Post by Avu on Aug 18, 2009 19:18:20 GMT -5
Are you sure you feel better?
Linoth’s anxious query was pressed into the mind of Hers as Sikowy sank onto her couch, curling her hands around a mug of some kind of herbal tea and pulling a blanket around her shoulders, one hand reaching up to touch her own forehead. Yes, fever – she could just barely think straight through the splitting headache, and more than anything, she just wanted to sleep – but Linoth had to be assured. Linoth could not worry about her…I’m perfectly fine, Linoth. It’s just – just a cold; it’ll be over with soon enough, she stated brightly, mentally as always, since Linoth was deaf. Probably a good thing that the green couldn’t hear her coughing, couldn’t hear the stuffed, thick quality of her voice. Likewise, she was doing a good deal so that the green didn’t fret about the other symptoms, blocking her out as well as she could. It was upsetting, the necessity of it…but she couldn’t possibly worry Linoth. Poor green…she was much happier thinking that Hers was just fine.
Honestly, though, she was more than a little worried. She’d excused herself from Healer duties over two sevendays ago because of what she and the other Healers thought was the flu. It had all the right symptoms – and she’d treated it as the flu. Near the end of the sevenday, however, Sikowy was convinced that it wasn’t the flu: At first, her chest had just started to hurt and she’d ignored it, assuming she was delirious again – but there was nothing delirious about coughing up blood, weight loss that defied the fact that she forced herself to eat every day – and it was forcing; she no longer had any appetite – and the chills that shook her during day and night. Something was definitely wrong, and though she’d been treating the symptoms and hoping for it to pass, it hadn’t.
She’d almost dozed off when Linoth keened low on the ledge, and Sikowy forced her eyes open, wrapping her blanket even tighter around her until she resembled little more than a black-haired, extremely pale-faced sausage. What’s wrong? she asked sluggishly, nervously.
Benath – Benath says His is sick, too, the green said, her voice echoing her Rider’s insecurity. And Russeth says His is as well. They have…colds, too. Like yours, except it hasn’t been as long. They will get better too, won’t they, SiMine?
It took a moment to process. Benath – blue Benath – that meant A’viar, and brown Russeth meant Q’in. They were sick, too…? Well, at least, Sikowy thought, reassuring Linoth that they would, indeed, get better, they seemed to be the only three…and of course they would get better. It was just a passing sickness. They were all young, strong…they could take it.
But as time went on, it became clear that they could not take it…and they were not the only ones to fall ill.
The Epidemic had struck hard and fast, and had no intention of giving up its advantage.
Linoth’s anxious query was pressed into the mind of Hers as Sikowy sank onto her couch, curling her hands around a mug of some kind of herbal tea and pulling a blanket around her shoulders, one hand reaching up to touch her own forehead. Yes, fever – she could just barely think straight through the splitting headache, and more than anything, she just wanted to sleep – but Linoth had to be assured. Linoth could not worry about her…I’m perfectly fine, Linoth. It’s just – just a cold; it’ll be over with soon enough, she stated brightly, mentally as always, since Linoth was deaf. Probably a good thing that the green couldn’t hear her coughing, couldn’t hear the stuffed, thick quality of her voice. Likewise, she was doing a good deal so that the green didn’t fret about the other symptoms, blocking her out as well as she could. It was upsetting, the necessity of it…but she couldn’t possibly worry Linoth. Poor green…she was much happier thinking that Hers was just fine.
Honestly, though, she was more than a little worried. She’d excused herself from Healer duties over two sevendays ago because of what she and the other Healers thought was the flu. It had all the right symptoms – and she’d treated it as the flu. Near the end of the sevenday, however, Sikowy was convinced that it wasn’t the flu: At first, her chest had just started to hurt and she’d ignored it, assuming she was delirious again – but there was nothing delirious about coughing up blood, weight loss that defied the fact that she forced herself to eat every day – and it was forcing; she no longer had any appetite – and the chills that shook her during day and night. Something was definitely wrong, and though she’d been treating the symptoms and hoping for it to pass, it hadn’t.
She’d almost dozed off when Linoth keened low on the ledge, and Sikowy forced her eyes open, wrapping her blanket even tighter around her until she resembled little more than a black-haired, extremely pale-faced sausage. What’s wrong? she asked sluggishly, nervously.
Benath – Benath says His is sick, too, the green said, her voice echoing her Rider’s insecurity. And Russeth says His is as well. They have…colds, too. Like yours, except it hasn’t been as long. They will get better too, won’t they, SiMine?
It took a moment to process. Benath – blue Benath – that meant A’viar, and brown Russeth meant Q’in. They were sick, too…? Well, at least, Sikowy thought, reassuring Linoth that they would, indeed, get better, they seemed to be the only three…and of course they would get better. It was just a passing sickness. They were all young, strong…they could take it.
But as time went on, it became clear that they could not take it…and they were not the only ones to fall ill.
The Epidemic had struck hard and fast, and had no intention of giving up its advantage.
