In Sickness

[andhiswife]

This is absurd. Greta's always been a hardy sort, and none of the children at the Gardens have been ill enough for her to notice. But she's picked up a cold from somewhere.

'A cold' feels like too simple a diagnosis for the riotous state of her body, though. She feels as if she has at least three different illnesses at once: feverish, joints aching, throat scratchy, sinuses a stuffy, drippy mess. The doctor had referred to it, in that deliberately unflappable manner that doctors have about them, as an 'unusually robust immune response' and sent her home with antibiotics that don't seem to be doing a bloody thing.

It's bad enough that she's given in and started using tissues. Well, they're far enough removed from actual paper that she can pretend they're something else, and she doesn't possess enough handkerchiefs to otherwise cope with the onslaught.

Ugh.

Thomas has been a godsend, of course. And though she feels a bit bad that he's missing work at the shop to tend to her, she also can't deny that it's a small comfort to be fussed over.

So long as it doesn't get too fussy. When one of her coughing jags causes a stricken look to flicker across his features, she feels obliged to give the poor man an out. "You could go to the shop, you know," she tries to insist. It's admittedly hard to sound insistent when you sound a bit like you're dying. "I'm not going anywhere." She gestures vaguely at the bed she's in no condition to leave, then plucks a fresh tissue from the box.

Comments

[andhiswife]

"I don't know," she says, the post-fit hoarseness making her sound even more wretched than she feels. "With the way Darrow works, she might have arrived here years before I did." Long enough to assimilate, to some degree -- dress in normal clothes, find a less alarming shade for her hair. Long enough to find a job that doesn't even involve magic, because she hadn't had much at the end, had she? A Witch with real power wouldn't have done so much negotiating with a rampaging Giant.

"It would be rather fitting, her tormenting bakers for a living," she mutters as Thomas shepherds her back over to the couch. "Right up her alley." The Witch would appreciate the irony.

She sits down, and finally gives Thomas -- poor, worried Thomas -- her full attention, shaking her head at his question. "I'm fine, dearest. Sorry, that was... I didn't mean to be so, er, dramatic." She picks up her still-warm tea and takes a sip, soothing her throat and steadying her hands. "I just... never thought I'd see that face again." And she hadn't minded the idea. She could have gone the rest of her unanticipated after-life not seeing the Witch, and been perfectly happy about it.

[very_sharpe]

"No, you aren't usually very dramatic," he said kindly. Thomas picked up his own tea to take a fortifying sip of it. "And I must imagine, if I happened to see Lucille's likeness on our television screen, I might have been just as dramatic. Maybe a bit worse in terms of my horrific denial."

If he was honest with himself, Thomas actually had no idea how he'd react to seeing Lucille again, especially seeing her in Darrow. She'd killed him for wanting a better life, and she'd done it violently.

"Let's just quietly hope it's one of Darrow's very strange coincidences, and that she isn't actually your Witch."

[andhiswife]

Greta hums, and while it's in a mostly acquiescing key, she can't wash all the dubiousness out of the sound. 'Quietly hoping' has not, in her experience, been a winning strategy. Even now, beneath the haze of cold medication and the lassitude that burst of adrenaline has left behind, part of her is still ticking over the possibilities.

Can anyone enter this baking competition? Maybe if she got closer to 'Paula,' and actually met her...

She tucks the idea away, like dough that needs time to rise. "Yes, you're right," she says, letting her head briefly drop to his shoulder. "It's probably just... Darrow."

Funny how just saying the city's name can encompass such a wide variety of nonsense.