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“I told you eating pudding with garlic would be a bad idea.”
Tempest was currently standing next to Ornstein, holding his ponytail while the dragon slayer was busy puking his guts out. There really wasn’t a nicer way to say it, it made Tempest feel sick just by listening to it and he didn’t even had to eat anything anymore.
“It was… fine… when I ate it… three days… ago…”, Ornstein choked out when his body gave him a small break, only for him to gag even more violently into the privy. Tempest almost felt sorry for the inanimate thing, until he remembered that it probably had seen a lot worse things in its lifetime.
“Well, and why did you think a pudding would still be fine after three days? I forgot to put it away, it just stood there and has obviously gotten bad.”, Tempest murmured, punctuating his sentence with a rakish hand gesture, which Ornstein couldn’t see with his head buried in the privy.
“Was hungry…”, Ornstein managed between waves of vomit, “You slept… didn’t want to wake…”
“I am UNDEAD, Ornstein!”, Tempest piped up. “I only sleep so that I don’t have to be alone at night! You could have woken me!”
Ornstein’s gagging and retching stopped, but he didn’t reply to Tempest. He breathed heavily and leaned against the wall.
“Is it over, Ornstein?”, Tempest asked, doubting it. An upset stomach normally would need a few hours to calm down. Tempest got his answer when Ornstein suddenly clutched his stomach and then pretty much kicked him out.
“Little Storm, LEAVE!”, he said and shut the door to the privy. Tempest could only wince in sympathy when he heard the sounds. He knew that Ornstein would be mortified if he knew that Tempest had stayed around and listened, so he left. He got a bucket and carried it to Ornstein’s room, then he went to Smough’s herbal garden.
“With him having such heavy symptoms, chamomile should help…”, Tempest murmured and searched for the white coloured blossoms. It was a good thing that he made sure to take care of the garden whenever they were in Anor Londo. He found a few dried up blossoms and took them to the kitchen.
He took a kettle and filled it with some water, then he prepared the chamomile to be steeped while he waited for the water to cook. As he was busy, he could see how Ornstein staggered along the kitchen. Oh, he was looking pale and sweaty and not good at all. Tempest wondered a bit why he had decided to leave the privy though.
“Little Storm, why… did you leave….”, Ornstein asked once he noticed Tempest in the kitchen.
“Because you told me to leave, remember, you dork?”, Tempest said half jokingly, but felt bad about it right away, even though Ornstein called him an idiot regularly. He was clearly not feeling well.
“I made some tea.”, he said, filling the prepared tea pot with the currently hot water. “It still needs to steep though. Come, we'll get you to bed in the meantime.”
“I don’t know if this… is a good.. idea.”, Ornstein said, clasping a hand in front of his mouth, suppressing a gag.
“I put a bucket in your bedroom.”, Tempest said. “You will certainly feel better when you lie on a soft mattress instead of the hard floor in front of the privy.”
Ornstein didn’t seem to have strength to argue and so he simply followed Tempest, who took the dragon slayer’s hand and led him to his bedroom. Right after they entered, Ornstein swallowed thickly.
“Little Storm, I-”, was all he got out as warning before he got sick again. Tempest had never acted so fast in his life ever before, holding the bucket in front of Ornstein before the floor could get stained.
“It’s not the first time I have seen you vomit but it is certainly the worst you ever got sick.”, Tempest said as he held Ornstein’s ponytail out of the way again. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, garlic smelled even more extreme when it came back up again.
“I am regretting… things.”, Ornstein brought out between waves of nausea, then buried his head in the bucket again, making sounds that Tempest never thought were possible to come from Ornstein.
“Well, I don’t regret having wiped up your puddle the first time it happened.”, Tempest grinned at the memory, back when he and Ornstein still had hated each other. When Ornstein had a remark for this, he either kept it to himself or was too busy puking to talk.
After Ornstein was done for the moment, Tempest watched as he stumbled into bed and looked at the ceiling. “I feel horrible…”, he murmured.
“It will be over soon. I will get the tea, that might help calm your stomach down.”
And if the tea would fail, it at least would help get all the bad stuff out of Ornstein’s stomach faster.
Tempest returned to the kitchen and got the tea pot along with a tea cup. When he returned, Ornstein was still staring at the ceiling. At least there didn’t seem to be new vomit in the bucket.
“Here is your tea, Ornstein.”, Tempest said, putting the tea pot on the small table and preparing to pour it into the brought cup, but Ornstein stopped him.
“Little Storm, wait… can you get… the tea cup out of my luggage…?”
“Um, alright.”, Tempest said and searched through Ornstein’s luggage. He found the tea cup easily, marvelling a bit at it. It was shaped like a dragon and the handle was the tail.
“What a fitting cup for you.”, he grinned and poured the tea into it, handing it to Ornstein. The dragon slayer just stared at it but made no move actually drinking it.
“I don’t feel safe drinking this…”, he said.
“Ornstein, you have to.”, Tempest said. “You must already be dehydrated. Even if it comes out again, it is better than to not drink anything. Try at least. For me.”
Ornstein glanced at him and then slowly drank from the cup. Very very slowly indeed. At least he got some liquids back inside of him.
“This cup was a gift…”, Ornstein suddenly said. “It’s… it’s kind of comforting for me. I often would… drink out of it while sick…”
It was rare for Ornstein to share things about his past, especially such things which were about how he had felt weak. Tempest enjoyed these quiet moments, he enjoyed it when Ornstein shared more of who he really was with him.
“I hope it manages to make you feel better then.”, Tempest said.
Ornstein nodded at his words and continued to drink the tea. For a while, Tempest thought that it was over, but then Ornstein suddenly doubled over, gasping. “It’s starting again!” and spent the next half hour puking his guts out again.
This cycle continued for several hours. Once the sun set and the moon rose instead, a full moon like every night in Anor Londo, Ornstein hadn’t puked or hadn’t had to run to the privy for a full hour anymore.
“I think it’s better….”, he murmured.
“Well then.”, Tempest smiled, not looking forward to cleaning out two buckets full of vomit now, “I’ll go and cook you some oatmeal.”
“Do you really think I should eat something…”, Ornstein asked, his face expressing nothing but uncertainty.
“It can’t hurt to try.”, Tempest said. “Besides, if it really gets bad again… I’ll find a third bucket.”