The rose I sickened with a scarlet fever [Open]

[youwonscience]

WHO: Cosima and ?
WHAT: A catchall open post for phases two and three of the flu modplot
WHEN: Wintermarch 25 to Guardian 6ish
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Discussion of blood in a medical context in Anders' thread; otherwise general "affected by blood plague" heads-up unless otherwise noted.

Comments

[youwonscience]

She tries to shift, if Herian lets her, enough so she can look at her properly. "I love you too. We're gonna make it through this, okay?" Whether or not she feels properly confident... it seems like the promise to make, in the face of that declaration. Despite everything, Cosima glows with it, a little. She'd thought so, but hearing it said is something else.

[dashing]

Adjusting to accomodate the movement, Herian feels—

more exposed to what she's just managed to say, with Cosima looking at her. It's not bad, far from it, but it is the first time she's made herself say it aloud, lain it out for acknowledgement and possibly disaster. (She is glad this hasn't been a disaster.)

"We shall." And a bit of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, which she does nothing to correct. The smile isn't the half of it, really, when she feels all light. Hearing it is something else. Saying it is something else. She bites her lip, and leans forward to kiss her again.

"I did promise you a massage," she murmurs, and its kind of a reminder for both of them, though she's happy to keep kissing Cosima a few moments more.

[youwonscience]

"You did," Cosima says, softening a bit and laying down again after one more kiss. "Can you do that ice thing with your fingers again? That was great, actually."

Under other circumstances, Cosima might be inclined to tease and fondly press at the revelation. But she's tired, and she's worried, and she knows Herian is worried. Maybe a few quiet moments together are best, here and now.

[dashing]

With a quiet chuckle, Herian leans her forward on her elbow, holding her hand where Cosima can see it laying down. For a moment, heat glows under her fingertips, before a very light buzz of lightning flares across them, and then a very light frost crawls over them.

"I can do many things," she advises, momentarily teasing, heavily bordering on the lands of flirtatious, before she leans back and kisses Cosima's shoulder. "But I will stick to the 'ice thing'."

She feels simultaneously the odd adrenaline rush that comes with important words being spoken, with wondrous news being delivered back to her, the entirely unknightly flurry of butterflies, all mixed in with the worry and trepidation that this fever has brought on. They are not out of the woods - they are not safe, not yet, but in this moment she can try to help and make Cosima more comfortable, and that will do. Ice magic rises in her skin, and she slowly works her hands own Cosima's back.