RP: Not So Good
Date: 16 March 2006 Characters: Seamus Finnigan and Cormac McLaggen Location: Their place, and then the shack. Private/Public: Private Rating: PG Warnings: None Summary: Seamus has taken a turn for the worse.
Seamus let out a shaky breath, wrapping the blankets tightly around his shoulders as another chill went through his body. Even that small movement had him nearly crying from the pain. A pox mark on his shoulder busted open, bloody puss shooting out onto his bed. It was so disgusting that he started to retch, and he barely grabbed the bucket in time as he began vomiting.
His head was pounding even more when he finished, and he squeezed his eyelids shut, letting out a low growl of frustration. When he opened his eyes, the room started spinning, and he vomited again, this time unable to make it to the bucket in time.
If he'd had the energy, he would have whined about how disgusting it was to be laying in a pile of his own bile, but as it was, even that made him hurt.
He closed his eyes again, pressing the side of his face against the clean section of his pillow, taking a deep breath as he tried to calm his stomach down. When the wave of nausea subsided, he opened his eyes again and looked up at the ceiling, unable to help himself from screaming at what he saw.
An old woman, transparent and cloaked in a white, filmy gown stared down at him. She opened her mouth wide, letting out a loud, ghostly wail. Seamus screamed again, absolutely petrified. He'd always feared the wail of the banshee, even more when he actually saw her. She was always wailing for the loss of one of his family members, always the night before they died.
She watched him sadly, the melancholy wail mixing with his screams. He was so absolutely petrified that he didn't notice his door slam open. Didn't notice when Cormac ran into his room and began calling out his name.