"I know it's been hard for everyone to rest," Kashmir said, a halted attempt at understanding, and Setebos was once again tempted to reward his empathy with a pointed question asking him what he believed he knew about other people. Again, inexplicably, he refrained, instead settling for a mediocre dismissal without the same disdainful sting.
"Mm," Setebos acknowledged, gruffly, and let that thread fall.
Kashmir groped so desperately for reconciliation - Setebos was content with denying it until the end of his days, if only because it brought him some measure of satisfaction. Wherever did this bottomless spite come from? He had once regarded Kashmir with even neutrality, and now he could barely look at him, even in this pitiful and toothless state, without feeling his skin crawl. He couldn't help but feel like his weakness was a charade, and if he turned his back on Kashmir for a moment, those needlelike teeth would be gnawing at his throat. He had attacked another medic - what was one more doctor slain to protect his dirty little secret?
It was why, of course, Setebos did not turn his back on Kashmir.
Setebos looked at the chamomile again. Lotus was a competent doctor, his professional misgivings aside, and her recommendation was sound. However, he had a more effective way of administering the antidote, and enhancing its latent effects, than Kashmir's maddened fumbling. Ingesting it was a viable method, but he could guarantee the effectiveness of this remedy, and it would be a more soothing process than forcing twigs down an uncooperative esophagus. Setebos scooped the chamomile off the ground and proceeded wordlessly to a nearby fire pit, still heady with the smell of a recently kindled fire. He rooted through the mound of ashes, setting up the makeshift device used to prepare poultices, and with some finagling, reignited the fire.
Setebos allowed Kashmir to prattle on about his symptoms, which he digested with clinical objectivity. He dashed the chamomile into a golden powder and tossed it into the bowl, turning the water inside bronze, its color shifting to a muted saffron as he added some yarrow and coltsfoot, and once it was finished, he removed the steaming hot cup from the fire and presented it at Kashmir's feet. It was too hot to consume immediately, but once he was able to drink it, it would only be a matter of time before Kashmir felt his symptoms begin to abate.
"Try this," Setebos instructed impassively. "Drinking it'll be a bit of a struggle, but once you're able to get it down, you'll start to feel some... improvements."