Mari & Rowan - awful
Who: Mari & Rowan
When: A...day ago?
Where: The Hour
Rating & Warnings: G
As much as Rowan liked to complain about things, one thing he never complained about was when he felt sick. Feeling sick often landed him stuck in one room for a ridiculous period of time and caused him to be even more sick (or so he was convinced), which meant that he was only ever sick when he was actually over it.
So, he was not sick. A little woozy, a tiny headache, nothing big. He wasn't purposely avoiding sunlight because it made him feel like something was actively trying to break out of his brain to escape and nearly succeeding through his eyes. He wasn't eating because he wasn't all that hungry and not because he threw up what he had ate earlier. Belief, if it was worth anything at all, would make it true.
Rowan had a project, anyways. He couldn't afford to be sick. There were more offices than he realized that were empty and open to being used for his little project, and checking each one and writing down whether not it'd be any good as a study for Neophytes was taking a much longer time than he thought.
This one was a good option. Rowan leaned heavily against the door frame as he wrote down quick notes on the room. Close to where the Neophytes rooms were. Nice and shadowy so it didn't kill his brain. Whoever had left here before left behind two tables, so there was less need to move things in. There looked to be two rooms connected to it, which he would check the moment he felt he could stand on his own again.
Mari thought about her new arm as she came down the hall, her thumb rubbing over her new, soft palm. It was easy to forget what had happened. She didn't look all that much different. Neither did she feel different. Still, she'd come away with a better idea of how fast and how much she healed - that could be priceless, she reckoned privately.
Her eyes fell on a familiar form further down the hall and for a few moments, she considered turning around. If Rowan noticed the smoothness of her hand and told people...
But, she frowned at him. He didn't look at all well. Moving in closer, she hovered by his shoulder. "Hello."
He could protest all he wanted; Rowan truly did look sick. Pale, feverish, slightly out of it.
"Hello." Rowan leaned his head far back enough to verify that the voice belonged to Mari, but it hurt too much to keep there for more than a few seconds. "You've been keeping yourself busy lately?"
"Yes," she replied. 'Busy' meant 'sit in her room every day, reading' but she didn't care to tell him that. Instead, she folded her arms and stared at him. "You're sick," she said, a few moments later.
"Am not." The response was an automatic one. "I am busy making things better for Neophytes. I can't be sick." That was sound logic. Rowan would just have to remain quiet that he hadn't eaten for a day ... at least. When was the last time he ate?
He wasn't hungry, so it didn't matter.
"No, you look pretty sick to me," Mari examined him, expression dubious. "Go to bed. Don't make me drag you."
"Busy," Rowan repeated. He couldn't be sick. "Besides, you couldn't drag me if you tried to." It was best to avoid this conversation, so he asked, "Did you see the post on the ledgers about what I'm doing?"
"I did," Mari leaned back a little, then poked his shoulder. "I can also see that you're sick, though. Funny that. I don't care about your work, go to bed."
If she was short with him, well, she didn't really care. That was a recurring factor these days. The hurt was fading fast, but so was everything else.
"Rude. I'm doing this largely because of you." Rowan wanted to poke back, but it was difficult enough to balance with his back against the door frame. "I don't want to go to bed. I'm not tired." He was busy.
"Why me?" She asked, distracted as she took his temperature with a hand. "You're going to get worse if you stay out here. I'll go get a guard and ask them to drag you, if you don't stop."
"Because when I thought of what do to with these empty rooms, I kept thinking of you trying to study in your tiny Neophyte room." Rowan shook off her hand with a shake of his head. He was fine. "So it is better to allow you more places to study instead of letting Adepts have another office or five."
"Thanks," she'd been caught off guard by that, and now she wasn't sure what to do. She grabbed his arm instead and began tugging. "You'll thank me later."
"I am fine, Mari," Rowan said, although he allowed himself to be tugged out of the doorway.
To land at her feet a few moments later, trying to blink away the white and black dots that took over his vision. That were, in fact, still there even though he was trying hard to blink them away.
