For a long time, or it certainly felt the part, Delphine shuddered between an unconscious to semiconscious state. Even the notion of opening her eyes was arduous but what always woke her was the warmth that curled beside her, punctuated by a steady rise and fall from evenly drawn breaths. It was never for herself did she deign to welcome the blurry world to her still aching mind and body but for the beast who had been felled during the battle against Raheerah. So it was for her every waking moment, the young mare struggled to rise, fighting the ache and groan of her body and the still broken hind-leg that quaked from even the slightest of movements. From there she would examine first the dragon's sleeping features, his one eye patched from the grievous wound inflicted upon it. Her breath never failed to catch when she saw the irreversible damage done but she could do nothing more than ensure that his injuries remained free of infection. Then she would run her muzzle along the length of his crown to his shoulder, examining the pale flesh for raw, puckered topography and there she would again, repeat the process of assuring herself all was well.

As she limped about his form, her every step threatening to fail against paper-legs, Delphine was meticulous in her care. Where the occasional blood would seep from a wound, she would readily wash it with a wrinkle of her nose for hers was a kind not suited for such palettes. Once cleansed, she would task herself with chewing up whatsoever moss and grass she could find, creating a concoction to be lain upon the open sore until she was satisfied with her work. Numerous times, she was forced to take a break, too weary and wrought with agony to continue where her own body failed to accomplish even this. It was only when she was certain that her breaths did not come and go in short, sporadic spurts did she deign to resume until ever surface of the dragon was tended to. Only then did the equine return to his behest, curling fondly by his neck and draping her own crown over the sloping planes. She did not bother with her own slight wounds because at the end of it all, she was simply too weary to continue on. What she accomplished, she accomplished through autopilot – a force of will to protect and never allow harm unto her dear friend. Never.

To this end, days would pass. She barely took note of the snow that began to fall; strange little particles that drifted to the ground and threatened to steal warmth from their side. In moments as these, the sable mare would seek yet more grass and debris to collect about them. She knew not his susceptibility for the cold but with little want to risk his life anymore than it'd already been placed on the line, she would create a shoddy nest, sparse and barely adequate for a beast of Baratheon's size. Yet it would do for the task alone had her wandering all of Pisces in her half-conscious state until it was again when she could bear no more and would collapse by his side, eager to drink in his warmth where the peculiar flurries would collect upon them. "It's okay, Theon. Everything will be okay." She would croon to her friend just before succumbing to the darkness with the mantra tucked to her heart for more than it was meant to reassure him, it would also serve to bolster her own morale should the day arrive where he awoke again.

Only a few days had passed but to Delphine, time stretched eternally before them.

She did not stir when the dragon came to; wrought still with weariness and fatigue, it was hard to desire much else but the darkness that cradled her. It would have remained so — obligations fulfilled — if not for the flood of emotions that welled within. It started first as a bloom in her heart, a lukewarm manifestation that slowly spread and expelled the cold from her. Love. Comfort. The pain broke and frayed, replaced by a sentimental upheaval that beckoned the child to wake as her eyes fluttered half-mast, reluctant to wake if not for the tug against her heartstrings. As her mind came to, so too did her senses and when the realization hit, Delphine nearly jerked to a stand with a slight stumble. She blinked away her bleary mind and forced her attention to the dragon; emerald met pink.

Without warning, her heart nearly broke then. It had felt so long, sometimes she dared to think he would never wake but here he was, well and true. Relief, an understatement, nearly felled her then and there but she stiffened her legs and forced herself to remain standing. "Theon..." She whispered, limping closer to brush her muzzle along the top of his crown. "Oh Theon, you're awake." For a while she simply stood there, neck draped over his head to stifle the rise and swell of her emotions before she thought herself capable of speech again. "Are you alright? Does it hurt?" Consciously, Delphine remained within his visible line of sight, not knowing how he would react to the damage that had been done unto him. As if to assuage her concerns, she preened his sky-blue mane and examined his wounds from afar.

A part of her still was too weary with her expended energy but the joy in knowing that he was awake propelled her to consciousness. "I missed you, Theon. I'm so glad that you're awake." By then she was forced to stifle a small cry as she buried her head into the tufts of baby-blues. She had never before lost someone, perhaps separated from them for a period of time but to have come so close to losing them completely? Never. The thought alone threatened to break her composure as her head raised so to better see him once more. "I'm going to examine your wounds one more time, okay?"