Who: Henrik Mikaelson and Open to anyone who is around or narrative What: not feeling so well When: Wednesday morning Where: Marcel’s place
Henrik had gone to bed with plans. He’d see Elijah at some point and he wanted to see Rebekah and Kol and while he might not want to move back to that house he did want to still keep in contact with his other siblings. They weren’t all fighting, or at least he wasn’t seeing it like he had been, and maybe that meant they were filtering him out. But he hadn’t been seeing any of it spill out onto the network like it seemed to all of the other times.
So that had to be good, right?
He liked to think so at least and so he’d gone to sleep feeling uplifted, though still worried about Rebekah and her feeding issues--but they had plans for that, so it would be okay. They’d figure out how to help her. It would just take time.
When he woke though Henrik knew something was wrong. His body ached and he hadn’t done anything extraneous the day before so his muscles shouldn’t have hurt like they were. He was freezing, body shaking under the covers he was trying to curl up under. His hair was matted to his forehead, pillow wet with sweat beneath his head that was pounding in a way he’d never experienced.
Henrik closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down. He knew he was sick and he’d seen what happened to others who were sick in his time. They didn’t always make it and maybe it was different here, but didn’t the TV say that there were children in some other place dying all the time? They wanted money for them.
He coughed, the motion hurting his throat and chest and he grabbed onto the pillow, trying to bury the sound of it in it, to try and quiet the loudness of it all. He needed to let someone know what was going on, to tell Nik or Marcel or Caroline so they could help him, but Henrik didn’t think he could get out of the bed then, and his throat hurt too much to say anything let alone yell for one of them.
Maybe if he slept some more it’d all go away and everything would be okay? That worked sometimes, didn’t it? Maybe there was a spell that could help. He’d ask in a little bit.
Henrik shut his eyes, burying himself further under the covers as he shivered and tried to will himself better.