The scent of a mediterranean summer, with the dizzying blend of florals and the salt-spray of the sea, dissipated into the breeze as Waver wiped his lips. For a brief, wild instant he wondered if a certain ancient king, the man that conquered so much of the world that dozens upon dozens of cities still bore his name, had encountered this flower, drank it's nectar, and sat under it's drowsy, fern-like branches.

...Odds were that yes, Iskandar-- Alexander the Great himself-- had many encounters with the surreal flowering tree that would eventually be called albizia julibrissen. He would ask about that later.

Upon feeling the effects of the foreign flesh magic that bore down on him with the weight of a star start to release, he moved quickly. Digging into his pocket, Waver produced a copper coin-- one of many coins from London that he kept on his person, and non-too-gently pressed it against her lips.

"May Mariana show mercy and bring you back into her arms," He uttered quickly. Then, as an afterthought, he added: "Or, at least still your tongue."

Straightening his stance, he then did the smartest thing any man in his position would do.

Run.

The cloak was her's to keep, should she wish.

Should Mariana allow it.

All he cared about was his survival. There were students to attend to, and people that depended on him.

If there was a tingling on his tongue, he ignored it. It was no worse than some of the more questionable potions he had drank over the years.

For now.