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The small room is full of potion ingredients, mismatched clothes and whatever else King has dragged in here in the hope it might help. All of that clutter swallows the sound of her coughs, but Eda can feel it reverberating through her chest.
Lilith lays another blanket on top of her. That’s nice, but it really doesn’t help. She’s hot, and cold, and miserable, and it’s got nothing to do with the temperature outside her body. Her insides are fighting, fighting against the very thing that’s keeping her from turning into a frightened beast and possibly starting a fight with the Coven Heads outside.
It’s taken Eda over four decades to find something she’s really, truly, allergic to, and of course it’s something her sister has given to her.
“I truly am sorry, Edalyn,” Lily says, weirdly formally, the way she gets when she’s trying not to show her guilt. “I’m sure that the next one won’t have these side effects.”
Eda could answer, but her throat is so swollen that every breath is precious. Instead of shredding her vocal cords some more, she motions in the direction her sister is in and pats her arm. They both didn’t expect it to get this bad, after all. Each of these potions comes in batches of twelve, so when the first one’s fumes gave her the sniffles and made her feel a little warm, they both thought she’d be able to toughen it out till the next batch is ripened.
But it’s becoming increasingly clear that ‘toughen it out’ comes pretty close to ‘barely make it’.
The mattress underneath her feels lumpy and soaked with sweat. The pillow forces her neck into a painful position, no matter which way she turns. There’s one more potion sitting on a shelf out of the way, and she’ll have to drink it in a few hours.
Lilith follows her gaze and groans. “I know, I know. King’s trying to find a few things that might help.”
Help… she feels so helpless. Up until now, she couldn’t count on people’s kindness, but she knew most weren’t cruel. If she was in a place like this, surrounded by people, she would have been able to ask for help. Maybe pay the price in the form of owing them something afterwards, but there would have been some way.
Now, this little cell is guarded by enemies that would probably even join her against the Collector, if their mind and body weren’t violated by him. There’s no love lost within her for most of them, but she really hopes they’re all asleep, completely unaware of what is happening, because Raine is among them. She talks to them anyway, every day, and it would be terribly romantic to imagine that they’re waiting for her voice, hearing her talk about her newest idea to get out of this. But at the same time – Titan, she doesn’t want them to go through this. Every day of being forced to stay like this, to stare at the wall or threaten her, must be poison to a brain like theirs, without any input or way to express themself.
Just the thought of Raine being on her other side, touching her arm the same way Lily is doing right now, but with a completely different history, makes her heart ache for herself, too. She remembers how they took care of her, so long ago.
“Your fingers are cold.”
Raine pauses for a second before resuming pulling hair out of her sweaty face. She can feel her skin tingle with the coolness of their touch even after the fingers have left. “Sorry,” they mumble, then grip their own forearm to check. “I think it’s just that you’re burning up.”
She grumbles unhappily when they leave and she hears water somewhere far away, but a minute later, the hands return, much warmer, to rearrange her within the nest: A thick pillow shoved under her head, another blanket tucked next to her – both a wall to press against and possible to pull on top of herself.
“Thank you.” The words scratch over her throat like a brush over a wound. She makes a pained noise and swallows the next one when even that hurts. Her hands shake as she unscrews the bottle, and the water barely eases the pain.
Raine sits down next to her, their pillow shoved aside. “Food will be ready in an hour, then you can take the next potion.”
She doesn’t care about the food at all, apart from the fact that without it, the potion wouldn’t stay down. What she does care about, though, is the fact that she must be highly contagious. “Go ’way,” she croaks, pushes against their hip weakly. “Get sick, too.”
“Already had it,” they answer equally quietly. “It just hit you harder than me.”
There’s no position that doesn’t hurt her in some way, but she finally calms down with her head in their lap. Raine props their scroll against her shoulder, and she dozes off to gentle scritches of her scalp.
King is crying.
It joins the pressure within her head, originating from her cheeks and ears, reverberating into a confusing mixture of sound, flashes of light and pain. Her throat isn’t much better, and she’s given up trying to soothe him with words. It only leads to a worse cough, and she can’t bear to talk through the wetness in her chest.
He’s hungry.
She only knows he’s hungry because he said so.
She should know better than a four-year-old when to cook lunch, but there’s just no hunger left within her.
And he’s so, so clingy. Probably because he notices that she’s sick, possibly because he’s coming down with the same thing. Titan, she hopes he isn’t. His poor little body couldn’t possibly breathe through all the swelling and moisture she’s currently experiencing.
Anyway, she needs to cook. And she’s currently stumbling down the stairs with a wailing toddler in tow.
What could she even make, what does she even have at home?
