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The old door handle creaked with a twist of Gialistri’s wrist, opening slowly as she sought out her bed.
The room was already dim, only a single lamp in the corner providing visibility. It did nothing to help the illness-born ache behind her eyes, but turning it back on would only make it worse.
She slithered towards the bed and nearly fell onto the mattress. It was even less comfortable today with her abnormally high heat. Her hand reached for the thin throw blanket, a temporary replacement for the sake of trying not to die of heat stroke in her sleep. She scoffed weakly as she attempted to pull it out from under her, only winning the one person tug-o-war when she lifted her tail into the air. The small action felt like lifting a whole house thanks to her ailment.
Gialistri never fell asleep quick. No matter how hard she tried, unless she was absolutely exhausted, it always took a good while. She could try her hardest to push down all of her thoughts to quiet her mind, but it got quite tiring. So of course, it seemed to become harder tenfold when a fever was involved. The blanket was still too hot, yet she couldn’t be bothered to move her tail. If she just stayed still long enough, surely she’d fall asleep faster.
Emily would have been worrying her head off if she were here.
No. Gialistri really couldn’t afford to think of her right now. Couldn’t afford to think about the softness of her voice was she was concerned, the glimmer of worry in her eyes, the way she’d tilt her head-
Get yourself together, Gialistri. Just sleep.
She repeated that once.
Just sleep.
And then twice.
Just sleep. Just sleep.
Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep. Just sleep..
Her mantra still didn’t actually help, but she’d convinced herself it did.
Gialistri blinked. Or at least, she might have. The memory of the action faded right after. Dark wood floors, plenty of bookshelves, of course stacked with…Were those books? She couldn’t make the shapes out. This was.. uhhh.. Someone’s house?
Wait, no. Too many bookshelves for that.
A library? Yes, yes. That’s the right track.
Oh!
Her library. That’s where she was. It felt like she hadn’t been here in ages! She would’ve sighed if her mind could even think of doing that right now. She walked forward, no particular direction in mind. As she weaved through the various shelves, she tried to recall what she was thinking of doing before she left the house. What was she doing again? In fact, where did she even go?? Her memory eluded her. Still, it didn’t bother her, too hazy to care.
After another few seconds—or minutes—of wandering aimlessly, Gialistri reached the front door. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to walk outside instead! Maybe she’d run into a friend!
She passed the door, somehow without opening it, stepping a foot onto the soft grass. She must’ve stayed inside for a while, because the day was bordering its end. No problem, there was always tomorrow. She studied her surroundings, taking in the distantly familiar buildings. She couldn’t tell just what they were for, but she knew she’d seen them all before, and maybe visited a few. Her legs decided for her, and she set out for a smaller building a block or two away. It certainly felt more like just a few inches, the walk absurdly short.
Before long, Gialistri was already pushing the door open. It looked somewhat like a small, rundown convenience store. Perhaps taking a look around would kill her boredom! She still didn’t care to pay actual attention to what was stocked, just pretending to genuinely browse the wares.
In the absence of her attention, she walked right into someone, sending both the stranger and her falling to the floor. She bit back an expletive, forcing herself up on weak legs.
The other person didn’t waste any time in taking hold of the hand that Gialistri outstretched, pulling herself up to make eye contact.
Gialistri’s heart jumped. Oh dear, that wasn’t a stranger. That was her Emily! How silly of her.
That didn’t make sense. Emily was sick, wasn’t she? She was supposed to be at home. The doctor told them both when they visited.
She tried to inquire about Emily’s health, but nothing audible came out. How odd. When speaking proved impossible, she wordlessly took her hand in her own, gesturing toward the direction of the doctor.
Gialistri’s thoughts went wayward. All of a sudden she wanted to hold Emily’s hand forever.
No time for such thoughts, you fool!
She snapped out of it, grabbing her other hand and rushing forth. Doctor, don’t forget again, Gialistri. Emily’s face shifted, a confused look on her face as she tried to match the librarian’s pace.
The two would’ve burst through the door had Gialistri not slowed down. She released Emily’s hand to let her sit, and turned to consult the check-in desk. For the entire time, she was unsure if the conversation was real or just in her head. She couldn’t tell if the receptionist’s mouth was moving or not, or if she was really hearing them.
Still, she had bigger concerns.
Once she’d finished consulting the receptionist, Gialistri took a seat right next to Emily. Now that she had the time to look harder, she really did look sick. Emily’s skin was pale, and her usually perfect face had a slight sheen of sweat to it. How had she not noticed before today? There was no way she just entirely missed the increasing degree of visible ailment.
Then again, that would be far from the first time Gialistri had missed concerning signs.
Or maybe she had noticed the signs and just ignored them to the point she’d entirely forgotten about them. She wouldn’t be surprised if that was it.
What kind of ‘friend’ pretends they’re oblivious to other’s misfortune?
Her brooding was interrupted when a door opened, leading into deeper halls, and someone called out ‘Emily Baker?’.
Gialistri wasn’t sure how she’d be able to spend the time between the results. She rose up from her chair, making hurried strides for the exit. She near immediately regretted it when the cold air hit her face, but she couldn’t stand to sit still for the next hour-and-a-half or so.
Stopping once she reached the back of the building, she leaned against the wall and clasped her hands tightly together. Her fingers were just as restless as her mind, rhythmically tapping the tips of them against her knuckles or digging her nails in hard enough to shortly tint the skin red.
Reign in your thoughts, Gialistri. You always exaggerate the outcome.
