Who: Andreth What: Old world immune system meets new world disease Where: Vinyamar When: Evening, 5/23 Warnings | Status: Sickness | narrative | complete
Fourteen days. She had been here fourteen days, and had started feeling faint only a few days ago. She had thought it because a change in climate from the city to the heights of Vinyamar, and for living so near to the sea. The elven home had no true windows, but kept thick tapestries over the openings to block the frigid air. And even then the elements didn't disturb them at the same rates it did humans. She was constantly cold, and especially so without Aegnor there. But as she coughed out hacking breath, bent over a bowl of cool water, Andreth was less and less certain of that now. Fourteen days.
The city wasn't very populated, but it was a massive change to the clean airs and mountains of Ladros, and even of Dorthonion. The food was different, there were enough people from different times and places mixing together. Their illnesses were borne in the air and in the water for all she knew. She wasn't very good at medicine and didn't understand disease. She hadn't gotten sick immediately because the numbers weren't all that high, or so she would assume. But now.. now the sicknesses were attacking her, and her immune system wasn't strong enough to fight it off at once. Andreth uttered a low sound of dismay, clutched her chest and sank down to the floor beside the stone tub, dragging a thin cloth to her mouth as she coughed again, covering it up as best she could.
There was no need to alert the Lady and Lord of the House. Surely it would go away? It was simply a cold, and she would get over it soon. If she looked at herself in a mirror she'd see the physical changes though. Her skin was pale, she was feverish--which she felt at the moment--and her face more wan than it had been before. Andreth closed her eyes and forced out a breath, no matter how clouded it felt, and slowly pushed herself to her feet. She dipped her thin, shaky hands into the water and dabbed her face with it.
She would be okay.
Right?
She wanted Aegnor. But she didn't want to concern him either, he would panic. She would panic. There was no need. Binding back her hair in thick braids, Andreth slowly cleaned up the mess she'd made in the private room and turned back to own chambers, passing through Vinyamar on uneasy feet, in the silence of the night. She felt like death, and shivered that death was so close to her door. By the time she got to her room exhaustion swept over her, and she sank down onto the large bed with a soft cry of upset, curling under the blankets to huddle down in a cocoon of warmth. She sank into fever bought dreams but minutes later, her brows creased in worry, sickness and upset.
"Aegnor," she murmured, reaching for him in the dark hours of night, seeking oblivion all the while willing him home. If she was to die she wanted to see him one last time.