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The Slate Race (Feat. @Photokinetic and @Magemance
@ScarletWarrior
*Wanda could sense that Donovan was starting to feel unwell even before he said anything to her or showed external symptoms. She did little things at first, adding a tiny bit of extra lemon to his tea in the evenings, letting him take longer naps, making sure his water glass was always full.*
*She knew it wasn't enough to strike down his cold entirely but it would at least make the worst of it much more bearable.*
*When it did start to show, she was much more adamant about making sure he got as much rest as possible.*
*Today she was up before him, silently slipping out of his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. She pulled the blankets up around him and padded out, softly closing the door behind her. She descended the stairs towards the kitchen, pulling out some leftover chicken from last night.*
*She got to work making a meal for him, making sure that every measurement was precise and had an extra dash of her love.*
*Everything tasted better when it was made with love.*
*Once that and a cup of tea were made, she placed it on a tray and carried it upstairs. She flicked her fingers, causing the door the open on its own. She set the tray down on his bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking him gently.*
"Good morning, my love. I brought you something."
*She kissed his forehead again before grabbing the tray. She waited until he was awake before setting it on his lap.*
"My mother's old recipe. There's a lot more where this came from. After having this a few times, it'll work its magic."
---
@Photokinetic
Donovan’s skin was becoming hard and brittle. Gray as concrete as it had been since he and Wanda spent three days subduing King Namor over the the Black Sea.
In the time they spent convincing the Atlantean King--through gaining his respect from physical violence--not to invade New York, Donovan came into contact with mosses and fungi that left him feeling sickly taking the barge back to shore.
Two nights later, his legs were beginning to stiffen. His back and shoulders cracked with loud announcement whenever he moved longer than five minutes. The other night getting ready before bed, skin cracked like paint chips off his arm into the sink.
The light of dawn put orange in his eyes past the slightly parted red curtains. Donovan looked mummified in the bedsheets. Sweated profusely along his forehead and cold, grey, discolored skin.
“…Wanda. Angel.”
"Good morning, my love. I brought you something."
His cough was weak. Like he had a punctured lung. “Dear, you don’t—“ Kaff. “—You don’t have to do anything special for m—“ Kaff, kaff, kaff, kaff.
Felt her arms secure themselves around his body. The kiss to his forehead. Returned her kiss and sat up. “Christ’s wounds. I’m becoming something that should have bolts in its neck.”
Speaking while his gaze lingered on the full glass of water from the tray. Reaching for it with trembling fingers. That, he indicated. Need /that/.
What ultimately stirred him, though, was the scent of the soup she had on the tray for him. Seasoned, cut-up chicken. Cilantro. Tomatoes and broccoli. It made his mouth water.
“I think I may be very well sick a little longer if you intend to cook for me like this.” His gaze moving from Wanda to the soup. “Looks delightful.”
"My mother's old recipe. There's a lot more where this came from. After having this a few times, it'll work its magic."
Probably literally so, given its chef.
Donovan picked up the spoon and smiled for her.
“I’m going to drink the bowlful down,” he sweated. “And enjoy every drop.”
The spoon out of his grip, crashing into the bowl.
He collapsed on the pillow, unconscious. Steady heartbeat, but weaker than the day before.
---
@ScarletWarrior
*With her now being able to see him more clearly in the sun, she saw the changes that had happened to him in the night. It scared her. No. It /terrified/ her. She didn't know what was going on and she didn't enjoy it one bit.*
*She didn't show him her fear, though, putting on a nurturing mask as she woke him. Her voice was gentle, much like how she'd wake up the kids every morning.*
*A frown touched her lips as he started to cough, hearing how it sounded, seeing the way his body shook. She rubbed his back, lips pressing to his forehead.*
*She managed a weak smile when he made reference to Frankenstein and saw the way he looked at the water. She grabbed it, handing it to him to take a sip from it before placing the tray onto his lap.*
*She smiled a genuine smile when his eyes gleamed when he saw the soup.* "Eat as much as you want."
*She rose to her feet.* "I'll be right back. I'm going to get a washcloth, see if I can do something about your fever."
*She patted his arm and started towards the door when she heard the spoon crash into the bowl. She spun around and shot out her hands, red tendrils keeping everything from spilling as she saw him knocked out.*
"Donovan!" *She rushed to his side, first checking for his pulse with shaking fingers. Panic was flooding through her veins when she first couldn't find it, but that was due to her own nerves.*
*When she found it, she let out a soft sigh of relief, knowing that they still had time. She grabbed her comm from her bedside table and put it in her ear as she tried to make him as comfortable as possible, readjusting the pillows and blankets around him.*
"Rose, come in."
*She waited for a response, fingers still trembling from the initial shock as she put everything on the tray, moving it out of the way.*
"I need your help. It's Donovan. It can't wait."
