08-04-2008, 04:02 PM
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AW, the Dampwoods. Note: Laruku has contracted a Luperci strain of canine distemper, which is highly contagious via bodily fluids like saliva, mucus, vomit, and blood. So, uh, stay away from that. D;
That something was wrong was more than obvious now. The throbbing headache hadn't been much of an indication -- even though they had subsided in recent weeks, he had lived with them for many long months beforehand and had long since come to ignore them. The first real signs were a runny nose, but he had passed it off as a small cold, even if it was the middle of summer. Then he found his body aching and weak, so much that he had a hard time just standing up, making walking near impossible. It took him two days to travel what should have been a few hours' journey. A fever gripped him hard now and his entire body was flushed warm and he felt like he was walking on needles. Or stumbling, more precisely.
The residence he had taken up was a tiny cottage hidden amongst thick brush in the middle of the forest. Undoubtedly, it had been the residence of some human hermit long ago, and thus befitting for the fallen prince. There was no clearing around the stone house; the trees grew right up to the walls with branches and foilage obscuring many of the windows. He stumbled through the thickets, exhausted and dizzy. Really, he didn't know what it really mattered if he made it home; there was no one there to help, and if there had been, he wouldn't have gone there. It wasn't raining anymore, and he had lived so long out in the open that the shelter of a roof didn't really add much comfort. Still, the thought of a bed was nice, even if it would still probably feel like lying on needles.
Laruku leaned against a tree, breathing hard. It was mid-morning, and the brightness of the sun was killing him. His vision shifted precariously and he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds before the hammering in his temples berated him for it. The door to the cottage was only a few steps away. As he took another step, something sharp seemed to seize his skull and shake it, rattling everything that was inside. A muffled whine escaped his lips and he fell to the ground, muscles twitching as his hands reached for his head. The thought of wanting to die had come to him many times in the past, but this was first time the reason had been physical pain.
AW, the Dampwoods. Note: Laruku has contracted a Luperci strain of canine distemper, which is highly contagious via bodily fluids like saliva, mucus, vomit, and blood. So, uh, stay away from that. D;
That something was wrong was more than obvious now. The throbbing headache hadn't been much of an indication -- even though they had subsided in recent weeks, he had lived with them for many long months beforehand and had long since come to ignore them. The first real signs were a runny nose, but he had passed it off as a small cold, even if it was the middle of summer. Then he found his body aching and weak, so much that he had a hard time just standing up, making walking near impossible. It took him two days to travel what should have been a few hours' journey. A fever gripped him hard now and his entire body was flushed warm and he felt like he was walking on needles. Or stumbling, more precisely.
The residence he had taken up was a tiny cottage hidden amongst thick brush in the middle of the forest. Undoubtedly, it had been the residence of some human hermit long ago, and thus befitting for the fallen prince. There was no clearing around the stone house; the trees grew right up to the walls with branches and foilage obscuring many of the windows. He stumbled through the thickets, exhausted and dizzy. Really, he didn't know what it really mattered if he made it home; there was no one there to help, and if there had been, he wouldn't have gone there. It wasn't raining anymore, and he had lived so long out in the open that the shelter of a roof didn't really add much comfort. Still, the thought of a bed was nice, even if it would still probably feel like lying on needles.
Laruku leaned against a tree, breathing hard. It was mid-morning, and the brightness of the sun was killing him. His vision shifted precariously and he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds before the hammering in his temples berated him for it. The door to the cottage was only a few steps away. As he took another step, something sharp seemed to seize his skull and shake it, rattling everything that was inside. A muffled whine escaped his lips and he fell to the ground, muscles twitching as his hands reached for his head. The thought of wanting to die had come to him many times in the past, but this was first time the reason had been physical pain.