Hir Last Sip: Fantasy

The glass shook uncontrollably in hir hand as hir lifted it to hir lips. The liquid inside was a rich vermilion. The smell was cinnamony. Hi closed hir eyes and swallowed. The liquid passed hir lips in a smooth rush, as if it had been waiting patiently for hir assent. The thought that that was even possible made hir shudder more than the pleasant taste. At the shudder, two priestly attendants rushed forward from behind their alcoves and seized hir arms. "No," hi protested. "It's not a reaction." The words came out in a jumble that hi didn't recognize, in a voice that was not hir own.


Inspiration: A glass of water.
Story Potential: Medium. Interesting, but I have no idea where it would go from here.
Finished Length: Short story. The whole non-gendered thing would become wearisome over the course of an entire novel.
Notes: What *is* the nongendered version of s/he? I'm pretty sure it's not 'hi' or 'one'. . . . I think there's an actual one.