Lucien kept his hand over his nose and mouth. He flinched as Inigo let out another body wrenching cough.
He honestly didn't know what was worse; listening to Inigo hack out his lungs, thanks to Peryite, or smelling whatever monstrosity Auri was brewing in the middle of camp.
Lucien tried not think disparagingly of this Valenwood cure-all Auri was making to hold Inigo over until they reached Falkreath (because no one was willing to go back to Markarth anytime soon). But it was hard after seeing how Ko'va's best cure disease potions had no affect.
And the fact that it smelled so bad that it drove Ko'va, Dreamer, Kharjo, and Ma'kara out of camp. He could only imagine how ghastly this concoction was to their more sensitive noses.
Oh, why was he feeling too polite to go with them?
"Are you alright, Lucien," Inigo asked, his stuffed and dripping nose distorting his voice and interrupting Lucien's internal lament. "It almost looks like you're turning green."
"Oh, I'm alright. I just can't decide if I should be grateful that I'm not sick like you or if I should be jealous of your inability to smell right now," Lucien replied.
Inigo grimaced.
"Does it really smell that bad?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Not really."
They both turned to look at Auri.
"How's that remedy coming along Auri," Lucien called. "Is it ready yet?"
"Almost," Auri replied, her voice entirely too chipper. "Just needs to brew for a few more minutes then it will be good to go."
Inigo gulped.
"What do you think is more deadly," he asked Lucien, his voice low. "Peryite or whatever's in the pot?"
"On smell alone, I honestly can't say," Lucien said. He didn't want to admit out loud that he was sure that Auri's brew might be slightly worse. "Look at it this way, it'll either help in some way, or do nothing at all!"
"Well, that's reassuring."
written for whumptober day 8: coughing up a lung
