upstairs, room 1701D - IMDB flu
Dec. 15th, 2009 01:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
visible_sarielSariel did go directly upstairs after talking to Captain Kirk. Yes, the staircase did wobble a little underfoot and yes, she did have to pause once or twice to muffle a sneeze, but up she went. She'd told a superior officer that she was going, she wouldn't have used the door back to her universe even if it was there and besides, she really did feel horrible.
the first thing she does, once she's closed the door, is reach for the spare quilt folded on the seat of her desk chair. Scottish winters are cold when you're a child of the tropics, doubly so when you've got a fever. Dazedly, she thinks of thanking Bar, or the landlord, or the waitrats... someone, certainly, for that quilt once she isn't ill. That leaves her wondering why her landlord's been in her apartment without telling her first, but then she has to stifle a sneeze, then another, and things start to get rather confused.
She's in Atlanta.
She's in deep space.
she's in Castries.
she's in Milliways.
Achoo!
In short order or at least, short order for the congested and slightly dizzy, she's curled up on the bed. She's fully clothed and be-quilted besides, muffling the more-than-occasional sniffle and shivering despite the layers of warm fabric covering her. She's in Atlanta-Scotland-Saint Lucia-Milliways-crew quarters, and her name is Sariel-Julie-Winnie-Vanessa. Her head throbs.
The comforter she's wrapped in is patterned with tiny multicolored stars.
the one beneath her shows a tracery of leafy vines.
Her head spins.
the first thing she does, once she's closed the door, is reach for the spare quilt folded on the seat of her desk chair. Scottish winters are cold when you're a child of the tropics, doubly so when you've got a fever. Dazedly, she thinks of thanking Bar, or the landlord, or the waitrats... someone, certainly, for that quilt once she isn't ill. That leaves her wondering why her landlord's been in her apartment without telling her first, but then she has to stifle a sneeze, then another, and things start to get rather confused.
She's in Atlanta.
She's in deep space.
she's in Castries.
she's in Milliways.
Achoo!
In short order or at least, short order for the congested and slightly dizzy, she's curled up on the bed. She's fully clothed and be-quilted besides, muffling the more-than-occasional sniffle and shivering despite the layers of warm fabric covering her. She's in Atlanta-Scotland-Saint Lucia-Milliways-crew quarters, and her name is Sariel-Julie-Winnie-Vanessa. Her head throbs.
The comforter she's wrapped in is patterned with tiny multicolored stars.
the one beneath her shows a tracery of leafy vines.
Her head spins.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-22 11:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 03:34 am (UTC)"Demeter?" That, at least, is undeniably Sariel's own voice, properly-accented, small even for her, and scared. "I don't think I can be alone tonight."
no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 04:44 am (UTC)Again she pulls her close and smooths her hair, for no one should be alone with a fever and an uncertainty of who they are.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-23 06:44 pm (UTC)clickclick click clickclickclick click
not think the expression so undue after all. "Thank you," Sariel says simply, and maybe a little shakily. "Thank you very much."
And all manner of things shall be--
no subject
Date: 2009-12-26 05:26 pm (UTC)Demeter won't leave her, she will hold her and rock her and make her better through the long and strange night.
no subject
Date: 2009-12-27 12:04 am (UTC)Far as in lightyears.
Sariel doesn't say that much; Sariel rarely does. She leans, to be sure, nestles beneath quilts and blankets, dreams.
Julie dreams of wailing sirens and red lights, color seeping into color as a young man lies bleeding. Vanessa dreams that her world is exploding, once, twice. Maybe more. Winnie dreams she's half raising a child who's not her own, dreams of watching her family's third generation flourish while the first fades black to grey in a slow breath.
Sariel dreams of white sand and groves of banana plants, of a tiny girl with inherited curls, of familiar faces and starfields and intangible wings, of blades with jagged edges and - clickclick clickclick click clickclickclick - half-remembered scenes.
At least once, Sariel's dreams become a nightmare.
She'll very likely be terribly embarrassed once she's in her right mind again, but object to Demeter being there?
Never in life. Not even close.
And eventually, tel God thankya for small mercies, Sariel does sleep peacefully. How long is debatable, but at least it's a start.