i know that you're tired. Who: Almalexia Lliryn & Storm Kapur What: “Once I have completed my rounds, I should like to check upon your current state.” Where: Cathedral. When: Last week. Rating: Mentions of death & disease. Status: Complete.
Typing soon became too difficult an endeavour. Hands falling to his sides, communicator buzzing unanswered on the side table, Storm stared up at the ceiling. When he squinted, he almost imagined that he saw dragons soaring across the flat stone-sky. Would that he could be among them, he thought—but he was not so far gone that he could not chide himself for his useless flight of fancy. He closed his eyes.
The boy might have fallen asleep (or perhaps he did, briefly) were it not for the creak of the door. Storm turned his head (and even this gesture was not without some strain). “Hello?” he greeted, voice hoarse.
“Have I woken you?” Lex lingered in the doorway, peering over to the bed and its inhabitant. Even after hours upon hours of attending to the ailing and the dying, she could feel her chest constrict at the squire’s worsening state. It took effort, in her exhaustion, to smooth her expression into one of calm and comfort.
Inwardly, she knew the degree by which this sickness had taken its toll on her heart. Along with another dear to her, Lionel--kept bedridden in a room of his own, it seemed at times as if her world was threatening to crumble. Even her gratitude that Rictor had not fallen into infirmity as well seemed consumed by the enormity of the circumstances around her.
Lex pushed these other concerns aside and took a long breath. She stepped inside. Walking over to the bedside chair, she lingered over his bed for a moment, a hand almost yearning to seek Storm’s own--to offer some small manner of comfort. “I apologize, I had meant to visit much earlier.”
“It is nothing to apologise for,” the boy said. He attempted a weak smile, but the expression appeared far more like a grimace. “I am happy to see you well.”
Even in this state, however, Storm could see the tiredness that strained upon the woman’s bearing. He took in a shaky gulp of air, adding, “Have you been working long?”
He had seen his own desperation mirrored in the mages that attended to him, after all. They muttered among themselves when they thought he was sleeping, and there was nothing in their words to give him hope. The death toll was mounting even as the numbers of diseased did. There was not a cure to be found as yet, the palliative treatments slowly flagging in efficacy.
Storm could not say he was terribly surprised.
“As long as necessary,” she said, which wasn’t much of a definitive indication either way. Lex had no desire for others to concern themselves on her regard, not when so many others deserved the attention. And as for Storm himself, she would much rather him concentrate on healing and the matters of tomorrow than anything else--for there would, she determined, be a tomorrow for the young squire, and many more after.
The mage took a seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. As tired as she might’ve been, she was quite determined to keep him company. “Have any others visited today?”
“Conan,” he replied. “And Morgayne.” Storm could not recall if he had ever mentioned the latter squire, and so he went on, “She is a squire, too.”
He drew another breath before continuing. “I was worried the disease might be contagious, that they ought not have visited at all.” His brow furrowed, as though the boy were still concerned that his best friends had taken the risk. And then dark eyes wandered over to Lex, concern for her person mounting as well.
As for the mage, Lex had already been well-informed on the nature of this illness, and had spent enough time at similar bedsides conducting what treatment the Cathedral could offer--with the experience to understand her odds and the innate determination to keep her rooted at his side in either circumstance, she didn’t so much as flinch.
Instead, and it was with a hesitation perhaps finally outmatched by concern (if only for the squire), Lex found it in herself to offer a small gesture of comfort. She placed a hand gently on his forehead, hoping to alleviate some of his worry, or her own. Such physical gestures were not something inherently natural to her, but she supposed certain people were taking their influence.
“You needn’t be,” she said, her voice soft and measured (but inside, already she could feel herself at the edges of her endurance). “Conserve your energy, Storm, and concentrate only on recovery. I am relieved to hear your friends have visited.” Lex paused to wonder if she should broach the topic of family as well, but decided to refrai
“I will,” he said, the words a tremulous exhalation. Shadows were winding around the corners of his vision, Lex’s features barely discernible against the motley haze of shape and colour. Storm focused on the light sensation of her touch on his brow, his eyes falling shut once more. Only to sleep, but, at a glance, the pallor of the plague made just as likely a more permanent repose.
“You ought to rest as well, Lex.”
She brushed her hand through the boy’s hair gently, watching as he began to fall asleep. Lex held in a breath. “Perhaps.”