With the contents of her dinner now in the bucket and the ship only becoming more tossed with the strengthening storm, Navia feared she would be dry heaving into the bucket more than anything else. As it was, she could feel her stomach clenching with the nausea, her diaphragm spasming from the reflexes to vomit. When Théadan kneeled down beside her, her body was coiled with tension while she tried to fight back the urge to vomit again, but then the ship rose up and dipped down suddenly when it rode over another wave. His touch was gentle and soothing on her back, his voice quiet, but Navia could not focus on him when her stomach was lurching again and she was throwing up into the bucket once more.<br/><br/>With a low groan, Navia rested a forearm on the rim of the bucket and dropped her forehead to rest on it. He was trying to give her the waterskin, but she shook her head weakly, not trusting herself to drink water just yet. Instead she closed her eyes  and tried to focus on the inflections of his voice, the wryness, to try to distract herself from her body’s urges. It seemed to work after a minute and she felt the twisting of her stomach start to lessen. Hesitantly, Navia lifted from the bucket, her eyes watery with tears and her face far paler than usual. “It’s not worth you worrying about,” she answered dully to give Théadan a reason why she tried to leave without letting him know what was wrong. She’d grown so used to the waves upsetting her stomach that it was nothing new to her. She just didn’t want to alarm him. Bringing her hand up to her mouth, she wiped at her lips before reaching for the waterskin to take a cautiously take a sip.<br/><br/>She didn’t actually take a sip though, instead pausing when her near-black eyes drifted over to Wyndagar. His own dark eyes were watching them, but she could tell by the way his head hung low and his legs quivered that he was not doing much better than her. Her heart twisted for the horse, knowing how unhappy he had been since boarding the ship. It was not an ideal place for a horse in the least and guilt tugged at her for putting him through so much. “Go be with Wyndagar, not me,” Navia said on impulse, then realized that was exactly what she wanted of Théadan. Eyes pleading, she reached out to push at his arm to convince him to go. “I’m fine, this is nothing I haven’t dealt with before,” she could at least give him that much in hopes he would listen, “Go talk to him. Look how scared he is; your voice will calm him.”<br/><br/>A piercing crack of thunder sounded above them, causing her to glance up at the wooden ceiling before Navia could feel the ship rising up again. Anticipating that meant another harsh drop that would surely lead to her stomach unable to help itself, she abandoned the waterskin to ready the bucket. “Have him lay down, Théadan,” she suggested, “It might make him less queasy and keep him from falling if he loses his balan—“ And then Navia could no longer speak, for the downward drag of the ship on the jarring waves sent her body into another nauseated fit. The bile rose up, burning her esophagus and mouth, and she vomited into the bucket again, again, and again. Once her body started, it seemed like it wouldn’t stop. It brought more tears to her eyes and even a couple whimpering sobs from how unsettling it was. Navia ended up trembling strongly over the bucket and slumped against the wall with her arm once again slung across the top of the bucket only this time for support, the spasms in her chest and stomach wracking her body.