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A road stretched far before her, no ending in sight. Hedges covered the sky above, and Betty made her way down to her destination. Which destination was it? She couldn’t remember, only that she had to go there as soon as possible. Viric stretched from the edges of her vision and turned to a cold, dark teal in the distance that stretched on and on. There was no end in sight, no matter how far Betty walked.
And even then, a cold, wet feeling crawled down her back. Betty couldn’t escape it no matter how hard she focused on the walking, or the pounding behind her eyes. It trickled down like thick, burning water, sullying the dirt underneath. Betty felt herself struggling to breathe the longer she walked, the more she looked at the drops percolating on the ground. Her journey wasn’t over, though. She will walk this path no matter how long it took her; if she could still go on despite the claws digging between her ribs into her lungs—
Betty crawled up. She wheezed in a breath. Her throat closed up as she let out a shallow breath. Gobs of sweat clung to her arms, legs, back. Her jaw tightened as something rose—far too quick to be heartburn—up her throat--
Oh God. Not here. Not here.
Sheets shuffled next to her, a flicker of light in her peripheral, and someone coming in her space—
“Are you alright?” a gentle, firm voice spoke. Betty wasn’t sure. She swallowed hard, unable to shake the gag hiding in her throat. Her stomach was a maelstrom of sensations, cramping and sore and sour and coiled as reality seeped in like warmth would thaw snow. There Betty lay, breath stuck in her lungs. She wasn’t sure if her next would bring the non-existent food in her stomach up, or if her head was playing tricks on her.
Rotten Snuffer blood was coursing in her veins even now, way beyond her washing. She saw Griz sit down on her side, and place a candle on the nightstand. Her chestnut eyes glittered in the candlelight, and if Betty didn’t feel a rush of cold over her bare legs she would call them beautiful. “Are you gonna be sick?” came the question.
Despite the tight clamp of her jaw, a whimper came from her throat. Tears welled in her eyes, and Betty felt her entire body shake harder than she had ever felt before. It wasn’t her typical feverish shakes and chills; this was something worse. Griz was there, right there , and she looked positively cozy and inviting and would it hurt if Betty crawled onto her lap. Alas, with the violent shivers it would be impossible. All she could do is cry in misery.
“Griz,” Betty hiccuped, “Oh, Griz…”
Cold tears flowed down her cheek and her vision blurred with more waiting to pour. She heard Griz coo and move closer before she was brought into a hug. Betty leaned into the woman and began sobbing into her shoulder. Her body was a burning battlefield, hot as the Brass Embassy and as cold as the plains in the Hurlers, and it shook with whatever other assault this poison brought onto it.
Griz gently raked her nails down her back and made a shushing sound. Betty hiccuped again as she snuggled into the touch, eager to stay there until the fever eased its grip on her. Griz was too kind, too caring for someone who didn’t wash her eyes out properly before leaving. She should have known rubbing the towel with the blood was a horrible idea, and was now paying for it.
“I feel horrible,” she sobbed into Griz’s shoulder. “I feel so, horrible—”
“I know, Betty, I know,” Griz softly spoke to her. “I don’t know what I can do to help you.”
Betty shakily pulled away, almost collapsing onto the bed below if it weren’t for the arms holding her. There was one person that could help, help even more than a soothing touch against her weak body; although Betty doubted she would be eager to help someone who did it to herself. Betty squinted against the ache behind her eyes at Griz, “Sophia.”
There is a pause. Griz ought to be thinking that Betty had gone fully insane and the Merry Gentleman will bring her to the hotel now--
“Sophia?” came the answer, unsure but Betty gleaned that there was some familiarity. She nodded with a pathetic little sniffle.
“That can be arranged,” Griz remarked, “I will get to it in the morning, now rest.”
And leave Betty to die, just like that? The thought of it caused more tears and more sobs from Betty. “Now—” she whined, bowing her head— “Do it now!”
“I am sorry—truly am—but I don’t think she would be awake at this hour,” Griz said.
That was all she needed to know now. Sophia likely had other business to attend to other than her stupidity and panic. Betty hiccuped, then coughed, as she found her spot on Griz’s shoulder again. This could be her very end, with her sobbing on her beloved’s shoulder and seeking comfort like a child would from her nanny. A sight to behold to some, but not in the comfort of a home, next to Griz who took it patiently.
“Look,” began Griz, “I don’t know why you are so very ill now, and I wish you weren’t as much as you do. Promise me this, will you?”
Betty hummed and let her eyes flutter close. She couldn’t promise much except only the possibility of staying alive as her body stubbornly kept going. Maybe she could hold on until Griz finds a way to make her feel better. Maybe.
“Will you let me try to lower the fever? And sleep afterwards?”
“’ll try,” Betty replied, swallowing salty spit. Griz helped her lay down and moved away. Goosebumps immediately erupted all over her body, and she tried to crawl into the covers that still held Griz’s scent: somehow still smelling faintly of ink.
Her ears pricked up when she heard water sloshing in a bowl. The thought nearly made her recoil, but she promised she will let Griz help her with her fever. Betty listened to the wringing of a sponge above it and inhaled deeply before it even touched her skin.
Even with her efforts to lay still, an unhappy sound still came out of her when the sponge touched her. “I know,” Griz said softly, “You’re being very good, however. Very good.”
Griz lifted her nightdress and padded at her back with the sponge. Betty bit her lip hard as she endured. The praise made her already hot face burn hotter; Griz was only doing it because she was ill and was doing her best to make her feel better, but she wished she heard it some other time. A time where she wasn’t a miserable, feverish heap
“How was that?” Griz asked her as she moved up to her face. Betty shivered audibly as the sponge passed her cheeks, but relaxed into the pillows as she felt the water cooling on her face. When Griz was finished, she heard her remark, “I’ll take that as a positive.”
“Thank you,” Betty forced a whisper out as sleep hung at the back of her mind. A hand caressed her face as her worries became dwarfed by exhaustion; shaking, hot exhaustion that Betty welcomed. Before sleep could fully overtake her, however, she felt a soft kiss on her forehead.