*Wanda could sense that Donovan was starting to feel unwell even before he said anything to her or showed external symptoms. She did little things at first, adding a tiny bit of extra lemon to his tea in the evenings, letting him take longer naps, making sure his water glass was always full.*
*She knew it wasn't enough to strike down his cold entirely but it would at least make the worst of it much more bearable.*
*When it did start to show, she was much more adamant about making sure he got as much rest as possible.*
*Today she was up before him, silently slipping out of his arms and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. She pulled the blankets up around him and padded out, softly closing the door behind her. She descended the stairs towards the kitchen, pulling out some leftover chicken from last night.*
*She got to work making a meal for him, making sure that every measurement was precise and had an extra dash of her love.*
*Everything tasted better when it was made with love.*
*Once that and a cup of tea were made, she placed it on a tray and carried it upstairs. She flicked her fingers, causing the door the open on its own. She set the tray down on his bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed, shaking him gently.*
"Good morning, my love. I brought you something."
*She kissed his forehead again before grabbing the tray. She waited until he was awake before setting it on his lap.*
"My mother's old recipe. There's a lot more where this came from. After having this a few times, it'll work its magic."
---
@Photokinetic
Donovan’s skin was becoming hard and brittle. Gray as concrete as it had been since he and Wanda spent three days subduing King Namor over the the Black Sea.
In the time they spent convincing the Atlantean King--through gaining his respect from physical violence--not to invade New York, Donovan came into contact with mosses and fungi that left him feeling sickly taking the barge back to shore.
Two nights later, his legs were beginning to stiffen. His back and shoulders cracked with loud announcement whenever he moved longer than five minutes. The other night getting ready before bed, skin cracked like paint chips off his arm into the sink.
The light of dawn put orange in his eyes past the slightly parted red curtains. Donovan looked mummified in the bedsheets. Sweated profusely along his forehead and cold, grey, discolored skin.
“…Wanda. Angel.”
"Good morning, my love. I brought you something."
His cough was weak. Like he had a punctured lung. “Dear, you don’t—“ Kaff. “—You don’t have to do anything special for m—“ Kaff, kaff, kaff, kaff.
Felt her arms secure themselves around his body. The kiss to his forehead. Returned her kiss and sat up. “Christ’s wounds. I’m becoming something that should have bolts in its neck.”
Speaking while his gaze lingered on the full glass of water from the tray. Reaching for it with trembling fingers. That, he indicated. Need /that/.
What ultimately stirred him, though, was the scent of the soup she had on the tray for him. Seasoned, cut-up chicken. Cilantro. Tomatoes and broccoli. It made his mouth water.
“I think I may be very well sick a little longer if you intend to cook for me like this.” His gaze moving from Wanda to the soup. “Looks delightful.”
"My mother's old recipe. There's a lot more where this came from. After having this a few times, it'll work its magic."
Probably literally so, given its chef.
Donovan picked up the spoon and smiled for her.
“I’m going to drink the bowlful down,” he sweated. “And enjoy every drop.”
The spoon out of his grip, crashing into the bowl.
He collapsed on the pillow, unconscious. Steady heartbeat, but weaker than the day before.
---
@ScarletWarrior
*With her now being able to see him more clearly in the sun, she saw the changes that had happened to him in the night. It scared her. No. It /terrified/ her. She didn't know what was going on and she didn't enjoy it one bit.*
*She didn't show him her fear, though, putting on a nurturing mask as she woke him. Her voice was gentle, much like how she'd wake up the kids every morning.*
*A frown touched her lips as he started to cough, hearing how it sounded, seeing the way his body shook. She rubbed his back, lips pressing to his forehead.*
*She managed a weak smile when he made reference to Frankenstein and saw the way he looked at the water. She grabbed it, handing it to him to take a sip from it before placing the tray onto his lap.*
*She smiled a genuine smile when his eyes gleamed when he saw the soup.* "Eat as much as you want."
*She rose to her feet.* "I'll be right back. I'm going to get a washcloth, see if I can do something about your fever."
*She patted his arm and started towards the door when she heard the spoon crash into the bowl. She spun around and shot out her hands, red tendrils keeping everything from spilling as she saw him knocked out.*
"Donovan!" *She rushed to his side, first checking for his pulse with shaking fingers. Panic was flooding through her veins when she first couldn't find it, but that was due to her own nerves.*
*When she found it, she let out a soft sigh of relief, knowing that they still had time. She grabbed her comm from her bedside table and put it in her ear as she tried to make him as comfortable as possible, readjusting the pillows and blankets around him.*
"Rose, come in."
*She waited for a response, fingers still trembling from the initial shock as she put everything on the tray, moving it out of the way.*
"I need your help. It's Donovan. It can't wait."
0 | Feb 20th 2019 20:53