There’s probably bread and she knows she has canned… something. Maybe some vegetables. Huffing, she leans against the wall at the foot of the stairs. There was minced meat a few days ago, she can’t remember whether she ever made that casserole and if she did, whether they ate it– The dizziness dips into nausea for a second and she nearly folds over, but then she uses the momentum to carry her forward.
Kitchen. She stumbles against the stove, marvels at the fact it’s not turned on and didn’t burn her hand.
The fridge does have the casserole, half-eaten, unwrapped and with a distinct white fuzz on one side of the dish. If it was for her, she might just cut that part away. Instead, she scoops it into the trash, almost shatters the dish when she drops it into the sink.
Eggs. There are eggs in there. She can fry eggs. It’s not that healthy, but it’s food.
The world is dancing around her, the pain that’s sitting on the front of her face pulsating.
By the time the fat is sizzling in the pan, even that smell is enough to make her stumble to the sink and vomit, acid searing her throat and mouth even more, taking the last of her energy with them.
She barely manages to turn off the stove without stepping on–
King is talking to her, and she realises she was drifting.
“–for your throat. And I’m sure if it gets really bad, I can have the Collector come and…” He stops talking when she squeezes his hand. “Eda?”
She tries to answer, only makes herself cough instead.
“Are you even listening?” Lilith’s voice is much closer than expected, and very much more worried than the words imply.
She nods, then shakes her head. She doesn’t know. Is it listening if you only register half of it?
“You need to eat,” Lilith says, clearly enunciated and a bit too loud. Eda flinches away. “Then drink the potion. Then something for the pain.”
“No more potion.” But even as her sister's careful explanations wash over her, she knows: She needs to take it. Turning into the Owl Beast would lead to it panicking in the small room, attacking Lilith or triggering the Coven Heads. Short of dying from the allergy symptoms, anything is better than a preventable life-or-death fight or getting the Collector’s attention.
It’s grilled cheese, again. At least it slides down her throat easily, followed by a few bites of blessedly room-temperate pancakes before she refuses. Lilith puts the plate away and places the bottle of potion against her lips instead, so Eda drinks, tries to ignore the way it sears her raw throat and manages to make her sinuses burn even more just from breathing near it.
Her stomach rolls. Even her body knows this isn’t good for her.
Lilith pulls her into a sitting position, King climbing into her lap and holding her hand. “Everything will work out,” he tells her. She frees her hand, tries to pet his skull, but almost pokes his eye instead. Resignedly, she lets King grab her again, petting her hand now. “I know you’re feeling bad, but it will soon be over.”
This will never be over, only possibly after she’s drowned in her own lungs and King starves, Eda thinks dimly, sitting on the floor next to the stove. She can barely see straight. She can’t even get up and find her crowphone to call anyone for help for him.
King is wailing even harder now, clinging to her side. Her shirt clings to her skin where his face is buried, wet and cool.
There has to… there has to be something she can give him to eat. At least for today. If he’s fed today, maybe tomorrow, she’s strong enough to get the both of them something real. She closes her eyes, lays her head back and tries to think through the mud in her head.
Bread. On the counter. Might not be too hard and hopefully not moldy. Cheese in the fridge.
All she needs to do is pull herself up. It’s not like she’s really dying. Eda pulls herself up. Her head doesn’t get the message, dangling down towards her chest, but she’s standing, and then she’s moving, and then she’s very carefully and slowly sawing at the loaf with the bread knife, and she can’t remember the middle steps.
It almost breaks apart when she tries to put it onto a plate, too thin in some places and too thick in others. It’s bread, tough. Good enough.
Her whole body sways when the next thought comes through: Fridge. Cheese. Don’t trust the ham, probably too old.
It’s a big block. Cold when she puts it onto the counter. Her hands are too shaky to properly cut. Thick slice. Thicker than the bread, will fill him up. Cheese back into fridge. Okay.
She sinks down onto the floor, plate in hand. Puts the cheese onto the bread as if it’s a proper sandwich. It will keep King full some time longer.
For now, all she can do is close her eyes and lean her head back against the door of the fridge.
It’s all she can do to stay upright to get some air into her lungs–
“Oh honey,” Raine murmurs while helping her sit up in the darkness, flat hand slapping her chest again and again until the coughs subside, “oh my poor Calamity.” The soft way they keep talking to her is the only thing in the world that’s not painful. The need to cough is still there, but… it feels like too much work.
Her head lolls forward, then to the side when she tries to lift it. Even the pull on her shoulder muscles from sitting up hurts. She can’t stop the low moan at that, no matter how much she’s trying not to worry Raine.
