," he said, giving Bathilde's mention of the deceased man a moment of honored silence before continuing.

He helped her sit up as best and as much as he could. "It could be a grief response. They can be strong, but I doubt you're losing your sanity," Gage continued. "With your permission I'd like to do some research in case it's something else."

She felt him take the blanket away, but controlled herself from stiffening. Almost dumbly, she nodded when he said he was going to touch her head, not really caring whether or not he did. It was thoughtful of him to ask though; many seemed to forget how disconcerting it was for her to be touched without warning. The wet cloth followed his hand and Bathilde forced herself to believe it was helping. That mental mantra seemed to help anyway. There was something also in the human contact that assisted, something that helped her set the uncertainty aside. His hand left her head and she heard the slight creak of a chair as he sat.
"That sounds fine." she murmured, anxious for almost anything that would help. The potion would doubtless reduce her apparent fever and she'd be fine. That had to be the way of it; because frankly as she mulled it over, there wasn't room in her current living style for sickness. She had a young daughter to care for and a school to run.

His hand touched hers, reassuringly allowing for a firm solidness. She doubted he knew how much she needed it. Slowly, she nodded as she came to a partial sitting thanks to his assistance. It made sense that her collapse and weakness was tied into the violent loss of her husband. She licked her lips, finding them dry as her brain muddled through how to respond.
"I would appreciate that." she returned softly, hoping her eyes were pointed toward him. Then carefully she asked him something she needed an honest answer to. "Did you ever have someone you loved kill themselves?" Part of her wanted him to say that he hadn't, because that would have saved another person similar grief and bewilderment; but that other part longed for him to say yes, because then, she could ask if he understood why anyone would be so selfish.

When Bathilde agreed to take some fever reducing potion, Gage summoned the bottle closer to his reach. From thin air he conjured a goblet meant for measuring potion dosages. The potion poured itself to the wizard's almost telepathic specifications. "Here," Gage murmured as he gently placed the goblet in Bathilde's free hand.

As she looked at him, Gage once again forgot the Headmistress was blind as he nodded and offered a small smile. "I'll let you know about anything I find," he reassured her. It almost felt like he was back at Saint Mungo's reassuring a patient. Perhaps someday, if teaching didn't steal his occupational heart first, he would return to the medical world upon earning his Master's degree.

Startled at first by the Headmistress's sudden question, Gabriel blinked. "No, I haven't, that I know of. Although I suspect one might have considered trying," he replied earnestly. Thoughts immediately turned to his father, Jason Hall, during the time when tragedy struck the family in the form of murder. While Gage was no longer on very good terms with the man he still had to hand it to his sister for coaxing the stubborn old mule out of joining his murdered wife. But then that made him think further... Why was she asking? There were only two conclusions he could come up with, and one was more likely than the other. "I have looked into suicide cases before, though... I used to be an auror, way back when."

She forced unsteady fingers to grasp the cup he gave her, managing to keep it from spilling. "Thank you." Bathilde sipped it gingerly, just able to keep from grimacing at the usually bad taste of the potion. She downed it, bit by bit until it was all gone, hoping it would help. Unsure of whether or not he wanted the goblet back, she cradled it in her palms, the smooth feel somewhat comforting.

"I-I would appreciate that." She shuddered, a cold tendril running down her spine. He was terribly patient for a teacher; even one used to dealing with the nuances of children. At some point, she mused that she'd question after his former occupations, if there were any. But for now, she could barely get her thoughts together long enough to speak.

So he hadn't. She was glad to hear it, even as his voice faded in and out of her hearing. She was growing weak again; a fact that reminded her of her missing cane. Her eyes widened; a unknowing fear akin to a child noticing a missing life-line of a blanket or toy. But instead of asking for him to give it to her, she swallowed her desire.
"You were an auror?" somehow that didn't seem like his area of expertise. She'd figured physician or professional potion master. Wizard warrior hadn't leap to mind in connection with the professor. Then again, she didn't doubt him. She smiled sadly. "My husband was one; he- he left it for his own potions shop. I don't-don't think he wanted to though."