Chapter Text
It was nearly exactly a month after moving into his newly built home, so early in the morning that it could be argued it was still night, the commune quiet in the morning air, that found him nearly throwing himself to the floor, scrambling out of bed in the dark.
He wasn’t even fully conscious yet, not really, but he was conscious enough to know he had to get out of bed, and it would not wait. Philza wasn’t even thinking about what he was doing, if he was going to wake his crows, as he ran to the edge of his landing, hands clamped over his mouth as his stomach turned, rolled, twisted and pushed him to his limits at the sudden wave of such intense sickness. He barely managed to get to the edge, his ruined wings flared out behind him, before his control was completely lost. He found himself dropping to his knees, gripping the edge of the landing as his stomach emptied itself of everything he had eaten before going to bed into the snow below.
Philza barely registered the sound of the crows around him waking up, their feathers fluffing up and confused little caws filling the air, before those that were awake came to surround him in a flurry of wings. He couldn’t look at the gathered crows, couldn’t welcome them to the morning like usual, and could only focus on the way his stomach squeezed, tightening up and forcing everything out of it, until nothing remained. Until he gagged on air, nothing more to give from his poor spent body, while he gathered up what spit he could to clear his mouth and sinuses.
Disgusting.
Gods above, he hated throwing up… It always burned the back of his throat and left a bitter taste. The positive was hardly out weighting what had happened, but at the very least he felt a bit better now.
If only a little.
Well, he wasn't trying to make another mad dash for the edge, even if his stomach was still twisting in knots and trying to threaten another reappearance of whatever it could find to throw at him, that had to count for better. It was what he told himself, anyways.
As the last of his sudden burst of energy faded, he slumped down, collapsing fully onto the planks below him as he tried to catch his breath. His body ached, his stomach still rolled, but he couldn’t make himself get up. He had only woken up with the knowledge that he was going to throw up, that there was no stopping it, and all he could do was get somewhere where the clean up would be easiest. That left the ladder out in his barely conscious state. With being so high up with his broken wings, and not trusting himself to go down the ladder…
He had chosen the only option he had left.
“Fuck… Gonna have to clean that up in the morning,” he moaned quietly to himself, eyes still closed as he tried to relax, tried to let his poor body rest. Part of him wondered if he could just go back to sleep right there, on the balcony, his head nearly over the edge, but a cold gust of air chose that moment to blow through. He decided against sitting in the freezing air as he shivered, and managed to draw himself up off the floor. Carefully, he scooted away from the edge, ignoring the sounds of the night below. At least the monsters of the night hadn’t noticed him and decided to take the moment he was puking his guts out to shoot an arrow through his skull, or break down his door. There was that going for him, at least.
One point for that in the good category, a million more in the other for... everything else.
He wasn’t even thinking of the crows right then, had nearly completely forgotten about them as he curled up inside the roof of his little home, unwilling to try to make it to bed and choosing that spot to rest his eyes. It was only when he felt the touch of cold, nearly frozen, glass against his bare cheek that he let out a yelp and jerked away from the touch. Only to find himself staring at a confused crow, a filled bottle at its feet.
philza is Sickza
Gotta keep hydrated.
hydration is important
sickza needs water so he can be healthyza
gotta help the poor old man feel better
“Oh,” he managed to mumble, sleepily grabbing the bottle and popping the cork. “‘issis water, innit? I don’t need ya lil shits trying to fuckin’… Shove regen down my throat or anything right now. I don't think I could even keep it down if ya did.”
An insulted caw left the crow and it turned its head away in anger, fluffing up and taking a few steps as if to shun him. Oh, the dramatics were making a return. It was too early for this.
You insult chat? You insult us? Jail for Father! Jail for Father for One Thousand Years!
dadza doesn’t trust us. so not pog.
no trust for poor chat.
Chat can have a little trust? As a treat?
we want you healthy, phil. not throwing up more.
trust us for once.
He rolled his eyes at the dramatics of it all, before taking an experimental sniff of the liquid to make sure of its contents and downing it as quickly as he could. Hopefully, that wouldn’t upset his stomach too much. It was just water, after all. Keeping hydrated would be important if he was going to keep throwing up like this. Hell, even just the one time was enough for him to know he needed to drink some water.
“Thank you, mate. 'ppreciate you bringing it up. Are ya gonna let me go back to sleep now, or are ya gonna insist it’s morning feeding time?” he asked as he fought back a yawn, putting the cork back in the empty bottle and setting it to the side. The crow turned to look at him again, cawing in that shrill way they always did when they wanted something from him, and he did his best to listen.
