~Pretty...,~ Denlira reminded herself as she manifested in Fillip's cell,
~...Must be Pretty...~

She couldn't understand why it took such an effort to appear as she had
alive - why she had to concentrate on _not_ appearing with the wounds.

But pretty she would be. For Fillip!! Then he wouldn't hide his face from
her, and cower back. She smiled when she looked on his sleeping form, but
then in the dim light of the cell she saw the scabs on his face. "Oh my
love," she murmured in distress, "They did hurt you so...."

With phantom fingers she brushed against the wounds. "Its all my fault. If
you hadn't had to kill me," Denlira whispered, "I could make a poultice
and treat those cuts. You always liked when I cared for you...." Though
she could remember Fillip complaining, always complaining, that her herbal
treatments smelt bad and stung, and if they didn't bother him too badly
then he wouldn't hit her. And she would always apologize that this was all
she had learnt from her parents.

_But_, despite it all, they had healed his ailments.

The chill of her touch caused Fillip to moan and stir.

Denlira drifted back with a little, "Oh!"

~Pretty,~ she reminded herself, ~Pretty for Fillip.~

He opened his eyes and looked confusedly around. "Huh?" he muttered.

"Fillip," Denlira murmured and floated closer, "Se...."

"NO!" he wailed, backing up against the wall.

"Don't be afraid," she said, feeling an unfamiliar thrill move through
her essence at the power of his fear, "See I'm pretty for you. Its
going...."

"NO! NOnonono..." he whimpered, putting the blanket against his face.
"NO!"

"I'm Pretty!!....." Denlira shrieked in distress and vanished; not
understanding that Fillip looked through the eyes of his own guilt.