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Entry tags:

athelstan,
ragnar

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Curled in Rangar's arms and clutching Athelstan's hand, Sinric keeps his face hidden as they enter their rooms. Somehow it's easier with his eyes closed. It seems to narrow down the visions.

He tries to steady himself enough to stand, wavering like a leaf. "I must smell terrible." He can't tell, still so disconnected from his own body. "I don't remember how long it's been since I washed."

He senses a turn of discomfort from Athelstan. "I can do it alone, it's alright."

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"Not modern drugs, I think it happened in his own time. But it could have been ones available then."

"There are very powerful plant based drugs," the doctor says, putting more vials into the bag.

He nods.

"And they could have played a part in a ritual."

"That is what mind-altering drugs are traditionally used for," the doctor says. "Alcaloid-based ones, especially. Hallucinogenics."

He peers into his bag as if to check he has everything he needs.

"Don't those usually wear off fairly quickly, though? It's been quite a few hours, maybe as long as a day."

"There are drugs that last a lot longer," Dr. Lecter says, "and then there are flashback effects."

Athelstan nods, accepting Dr Lecter's knowledge about that as greater than his.

"Do you have what you need?"

"I think so," Dr. Lecter says. "Let'S go help Sinric."

He turns for the door immediately.

The doctor locks up, then quickly strides down the corridor towards the staircase. "Sinric's room, or yours?"

"Ragnar's. I'll show you the way."

The doctor nods. "Up or down?" he asks when they get to the stairs.

"Up."

He leads the rest of the way, almost running.

The doctor hurries along, close behind him, up to Ragnar's door.

Athelstan opens it hurriedly, looking to see Sinric's condition.

Sinric is limp as a doll in Ragnar's arms when they come in. Blood and spittle oozing from the corner of his lips from where he's bitten the inside of his mouth during the fit. His breath barely stirring the air, his narrow chest is almost still.

"He was wild, and now got quiet," Ragnar says, sounding very worried, the moment they both step inside.

The doctor walks over quickly, opens the bag, and starts examining Sinric, starting with a look into his eye.

"I think that can happen, when the seizure passes", Athelstan says, just as worriedly. "But he's still with us, so the doctor can help him."

His eyes are wide, his pupils blown and several shades too dark. They contract sluggishly to the light if at all.

Sinric does respond, far from himself in his pain.

"How long was he taking those drugs?" the doctor asks.

"We don't know. It's only a likely guess that he was at all."

It's clear to look at him that Sinric's own health has suffering badly and for some weeks. His bones stick out, his skin shallow and pale. The circles under his eyes dark and bruised.

"He was better for a bit," Ragar supplies, pain in his voice.

"And then he went to sleep, and that's when this happened."

Hannibal's sensitive nose may pick up that Sinric's liver and kidney functions aren't quite right. Especially the drugs have poisoned him and his system is fighting them.