It’s probably just a common illness. She’ll be fine.
She has to-
The heaviest sigh of relief left Gialistri as the news came from the woman before her. She was healthy.
That didn’t feel correct. No, that wasn’t how it’d gone.
‘Thank the █ █ █ █ █ █! Oh, Emily, I was about at my wits end! I’m overjoyed that you’re ok!” She cried out, eagerly embracing the other.
“I wasn’t faring much better, I fear!” Emily laughed softly. The sound lived on in Gialistri’s head like a lullaby. She gladly half-returned the librarian’s hug, patting her back below her shoulder blades. The hug dragged on for a fair moment before Gialistri finally let go.
Something was suddenly clear to Gialistri.
They were alone.
No one else near them, no one to over hear them, no one to intercept.
Chance was rarely on her side, so why not make the most of it when it finally offers itself?
Don’t back out, Gialistri. You have to get this out.
“Uh- Emily. Now that we both know you’re well in health, I have an important inquiry.”
Gialistri forced the words out before the opportunity could fly by. There. Now that she’d gotten the first sentence out, she couldn’t retract it.
Emily’s attention was piqued. Something in her stomach dropped near imperceptibly.
“Yes?” She encouraged, offering a smile and clasping her hands together.
Gialistri fumbled for the right words, picking out the exact phrasing she wanted to use for this. “I’m-“She paused as the sound of a cough registered.
Instead of Emily apologizing and giving her space to continue as per usual, the coughing didn’t stop.
“Are you alright? Do you need water?” She was already scrapping her confession, sudden worry pushing the open door closed.
Emily raised a hand in some sorry gesture, but there wasn’t much energy put into it. Before they knew it, she was doubled over with a hand to her chest and coughing up a storm.
“Oh dear-“ Gialistri’s heart rate picked up in panic. She couldn’t just sit here and act helpless, yet she hadn’t the smallest idea of what to say. “Sit down, please.”
Like sitting down would fix.. whatever this was.
Emily passed out, falling limply forward.
Gialistri woke up faster than she ever had before, trying to free herself from the disheveled sheets without thinking. She was far too hot, her nose was still stuffy as ever, and there may have been a wet patch on her pillow. You didn’t even need to be fully conscious to feel panic pricking at your insides, she’d just learnt.
She should’ve snapped into lucidity the moment she saw those shelves. How stupid of her.
Gialistri turned onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. The frightful feeling was fleeing, thank █ █ █. The hazy recollection of that dream certainly wasn’t.
To be fair, she should’ve expected a dream like that. Even without the added fever bonus, her dreams were less-than-gleeful lately. For starters there was the dream about suicide, and then the second one about suicide, and then the one in her childhood house. Even if she wouldn’t say they made her sleep much worse, she could certainly go without them. Just one morning without waking up sweaty, startled, or still tired would be nice.
Had Emily had that exact thought when her time was drawing near?
The possibility of it soured the ex-librarian’s mood even more.
There was this funny thing with her where she couldn’t bear thinking about Emily, but at the same time, if she refused to think about her, that’d be utterly disrespectful. The constant conflicting thoughts made her want to hit her head against a wall to rattle them out.
Then again, was there even an Emily to “disrespect” anymore? She was unsure if she hoped not or if she hoped there was.
Turning onto her side again, Gialistri placed her pillow over her eyes to block out the already minimal light and save her from worsening the forming ache behind her eyes.
It was, sadly, a good question.
She’d studied whatever scraps of angel knowledge she could scavenge before she became a prime soul, figured there was a possibility those ‘virtue’ creatures were previously people. And, well, that machine had been taking any and everything down like dominoes. If Emily even managed to physically become an “angel”, it wouldn’t matter in the end either way.
Didn’t that mean she was free of all possible suffering now, though?
Gialistri sighed. The thought was slightly helpful. Until it just spiraled down into wondering what dying a third and final time would mean, of course. It was odd to think about—if it happened, she wouldn’t be there to experience whatever comes after literal Hell, but her mind refused to accept that being the very end. She’d figured she’d just stop existing the last two times she died, and look where that ended up.
She could probably go ahead and see if there was some secret third hell if she wanted to, but her mood had been on the up lately, so she’d rather not.
Something was starting to dawn on her. She certainly wouldn’t be bothered by that thought like two months ago (well, probably two months ago. She just decided to disregard any pre-existing Hell calendar and pretend it was the first of the month when she started picking up the remainders of the layer when she’d been freed).
And thank █ █ █ that ‘what comes next’ thought hadn’t hit her eight months ago, because chances were she’d be more than happy to find out.
Just thinking about eight months ago made her internally cringe. She still bitterly remembered the things she’d hysterically cried when she had that childish breakdown. Namely that she wouldn’t be here in the next.. maybe nine or ten months.
She’d been wrong, though. Eight had passed, bordering on nine, and here she was. Feverish, tired, and currently moping, but still here.
Who cares if she’d gotten close to being right, she was wrong in the end.
Gialistri’s train of thought went from ‘derailed’ to ‘exploded’ when she noticed the huge spider on the floor. She had to restrain herself from screeching like a banshee. She never conquered her horrible fear of insects and the like.
This one was different, however. There was a small container of.. soup on its back. Oh, this spider must be one of those under the leadership of one of her ‘fellow’ monarchs. She’d been offered a delivery of soup a few days ago.
She cautiously plucked the container from it, watching as the arachnid skittered off.
For now, Emily wasn’t lodged in her thoughts, as she eagerly consumed her little delivery. And for now was good enough.