Bed.
dadza sleepin on the floor? not pog
You’re sick.
get in the bed old man.
bed bed bed bed bed bed bed bed
food can wait. bed for Dadza.
bedza for sickza
rest phil.
Bedpog
A groan left him as their words washed over him, one hand coming up to scrub his face as the bird continued to chatter on. Insisting he was to get back into bed, instead of sleeping on the floor where he currently laid. “I hear ya, I hear ya… I know I need to get back in bed. But if I fuckin’… If I get sick again, I wanna be closer to the edge. I don’t wanna have to scrub puke out the floorboards. It’ll be hell. Do you want the whole attic to smell like puke for the rest of forever?"
But youll sleep there?
old man needs his sleep.
SleepForPhilza2021
dont want a sick dadza
Im worried about you phil
Sickza :(
should we get techno?
“I know. I know you’re worried,” he sighed, and reached up to scratch at the feathers on the bird’s cheek, noticing that they didn’t exactly relax, but at least leaned into his touch. It was better than the worried fretting that nagged at the back of his mind with their words, at least. “I hear you, Chat. Please let Techno sleep though, I’ll be fine. I promise I can make it until morning. Don’t wake him up just cause I threw up once.”
Okay. Wake up techno. Got it.
i f you promise to sleep...
so............ wake up techno?
What if you throw up again?
But... Sickza...
“Oi! Don’t wake him up, gods damn it, you little... I ain't dying just cause I threw up once. I’ll be fine. Look, I even promise I’ll go back to sleep, but I ain’t fuckin’.... Gettin’ back in bed right now. I’m almost sure I’ll end up throwing up again, and I don’t wanna throw up in bed just tryna get back over to the edge. ‘m too weak to get down the ladder right now to get a bucket either. I’ll be fine right here,” he assured through an exhausted yawn, drawing his arm back and curling in on himself to try and conserve as much of his body heat as he could.
He knew he wouldn’t- couldn’t- freeze to death, but it didn’t stop him from feeling the cold biting lightly at his skin as the air blew in from his balcony. He should really see about maybe putting up a wall there. A door. Keeping a bucket up here for future stuff like this. More projects he could work on in the morning. Something to keep him occupied, to keep his mind away from...
From everything.
It was fine. There was nothing to talk about. There was nothing he was running away from or refusing to think about. Everything was fine.
The crow seemed to think on that, turning back to the members of the flock that were awake. They exchanged a few noises that were almost too loud for him this early in the morning, almost loud enough that he worried they might wake Techno, before they all took to their air, and flew to his bed. Before he could begin to protest, could begin to yell at them that they knew they weren’t allowed to sleep on his bed with or without him, the birds all grabbed at his thickest quilt. Had they been smaller birds, or perhaps smaller in number, he was sure they wouldn’t have been able to do what they did. All of his protests died in his throat as instead of trying to steal his bed like he had originally expected, the crows grabbed his quilt, and simply… Brought it to him.
“Mate, ya didn’t have to do that,” he laughed weakly, but all the same, he took the quilt, and tucked it in against himself. It did wonders to fight the biting chill of the artic air coming in from his open balcony, at least. “I coulda got up and got it myself. But… Thank you. Does this mean you’ll let me go back to sleep then?”
For a moment, no words came, nothing but beady black eyes staring at him. It was as if he was just talking to a bunch of normal crows, unable to understand a word he said and just seeing him as a crazy old man. Then, his flock swarmed him. In an instant, they were pressing their bodies up against him and snuggling in close, pressing themselves as close to him as they could possibly get. A quiet laugh escaped his lips as he realized that they were doing their best to keep him warm and safe, and he hunkered down, snuggling into the quilt.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled, unable to suppress the yawn that followed. He could worry about everything else in the morning. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep. He let his eyes drift shut, no longer bothering to fight it now that his flock had decided to let him rest where he lay. In the morning, he'd put up a wall. He'd bring a bucket up to rest beside his bed, just in case. He'd hide the evidence, hopefully before anyone could see and ask any questions that he didn't have any answers to. That he didn't want to try to find any answers to.
Right now, he just wanted to sleep. Nothing else mattered, as his thoughts drifted away.
As Philza drifted off into the realm of dreams, the exhaustion thick in his voice, he managed to mumble out, “G'night guys," just before sleep overtook him.