After all of the shock and choas of her most recent journey to Taengea and Athenia, followed by the tumultuous return to Colchis, life had returned to a normal pace...and it seemed almost boring by comparison. Returning to her family's side, she settled easily into her usual setting like a small ornament being replaced upon the shelf. Sure, the first few days were spent odorously recounting the events of the journey, the repercussions of which were still being felt like a ripple effect kingdoms away. It gave her a modicum of attention that felt unfamiliar to her at the dinner table, with each member of the family finding a different interest in each element - Nethis intrigued by the political opportunities and connections, Mihail with the revelry of the Festvial he missed, and her father with the almost mythic level of shock and grandeur of a dead King across the sea. In truth, it was quite exhausting for her to keep up such a pace with storytelling and recounting the events over and over again.

As such, she spent much of her time away from them, away in her room, really only letting Mihail, the least intrusive of her siblings keep her company. As befitting to her reclusive nature, she internalized all that she had experienced and settled into the steady rhythm of ritual and prayer. Incense continually burned in her rooms- a sure sign to the members of the household that she had returned. Pleased to see that the help had not completely murdered her beloved herbs and botanical treasures, she approached her prized poppy plant - pleased to see that her melancholic brother had not stripped it clean in her absence- scoring the outside with the edge of a dainty blade, collecting the sticky brown resin along the edge before deftly sliding the blade along the cup of her prized oriental treasure, a blown-glass pipe crafted for smoking the tears of the poppy. It was a recent purchase her prior one having been assumed to be lost along with most of her affects during the storm that attacked them upon their arrival. It took her a day or so to find a vendor with the appropriate wares, but after finding it, she was curious to see how this one fared compared to her other one.

Delicately holding the pipe, she crossed to collect a small sliver of wood to capture the flame from a nearby lamp. Placing the tapered end of the tube between her painted lips, she watched as the flame surged upon touching the glistening resin as she inhaled deeply. Smoke curled in her lungs, the heat coating her mouth like warm honey on her tongue. After a moment, she exhaled, feeling as the smoke passed through her lips, twirling in a languid dance through the air, she felt her breath seem to also float behind her eyes, seeming to lift her from the chaise where she sat, floating through the air.

Ahhh, she had missed this.

As she lounged on her chaise, her consciousness began to wander, savoring the sensation of floating without moving. A distant rapping against her door went unacknowledged at first. It came again, and she called out to them, eyes stilled closed in sweet reverie. Her heavy lids lifted as well as her brows when Commander Nike of Acaris was announced before entering. A wry smile curled at the corners of her lips as she slowly began to sit up and set the small pipe down on the end of the chaise, a thin curl of smoke still dancing from the tip. As the man entered, Thea welcomed the sight, strangely feeling more accustomed to his presence than that of her own family at this point.

"My lord, Commander. Welcome," she purred, returning the Commander's bow with a small dip of her own. "Please, come in and sit," she encouraged, gesturing slowly for her to enter before using the same hand to dismiss the help that had guided the Commander in, "It may be as much of a surprise to you as it is to me, but I am pleased to be in your company again." Thea shifted to make room on the chaise for the Commander. They had been in far closer quarters than this on their journey, so the fact that they were in a larger room did not dissuade her from offering such close contact. Her eyes lighted on the packages on the man's arms, and she grinned, "Gifts for me? Oh, you must have missed me so....your hands..."

On those last words her brows knit together, questioningly, as she saw the haphazard bindings and the bloodstains. Thea extended both of her hands as a silent command for her to see them. A flicker of irritation cut through the haze in her mind at the carelessness of it all, particularly for one who had been so kind to her on this journey.

While her mind seemed to float, the sensation was familiar enough to her that it did not affect too many of her actions. The khol around her eyes masked the heaviness of her eyelids to an extent. The smoke did not burn her lungs the way hemp did, so her voice remained as it was. As the Commander entered, he could clearly see her state, but would not necessarily recognize for what it was. In her time knowing the man, she found him to be incredibly pliable, if not purposefully attempting to remain dense. For a man of his station, it was a good quality that kept many a wise soldier out of trouble. Commander Nike had managed to stay well out of trouble - including trouble his Crown Prince had managed to fall into with her on their journey home. Just the thought of that brought a small, wry smirk to her lips.

With a slight tilt of her head, she acknowledged that she had fared far better than many on the island. Much of the island had been destroyed, and word traveled quickly that several nobles and royals were injured in the mess. While she was aware that Lord Vangelis' had been one of the many in that count, she did not know the full extent of his injuries, only that he had been confined to his family's estate for the time being. Which, in many ways, explained the man at her door.

When he declined to sit next to her, she raised a brow. "Come now, we have been in far tighter quarters than a chaise lounge before, Commander. I did not suddenly grow sharper teeth simply because I stand - or sit - on solid ground again." She rolled her eyes slightly at the man's sudden bashfulness. Thea recalled the accumulation of hours spent talking about herbs and remedies, hypothesizing and theorizing about ideal kits that could be kept and used to stop bleeding and stave off infections of battle wounds, and also the ideal poisons to tip certain weapons. In those hours, she felt she had grown closer to the soldier, not just out of obligation, but true enjoyment. Thus, Thea felt a certain sting from him as he declined to share a seat with her, but waved a hand as if to bat the sting of it all away.

Seeing the man's poorly wrapped and clearly infected hands, Thea's eyes narrowed significantly, adding to the annoyance she felt from his simple refusal to sit.

"You are a fool if you find losing a hand to an infection from a 'minor wound' is of 'no matter', Commander," she said, her words holding a little more bite to them than she intended. Languidly yet purposefully, she stood from the chaise, then pointed to the end of it, gesturing for the man to sit and hoping she would not have to verbalize the order. "Remove those," she quietly ordered as she crossed the room to a large, elegantly carved cabinet, as she opened it, she revealed hundreds of small, clay pots of various shapes and sizes, all inscribed with the contents names. As her lithe fingers began to dance across the various lids in search of the right ingredients, she spoke over her shoulder, "How did they happen? And how old are they?"