"You are fine," Mari said dryly as she crouched down next to him. "Oh yes, I see that. You're looking very fine to me. If you were any finer, you'd keel over and die."
"It seems to be a possibility," Rowan muttered under his breath. He made an effort to sit upright and managed only because he was close enough to a wall to lean on.
This, this was bringing back some bad memories. It would be worse if he was entirely out of it again ... or if it was night and there was a pair of crazy werewolves wandering the Hour and ready to gut them at any moment. Okay, so it wasn't very much like that night.
"I just need a moment."
"No, you just need a few nights of rest."
Mari prodded his shoulder again, cocking her head to one side and watching him. "You can't sleep here."
"I am not going to sleep here. I don't need sleep." Rowan rested his head against the wall behind him and looked at her hand in annoyance. Why did she keep poking him?
Why did her hand look so wrong? The black and white dots were nearly gone, so he could see clear enough to know that hands had lines. Many, many tiny little lines.
Except hers didn't.
He blinked.
"You're not well," she told him, her voice growing tired. "Get up or I'll write to someone who'll make you get up. Lucia'll tie you to the bed. Do you really want that? Now stand up."
She wouldn't really write to Lucia, but he needed some kind of threat to kick his ass into gear.
"You don't talk to Lucia now," he reminded her, and then looked into the room. If he last attempt to walk was a look into any future attempts, he didn't think he could get back to his office even if he wanted to. Perhaps there was a bed in there ... but Cita alone knew what had happened in that bed last. At least Rowan knew what was going on in his own bed.
But admitting he couldn't walk meant that he was admitting he was sick and Mari was right. He sighed. It was a losing battle anyways.
And now he had something else on his mind ... like a bizarre looking hand.
"Do you have any brilliant ideas on how to walk up the stairs when I need a wall to stay upright?"
"Lean against the wall," she shrugged. "Or I could go get you a stick to lean on. Or you could lean on me, any of those options."
"You are too thin to hold me up." That was definitely true - Mari was still a stick. Or a twig. Whichever was more awkward looking.
Rowan pushed himself up, still leaning against the wall. It felt easier this time than it had before, which was good. "Okay." He was standing. Step one.
"Where is my notebook? I'm going to need that."
"I've got it," she picked it up and slipped it under an arm, raising her eyebrows. "Stop worrying about that. It's less important than you getting some sleep."
Still, she moved close to his side, so that she could support him should he slip.
"Do you know how much time it took me to write down all of that information?" It was bad enough when Rowan wasn't sick. "I can get sleep any time I want."
He began to inch across the wall, which was nice and supportive. The next stairwell was, very luckily, nearby and without any tricky doorways between it.
"How is your studying going?"
"Alright," Mari ventured cautiously, still holding her hands out to catch him if he fell. "I'm learning Latin and Greek for a while. Reading some. Stuff like that. One of the guards said he'd help me with my Latin. Janus Stark."
It helped he was good looking too, but she didn't add that part on. "Seriously, should I get someone to carry you?"
"No. No you should not." Rowan was not a woman and he was not that sick. "Janus Stark?" The name just barely rang a bell. "Is he related to the other Starks in the guard?" They were on the ledgers a lot.
Stairwell. Hurdle number one. Rowan took a tentative step away from the wall, now prepared for the black dots and the potential to fall.
The dots appeared, but not as badly, but he wasn't going to fall.
"That is smart, though. Those languages are useful ones to know."
"Yes, he's Caelus' brother," Mari slowed to accommodate his tentativeness, still hovering close to his side. "Very odd family. At least he's nice. Politer than Cael, too." Just keep talking, she told herself, distract him until he gets up the stairs. "Magister Jones is showing me Greek. Gave me some stuff by Plato to read, too."
Caelus. Sounded familiar. "The one that is shameless. Right?" The words on the ledgers blurred together most days, but Rowan thought he remembered that. Or talked to him a few times. Right, yes, he was the one with the conversation about drawing eggs.
"Magister Jones is nice." He'd make a far better magus than Magus Vance, that was for sure.
