"You're not going to training today." He shakes his head, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, he raises his left hand and twirls his finger around. "You turn you're little self around and get back in bed."

"But I'm fine!"

He sniffles though, rubbing at his nose with the back of his sleeve, trying not to look as miserable as he felt.

"I'm not even sick!"

"I don't think so. I may be a Power now, but I was raised as a healer, I can see everything I need to know you are, in fact, sick." He twirls his finger again. "Turn, mister, let's go."

The boy groans, sighing deeply, he throws his arms out and turns on his heel. Behind him, his guardian follows, as if only to make sure that he makes his way back to their shared room. He expects to be put to bed, tucked in nice and snug, and for the Power to take his leave to return to training. They've grown rather close, but he doesn't think they're that close, he's still a Power after all. He has a squadron to be training. He doesn't have time to take care of a sick youngling.

They enter their room in silence, and fingers curl around the leather vest he wears. "Come on, shrug it off." He does as he's told in silence, mentally preparing himself for an afternoon alone. "And your boots. Kick 'em off." Donavon does as he's told, kicking his boots off, pushing them to the edge of his wardrobe with his feet. Puriel rubs at his shoulders, he feels him lean forward, his curls brush against his cheek. "Let's get you into bed."

He nods, letting himself be led forward, watching as the Power leans around him to pull his blankets down and guides him down into bed. He tucks the blankets up under his chin and sits on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees, turning to look at him fondly. "If you aren't well, I need to know, so I can make you feel better again."

"Because I need to train?"

"Because I care for you." He strokes his hair back. "I don't like seeing you feeling badly."

He looks down to his hands. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's alright, this is still new for you, surely your old guardian wasn't so caring." Donavon shakes his head, looking up when the medic strokes the back of his fingers over his cheek. "But I happen to adore you, so when you feel bad, I will care for you until you feel well again."

"You're not going to leave me?"

Puriel shakes his head, giving him a soft smile. "Not for anything less them a sudden ambush." Brushing his fingers through his hair. "I'm all yours." Donavon smiles slightly, finally letting the cough he's been struggling to hold back free, it rocks his chest. His guardian winks in amusement. "There's that 'nonexistent' cough."

"I don't feel good, Puri."

He presses his hand over his forehead, curling his fingers with the curve, nodding in agreement. "I know you don't." He frowns lightly at the warmth under his fingers. "Tell me what hurts, so I can help."

Donavon curls his fingers around the Power's hand, pulling it down to press against his chest, curling around it slightly. "My belly hurts, Puri."

"Is that it?"

He shakes his head. "My throat hurts too. And my head."

His new guardian nods. "You've got a bit of a fever there, as well, and that small cough." The medic scratches the fingers of his captive hand against his youngling's congested chest. "Let me gather a few things, I'll be right back, okay Avon?"

The boy nods, letting go of his hand, and watches him from his pillow as his Power crosses to the cabinet above his desk and rummages through the vials he keeps in there. Cures and tonics for just about everything, his inventory was always stocked, he never ran out, that's what becomes from being good friends with two apothecaries.

Three vials, that's how many he grabs, and he closes the cabinet door as he turns to head back to his side. He sits on the edge of the bed once more, uncapping the vials, he passes them over. "Every drop, Avon, they'll help." His boy nods, taking the vials as he's passing them over, downing them in one gulp lest he actually have to taste them. "Good boy, very good." Puriel sets the empty vials on the small table that sits between their beds, stroking a finger down his nose. "Do you want me to read to you until you fall asleep?"

Donavon nods sleepily. "Yes, please."

He reaches for the book laying on the small table, nudging the youngling over, kicking his own boots off as he stretches out next to him. Donavon snuggles close, curling under his arm, his head cushioned on his chest. He curls his arm around him comfortingly and opens the book where they had left off the night before, kissing the top of his head once. "Ready?"

The young warrior in training rubs at his nose and nods lazily. "Promise you'll stay if I fall asleep?"

"I won't even read ahead."

Donavon smiles, nuzzling in closer, feeling lips press to his temple. "You better not, Puri."

"I promise I won't."