Solin struggles through a rattling breath, the coughing pausing as he is reoriented - he leans heavy against young Herbert's chest, blood leaking in a slow trickle from the corner of his mouth. He squints, trying to focus, desperate to see his lover's face. It comes to him, slowly, but his vision is...so gray, so dark. Everything is so dark. "Th-there you are. I'm s-sorry, love, I -"

Another cough, accompanied by a horrible gurgling sound in his throat, in his chest. A slow, painful end creeping up on him over days, weeks. Drowning in his own body.

"...It's getting...so hard...to breathe," he rasps, sweat sticking his unruly chestnut hair to his forehead. His whole body is shaking, shivering, clammy and cold despite the fire in the hearth. "I don't...I don't think I can - hhhhhh - my dear, I can't...get up. Can you...can you...help me...off...the floor...?"