They make a soothing sound, pulling her into a hug that takes away at least some of the pressure of her own weight pulling in on her. “Eda, I’m worried,” they admit, softly brushing hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure we can do this without a hospital.”
The ‘no’ doesn’t come, but she shakes her head all the same. Her hair drags where it clings to their skin, wet with sweat.
“I know,” they murmur, “I know. But I can’t imagine they really give people sigils against their will, and I’d stay by your side–” Her whole body trembles from the amount of energy shaking her head takes. “Okay. Okay.”
Eda coughs weakly as she’s being handled, held upright with one arm, until the rim of a bottle is pressed to her lips. She can only drink or breathe through her mouth, so every few swallows, Raine stops.
“Ready to try and sleep again?” they ask, and she nods. “Alright.”
But the second they lower her onto her back, it feels as if her chest just locks. The pressure returns with a vengeance, and there’s no way she can properly breathe like–
“Easy, I got you,” Raine soothes while they pull her upright again. “I…” There’s a long pause during which they gently sway with her in their arms.
Eda weakly coughs against their shoulder, too tired to bring her hand up. This is horrible. With the way she can only hang in their grasp and barely sit upright, she feels like a sack of grain being laid down, and picked up again. Now, even Raine is out of ideas.
But then, she’s moved around again. They pull at and lift her, and finally, Eda finds herself leaning against the edge of the nest. “One moment…” She doesn’t try to find out what they’re doing in the darkness next to her. All her energy goes into keeping her body upright, into trying to maintain the only position she can breathe in. “Alright, Calamity, we got this.”
She’s got nothing, but she gladly lets them rearrange once more. It takes her a few seconds to realise that that’s it, that this is the way they want her to stay. A blanket is put on her lap, reaching up her belly.
Raine is now sitting behind her, her head supported by a pillow on their shoulder, arms around her waist. “You alright like this?”
Eda weakly brings up her hand to pet their leg. She’s cushioned between both of theirs, held upright by their body. Her own is still trembling from exhaustion, but… she can let herself relax against the warmth their body and the blanket provide. Shakily, she nods.
Raine’s lips are cool against her flushed skin when they lean forward, give her ear a soft kiss. She tries not to think about the sweat covering her body, when they nuzzle their head against her hair, slowly stroke her.
“I’ve got you,” they whisper into her ear. “You can go back to sleep now.”
Something cool and hard is moving against her throat.
It’s knuckles. Someone is unbuttoning her shirt, hands cold against her, even through the fabric.
She weakly tries to bat the hands away. Only one of hers connects.
“It’s alright, Edalyn, don’t be scared.”
Eda tries to answer, but there’s not enough air in the world to fill her chest. Everything feels swollen, painful and hot. Even swallowing is almost impossible.
She flinches when the other voice speaks up again. “This will help you breathe. Don’t be scared, it will be cold.”
The world has split into a confusing cacophony of impressions, hot, cold, soft, wet fabric, painful skin. She doesn’t know which part of her is cold. That is, until there are icy hands on her chest, the coldness spreading to her insides. She gasps in shock, tries to move away, but the unending heaviness of her body pulls her down against the blanket.
“Don’t– Edalyn, it’s me!” Her eyes don’t focus. But she knows the voice, and whatever is being smeared on her upper chest is already starting to warm up. “Just hold still for a bit, this will help you.”
And indeed, a few breaths later, she feels her nose and throat relaxing the tiniest bit. She can smell, almost taste, the sharp sting of menthol even through her swollen sinuses. All she can do is cough weakly, but even that goes a bit better.
“Would you like some water?” The bottle is held to her lips anyway, and she eagerly drinks the little dribble that comes, listens to the shaky voice with barely any understanding. “You are not allowed to choke on that.”
She still doesn’t really know what’s going on, but it seems to help. Exhausted, she closes her useless eyes and lets her body deal with whatever is wrong with it.
She must have fallen asleep, but a repeated pull on the fabric on her upper arm throws her back awake. King’s claws are ever so slightly poking through it, scratching across her arm.
“I got you water!” She stares into the tiny face, eyes wide with worry. Usually, she finds his big eyes cute. Today, all she wants is to take away the fear that has him so wide-eyed.
Gosh, she feels awful. But… not as awful as she felt before her impromptu nap. Everything still hurts, but the nausea is mostly gone.
King is holding out a mug, and she carefully takes it from him, only to find that it really is half full of tepid water. How did he– oh. There’s a chair pushed up to the counter. “Thank you,” she rasps and gulps it down in tiny sips.
“And food!” He shoves a plate at her that is filled with mostly crumbs, chunks of bread clearly pulled out from the centre with his hands.
