She blinks, like someone waking up as they start to nod off, and the curse gets the briefest ghost of a smile. Only the people who know her best would even be able to see it, in the way her eyes crinkle so very very briefly.

She stands. "His breathing doesn't sound great."

She could clarify that she means Neal's, but clarifying means further assertion that Evandrin is gone.

A spark of rebellion lands on something in her spirit and starts to burn. Gone, but not out of reach.

Neal drifts back to consciousness as he feels the closest person move away. His limbs all feel leaden. The rest of him is one solid weight.

When he manages to open his eyes and focus on Zerxus's face, he gets hit with the other mark Evandrin left behind. An anguished affection, a love and a longing so deep and broad it's already starting to carve new canyons through his heart.

A god was in his body, loving Zerxus with every folded space, every prismatic refraction of its being. That doesn't vanish easily. Neal doesn't know much about anything, right now, but he knows he's rapidly falling in love with his rescuer. He also knows he would be attracted to Zerxus even without echoes of Evandin's devotion making it hard to care about anyone else.

"Ow," Neal rasps, and coughs a bit of red onto his lips.