"Yes, very. Janus is as bad, though. He was asking me if I'd slept with Caelus almost as soon as I'd said 'hello'. Quite funny, actually. Lieutenant Stark acts like a proper frosty bitch, but her sons are both rude as anything." Just keep chatting normally, she told herself, and carefully check him for any shakiness or signs that he'd overbalance. She kept an eye on his hands, watching for any shivering, made sure to keep an inch or so behind him to rebalance in case he toppled backward. "Hurry up. I don't want you to die in the hallway."
It was a little shaky, but he was managing and slowly getting easier as he walked more. It was questionable if it was better with Mari being ... Mari-like at him or attempting alone.
If he was alone, he'd take a break halfway and then fall asleep.
So, better with Mari even if she was being Mari.
"Sounds like a lovely family. Have you?" Rowan paused, then glanced at her. "Not that I care overmuch, mind you. "
Mari shrugged. "He looks like a girl."
Not a yes or a no.
She placed her hand firmly into the small of his back to propel him forward faster. "Hurry up."
"You do not have to stay if you want. I can make it back to my room on my own, Mari." Rowan didn't need a nursemaid, and he already knew what Mari was like and he would like to leave his room sometime in the next two weeks.
"Is that a good thing or a bad?"
"You won't go back to your room. You'll wander off," Mari scolded as they reached the top of the stairs. "Mind your step."
She shrugged. "He looks like a girl. It's fact, neither good nor bad."
"Will not." Rowan will stay in there long enough for a quick nap that will turn into being passed out for a day. "Well, maybe. You do have that notebook still, so I'll have to wander to find you."
"Not good or bad, but important enough for you to comment on."
"If you're not careful, I'll take out the pages and sew them to your covers," that'd keep him in his room.
"His brother is much more masculine."
"I'd think I'd notice if you were doing that." Rowan stopped at the top of the stairs and rested against the wall. The ease of walking was starting to turn back into just wanting to lie down here and sleep.
Which was dumb because now his office was within walking distance.
"Brother. Wait, which one were we talking about before?"
"No, you wouldn't. Not with how you are now," Mari grabbed his arm and started to tug.
"See? You're awful. Come on and get to bed."
"Hey!" At least Rowan did not fall this time as he was tugged away from his wall again. "I am not. You're awful."
"You're awful and awfully sick, so that's double the awful," thankfully, his room wasn't far. Mari kicked the door open and started shoving him in. "So I win."
"You do not," he protested as he was shoved into his room. Didn't he lock that door? That door should have been locked.
"Okay, I'm here." Rowan sat down on his couch and looked up at Mari, then to his notebook. And...
He tilted his head. "What happened to your hand?" Rowan had forgotten that it looked weird earlier, but the stairs had been distracting enough to put it out of his mind.
But now he was sitting and it was still ... wrong. Not bad, necessarily. Just not right.
That was easy. Before, Mari would have lied through her teeth. Now though, she'd stopped caring. "It regenerated. Looks like hands regenerate differently to other parts."
Mari placed the notebook next to him, then located his covers. These, she draped over him, before standing back. "Get some sleep, alright? I'll bring you some medicine."
Rengerated. Regenerated?
"Why is your hand regenerating?" Hands should not do that, and Rowan was pretty sure being able to heal with her hands did not involve regenerating. This was not a time for sleep when there was something that came from fucking with Belief around.
At least, he thought as he curled up in the blankets, it was not the touch of death he was scared she'd develop.
"Because I made it regenerate."
She tugged the blankets up to his chin, then stood up, folding her arms. "You sleep well, alright? Make sure not to leave until you can stand up without aid of a wall."
That was not an appropriate answer, but Rowan stayed silent and huddled further into his blankets and looked as serious as he could at Mari. The headache that he had been able to convince himself was minor was asserting itself in full strength again.
Perhaps it would lend some weight to his stare and convince her to tell him more of this.
Or else it was making his head fuzzy. One of the two.
When his serious stare was interrupted by a sneeze, he figured it was the fuzzy side that won that battle.
Mari shrugged and stepped back from the couch. "Make sure to get some rest. Goodbye, Rowan."