He looks so proud of himself, and she lifts a shaky hand, pats his head. Her heart feels heavy with emotions she hasn’t felt in a long time. Her mind is too uneasy to name any of them.
The world still hurts, but she puts mug and plate on the floor next to her to free her hands. Pulls King into her lap. That was enough excitement for him for one day, soon he’ll cling to her anyway and then fall asleep. One hand is enough to eat, the other is busy holding onto him just as much as he presses against her.
“I think… will help.” Raine’s voice is quiet, calm, and just about the best thing in a world that consists of pain, stickiness and too little air. During the day, it’s a bit better, but when she’s not stumbling to and from the bathroom she has only enough energy to blink dazedly at the ceiling and sometimes turn to the side to look at her scroll without having to lift it.
Eda tries to grab at them and do something – pat, hold their hand, anything – but her arm is too uncoordinated, landing on the blanket on the bottom of the nest instead.
“Ugh, that bad?” They settle beside her, still saying things.
The words float around her without making any sense. It doesn’t matter. She’s just happy they’re here. They can do something if it gets really bad. Like last night.
“Alright, don’t be alarmed. …move you. …tell me… stop.” She stares at their face, tries to chase the meaning of their words. Move. Raine grabs her shoulders and deposits her upper body on their lap, something is shoved under her head to keep her more upright. Oh, yes, that helps. Eda closes her eyes again with a sigh and nestles against them.
But instead of letting her try and relax in this way, they softly pat her cheek. “I know you’re really out of it, but… chest, okay? Don’t be startled… cold.”
All she can do is grimace and turn her head away. Cold. Ugh, no.
“Can you answer me?”
And because the worried tone in their voice will never not reach her, she turns back and looks up at Raine, blinking in confusion. She has no idea what they want her to do.
“Okay. I see. Alright.” They brush hair out of her face, gather it behind one shoulder with a deep sigh. “Just hold still. I promise… feel good.”
And then, they do something next to her, something she can’t see, and she’s confused when they put their hand through the collar of her pyjama top. It’s not that they can’t touch her, but why would– and then, something is smeared across her upper chest, across her collar bones and down between her breasts. She tries to relax again when they pull back. It takes a few seconds for the smell to hit her clogged nose, but when it does, she recognises it, sharp and strangely soothing. Eda tries to take deeper breaths, all the while the rub starts to warm up her skin, soothing her lungs from the inside and the outside.
“There. Feels good, doesn’t it?” Raine asks. Their hand lands on her belly, thumb stroking circles. “Alright. If it’s alright with you… maybe we can stay a bit like this.”
She tries to find their face in the colours floating around her. They look… they look exhausted. She brings her hand up to grasp at their fingers and they lean their head against the side of the nest. Eda doesn’t have the energy to do more than feel bad that they’re tired too, so she just closes her eyes and lets her own exhaustion claim her.
Something cool – soothing, cool, not cold-hot like the rest of her body – is pressed to her forehead. She groans in relief and follows the sensation when it’s pulled away.
“I’m glad to see that you’re awake.” The voice is so much more restrained and purposefully flat than the voice in her dreams that Eda is startled back into awareness.
She manages a sound that’s almost a “what”, her throat still nothing but sandpaper rubbing against itself.
“It will please you to– oh. Right. No more bad potion. Is gone. You’re getting better now. Only good potion.” The words are said slowly and clearly, almost condescending, but… she’s heard that tone in her sister’s voice so often. Condescension is Lilith’s go-to when she’s scared, or insecure, or… feeling guilty.
Memories come slowly. She was… sick? No. She was… she can’t remember the word. The potion. An allergy.
“Please don’t be allergic to water nettles,” Lilith murmurs under her breath while she brings the cloth back to her forehead, dabs at her sweaty skin. Eda closes her eyes when the cool cloth travels down her cheek, cleans the sweat away from her neck.
She tries to understand how Lilith must feel seeing her like this, so sick when they should be planning their escape. Ugh, that must suck. Her sister never did good when on her own, always spiralling into strange ideas. And now, with the dangerous potion…
There has to be a way to tell her sister that it wasn’t her fault, even with her voice shredded like this. Eda blindly reaches up and pats the arm attached to the wonderful cool cloth. “Love you,” she rasps in the hope that it conveys everything needed.
But Lilith only scoffs. “You don’t even know who I am.” She sounds patronising, arrogant, and also sad.
The smile she tries to give her sister almost doesn’t come at the realisation that she probably called her other names the last few… however long she’s been here. Eda licks her lips, and even though it hurts, she finds a bit more strength to mumble “Lily”. The resulting gasp and the strong grip on her hand are more than enough reward.