Some silver lining that was.
And even if he got to the hospital in time, who was to say anyone here would be able to save him a second time? If the curse was still in him, what was the possibility it would only get stronger? They needed it out of him and far away, fast. And for good.
Evander had no easy solutions here, and they had already discussed the one point of logic that seemed a safe bet, which was staying off the ship. And out of trouble, quietly at home, where hopefully the curse would have no cause to flare up. But if he had no more reasonable advice, and he hadn’t any chiding left in him... what else was he supposed to say?
“You’ve survived stranger things than this,” Evander offered eventually, trying hard to sound firmly optimistic - or mildly reassuring. “You can’t die on me now.” And in his head, it was quite true; anyone who had managed to live for so long amongst the remotest tribes of South America without being killed or cannibalised wasn’t going to die here, with a hospital and the Ministry all working on breaking the curse he was under. And the only thing worse, he supposed, than having to endure Alfred getting into trouble in every which way, would be not having his brother at all.
He had already mourned him once, and once was more than enough.
“And if - you do die,” Evander said, with a weak smile and very uncharacteristic false lightness (a tone that held a certain degree of fear that he had misjudged the moment to attempt, of all things, to make a joke), “I promise I’ll do my best not to be embarrassing at the funeral.”
And even if he got to the hospital in time, who was to say anyone here would be able to save him a second time? If the curse was still in him, what was the possibility it would only get stronger? They needed it out of him and far away, fast. And for good.
Evander had no easy solutions here, and they had already discussed the one point of logic that seemed a safe bet, which was staying off the ship. And out of trouble, quietly at home, where hopefully the curse would have no cause to flare up. But if he had no more reasonable advice, and he hadn’t any chiding left in him... what else was he supposed to say?
“You’ve survived stranger things than this,” Evander offered eventually, trying hard to sound firmly optimistic - or mildly reassuring. “You can’t die on me now.” And in his head, it was quite true; anyone who had managed to live for so long amongst the remotest tribes of South America without being killed or cannibalised wasn’t going to die here, with a hospital and the Ministry all working on breaking the curse he was under. And the only thing worse, he supposed, than having to endure Alfred getting into trouble in every which way, would be not having his brother at all.
He had already mourned him once, and once was more than enough.
“And if - you do die,” Evander said, with a weak smile and very uncharacteristic false lightness (a tone that held a certain degree of fear that he had misjudged the moment to attempt, of all things, to make a joke), “I promise I’ll do my best not to be embarrassing at the funeral.”