When: A...day ago?
Where: The Hour
Rating & Warnings: G
As much as Rowan liked to complain about things, one thing he never complained about was when he felt sick. Feeling sick often landed him stuck in one room for a ridiculous period of time and caused him to be even more sick (or so he was convinced), which meant that he was only ever sick when he was actually over it.
So, he was not sick. A little woozy, a tiny headache, nothing big. He wasn't purposely avoiding sunlight because it made him feel like something was actively trying to break out of his brain to escape and nearly succeeding through his eyes. He wasn't eating because he wasn't all that hungry and not because he threw up what he had ate earlier. Belief, if it was worth anything at all, would make it true.
Rowan had a project, anyways. He couldn't afford to be sick. There were more offices than he realized that were empty and open to being used for his little project, and checking each one and writing down whether not it'd be any good as a study for Neophytes was taking a much longer time than he thought.
This one was a good option. Rowan leaned heavily against the door frame as he wrote down quick notes on the room. Close to where the Neophytes rooms were. Nice and shadowy so it didn't kill his brain. Whoever had left here before left behind two tables, so there was less need to move things in. There looked to be two rooms connected to it, which he would check the moment he felt he could stand on his own again.
Mari thought about her new arm as she came down the hall, her thumb rubbing over her new, soft palm. It was easy to forget what had happened. She didn't look all that much different. Neither did she feel different. Still, she'd come away with a better idea of how fast and how much she healed - that could be priceless, she reckoned privately.
Her eyes fell on a familiar form further down the hall and for a few moments, she considered turning around. If Rowan noticed the smoothness of her hand and told people...
But, she frowned at him. He didn't look at all well. Moving in closer, she hovered by his shoulder. "Hello."
He could protest all he wanted; Rowan truly did look sick. Pale, feverish, slightly out of it.
"Hello." Rowan leaned his head far back enough to verify that the voice belonged to Mari, but it hurt too much to keep there for more than a few seconds. "You've been keeping yourself busy lately?"
"Yes," she replied. 'Busy' meant 'sit in her room every day, reading' but she didn't care to tell him that. Instead, she folded her arms and stared at him. "You're sick," she said, a few moments later.
"Am not." The response was an automatic one. "I am busy making things better for Neophytes. I can't be sick." That was sound logic. Rowan would just have to remain quiet that he hadn't eaten for a day ... at least. When was the last time he ate?
He wasn't hungry, so it didn't matter.
"No, you look pretty sick to me," Mari examined him, expression dubious. "Go to bed. Don't make me drag you."
"Busy," Rowan repeated. He couldn't be sick. "Besides, you couldn't drag me if you tried to." It was best to avoid this conversation, so he asked, "Did you see the post on the ledgers about what I'm doing?"
"I did," Mari leaned back a little, then poked his shoulder. "I can also see that you're sick, though. Funny that. I don't care about your work, go to bed."
If she was short with him, well, she didn't really care. That was a recurring factor these days. The hurt was fading fast, but so was everything else.
"Rude. I'm doing this largely because of you." Rowan wanted to poke back, but it was difficult enough to balance with his back against the door frame. "I don't want to go to bed. I'm not tired." He was busy.
"Why me?" She asked, distracted as she took his temperature with a hand. "You're going to get worse if you stay out here. I'll go get a guard and ask them to drag you, if you don't stop."
"Because when I thought of what do to with these empty rooms, I kept thinking of you trying to study in your tiny Neophyte room." Rowan shook off her hand with a shake of his head. He was fine. "So it is better to allow you more places to study instead of letting Adepts have another office or five."
"Thanks," she'd been caught off guard by that, and now she wasn't sure what to do. She grabbed his arm instead and began tugging. "You'll thank me later."
"I am fine, Mari," Rowan said, although he allowed himself to be tugged out of the doorway.
To land at her feet a few moments later, trying to blink away the white and black dots that took over his vision. That were, in fact, still there even though he was trying hard to blink them away.
"You are fine," Mari said dryly as she crouched down next to him. "Oh yes, I see that. You're looking very fine to me. If you were any finer, you'd keel over and die."
"It seems to be a possibility," Rowan muttered under his breath. He made an effort to sit upright and managed only because he was close enough to a wall to lean on.
This, this was bringing back some bad memories. It would be worse if he was entirely out of it again ... or if it was night and there was a pair of crazy werewolves wandering the Hour and ready to gut them at any moment. Okay, so it wasn't very much like that night.
"I just need a moment."
"No, you just need a few nights of rest."
Mari prodded his shoulder again, cocking her head to one side and watching him. "You can't sleep here."
"I am not going to sleep here. I don't need sleep." Rowan rested his head against the wall behind him and looked at her hand in annoyance. Why did she keep poking him?
Why did her hand look so wrong? The black and white dots were nearly gone, so he could see clear enough to know that hands had lines. Many, many tiny little lines.
Except hers didn't.
He blinked.
"You're not well," she told him, her voice growing tired. "Get up or I'll write to someone who'll make you get up. Lucia'll tie you to the bed. Do you really want that? Now stand up."
She wouldn't really write to Lucia, but he needed some kind of threat to kick his ass into gear.
"You don't talk to Lucia now," he reminded her, and then looked into the room. If he last attempt to walk was a look into any future attempts, he didn't think he could get back to his office even if he wanted to. Perhaps there was a bed in there ... but Cita alone knew what had happened in that bed last. At least Rowan knew what was going on in his own bed.
But admitting he couldn't walk meant that he was admitting he was sick and Mari was right. He sighed. It was a losing battle anyways.
And now he had something else on his mind ... like a bizarre looking hand.
"Do you have any brilliant ideas on how to walk up the stairs when I need a wall to stay upright?"
"Lean against the wall," she shrugged. "Or I could go get you a stick to lean on. Or you could lean on me, any of those options."
"You are too thin to hold me up." That was definitely true - Mari was still a stick. Or a twig. Whichever was more awkward looking.
Rowan pushed himself up, still leaning against the wall. It felt easier this time than it had before, which was good. "Okay." He was standing. Step one.
"Where is my notebook? I'm going to need that."
"I've got it," she picked it up and slipped it under an arm, raising her eyebrows. "Stop worrying about that. It's less important than you getting some sleep."
Still, she moved close to his side, so that she could support him should he slip.
"Do you know how much time it took me to write down all of that information?" It was bad enough when Rowan wasn't sick. "I can get sleep any time I want."
He began to inch across the wall, which was nice and supportive. The next stairwell was, very luckily, nearby and without any tricky doorways between it.
"How is your studying going?"
"Alright," Mari ventured cautiously, still holding her hands out to catch him if he fell. "I'm learning Latin and Greek for a while. Reading some. Stuff like that. One of the guards said he'd help me with my Latin. Janus Stark."
It helped he was good looking too, but she didn't add that part on. "Seriously, should I get someone to carry you?"
"No. No you should not." Rowan was not a woman and he was not that sick. "Janus Stark?" The name just barely rang a bell. "Is he related to the other Starks in the guard?" They were on the ledgers a lot.
Stairwell. Hurdle number one. Rowan took a tentative step away from the wall, now prepared for the black dots and the potential to fall.
The dots appeared, but not as badly, but he wasn't going to fall.
"That is smart, though. Those languages are useful ones to know."
"Yes, he's Caelus' brother," Mari slowed to accommodate his tentativeness, still hovering close to his side. "Very odd family. At least he's nice. Politer than Cael, too." Just keep talking, she told herself, distract him until he gets up the stairs. "Magister Jones is showing me Greek. Gave me some stuff by Plato to read, too."
Caelus. Sounded familiar. "The one that is shameless. Right?" The words on the ledgers blurred together most days, but Rowan thought he remembered that. Or talked to him a few times. Right, yes, he was the one with the conversation about drawing eggs.
"Magister Jones is nice." He'd make a far better magus than Magus Vance, that was for sure.
"Yes, very. Janus is as bad, though. He was asking me if I'd slept with Caelus almost as soon as I'd said 'hello'. Quite funny, actually. Lieutenant Stark acts like a proper frosty bitch, but her sons are both rude as anything." Just keep chatting normally, she told herself, and carefully check him for any shakiness or signs that he'd overbalance. She kept an eye on his hands, watching for any shivering, made sure to keep an inch or so behind him to rebalance in case he toppled backward. "Hurry up. I don't want you to die in the hallway."
It was a little shaky, but he was managing and slowly getting easier as he walked more. It was questionable if it was better with Mari being ... Mari-like at him or attempting alone.
If he was alone, he'd take a break halfway and then fall asleep.
So, better with Mari even if she was being Mari.
"Sounds like a lovely family. Have you?" Rowan paused, then glanced at her. "Not that I care overmuch, mind you. "
Mari shrugged. "He looks like a girl."
Not a yes or a no.
She placed her hand firmly into the small of his back to propel him forward faster. "Hurry up."
"You do not have to stay if you want. I can make it back to my room on my own, Mari." Rowan didn't need a nursemaid, and he already knew what Mari was like and he would like to leave his room sometime in the next two weeks.
"Is that a good thing or a bad?"
"You won't go back to your room. You'll wander off," Mari scolded as they reached the top of the stairs. "Mind your step."
She shrugged. "He looks like a girl. It's fact, neither good nor bad."
"Will not." Rowan will stay in there long enough for a quick nap that will turn into being passed out for a day. "Well, maybe. You do have that notebook still, so I'll have to wander to find you."
"Not good or bad, but important enough for you to comment on."
"If you're not careful, I'll take out the pages and sew them to your covers," that'd keep him in his room.
"His brother is much more masculine."
"I'd think I'd notice if you were doing that." Rowan stopped at the top of the stairs and rested against the wall. The ease of walking was starting to turn back into just wanting to lie down here and sleep.
Which was dumb because now his office was within walking distance.
"Brother. Wait, which one were we talking about before?"
"No, you wouldn't. Not with how you are now," Mari grabbed his arm and started to tug.
"See? You're awful. Come on and get to bed."
"Hey!" At least Rowan did not fall this time as he was tugged away from his wall again. "I am not. You're awful."
"You're awful and awfully sick, so that's double the awful," thankfully, his room wasn't far. Mari kicked the door open and started shoving him in. "So I win."
"You do not," he protested as he was shoved into his room. Didn't he lock that door? That door should have been locked.
"Okay, I'm here." Rowan sat down on his couch and looked up at Mari, then to his notebook. And...
He tilted his head. "What happened to your hand?" Rowan had forgotten that it looked weird earlier, but the stairs had been distracting enough to put it out of his mind.
But now he was sitting and it was still ... wrong. Not bad, necessarily. Just not right.
That was easy. Before, Mari would have lied through her teeth. Now though, she'd stopped caring. "It regenerated. Looks like hands regenerate differently to other parts."
Mari placed the notebook next to him, then located his covers. These, she draped over him, before standing back. "Get some sleep, alright? I'll bring you some medicine."
Rengerated. Regenerated?
"Why is your hand regenerating?" Hands should not do that, and Rowan was pretty sure being able to heal with her hands did not involve regenerating. This was not a time for sleep when there was something that came from fucking with Belief around.
At least, he thought as he curled up in the blankets, it was not the touch of death he was scared she'd develop.
"Because I made it regenerate."
She tugged the blankets up to his chin, then stood up, folding her arms. "You sleep well, alright? Make sure not to leave until you can stand up without aid of a wall."
That was not an appropriate answer, but Rowan stayed silent and huddled further into his blankets and looked as serious as he could at Mari. The headache that he had been able to convince himself was minor was asserting itself in full strength again.
Perhaps it would lend some weight to his stare and convince her to tell him more of this.
Or else it was making his head fuzzy. One of the two.
When his serious stare was interrupted by a sneeze, he figured it was the fuzzy side that won that battle.
Mari shrugged and stepped back from the couch. "Make sure to get some rest. Goodbye, Rowan."