[MINGLE] Worried/Sick 1: Symptoms Manifest & Reaction

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: Anywhere; multiple locations
WHEN: Apx. 13-18 November
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE
WARNINGS: Serious illness and reactions to such

IMPORTANT NOTES: This is the first of two mingles. Please see the timing and general event details here.

Illness Presents and Putting Heads Together will have their own top-levels in this post, but you may make separate top-levels for whatever you like! Anything is welcome, as long as it tangentially relates to the Worried/Sick plot.

Please keep in mind the established plot details, but creative license is welcome and encouraged as long as it doesn't step on toes.

Comments

[womanofvalue]

That's not the answer that Peggy wants to hear because 'working on one' is not 'have one', which means that this blasted suffering isn't going to come to an end anytime soon and she wants to lash out purely for that reason alone. Making a face, she wishes that she didn't feel so hopeless about the chances of recovery.

Maybe that's just the fever settling in.

"Will you do me a favour?" Peggy asks, sweating and feeling her head throb with the ache, along with the fever. "Make sure that you're there, that you agree with whatever they find. I trust you." More than she trusts just about anyone, here.

[ex_assertiveness90]

"Yeah, of course," Stella says almost immediately, meaning it. Realistically, though, she is not sure how much of the doctors' findings she'll understand. She doesn't have any medical training outside of a certification in first aid, and some of the conversations she's heard bandied about regarding the cure have been too high-level for her comprehension, more so than she would actually admit to.

Still, Stella's been trained to rely on her intuition; if her own personal standard of logic tells her something doesn't make sense, it's probably because there's something wrong with whatever she's being told. She will simply have to go by that and hope for the best, because no matter what happens, she has every intention of seeing this through.

Taking one of Peggy's hands in her free one, just to give her something to hold on to, she runs the cool cloth over her forehead again, wiping off the sweat. "I was ill like this, once or twice, when I was small," she says after a few moments of quiet. "I remember my father used to sing to me. Children's lullabies, mostly, though once I was ill in December and it was Christmas carols then."

It's a rare moment of vulnerability. Stella does not spend much time talking about her personal life, her past, and especially not her father — which just speaks to how much she trusts Peggy, in turn.

[womanofvalue]

Peggy is so appreciative of the warm, steady touch. She feels awful, honestly, and every cough feels like it hollows her out and leaves nothing left, so to have Stella here supporting her means all the world. Her eyes are glassy with a sheen and she stares at Stella with a great degree of fondness.

"Are we close to the holidays, then?" she asks, thinking about how it had been Michael to offer her support and kindness when she had been little and ill. "And are you going to sing to me?"

[ex_assertiveness90]

It's mid-November if Stella's wristband is right — about the time of year they'd start playing Christmas music on the radio and in the shops, back home, so she supposes the holidays are close enough. The next question though — Stella looks at Peggy, for a long moment, then turns her gaze away and down, the closest thing to sheepish that she's ever been. A slight smile pulls at one corner of her mouth.

"Well, I can't sing," she says on looking back up, which isn't strictly true. She can carry a tune and she's far from tone-deaf, but she's never been taught to sing — and there's a peculiar intimacy to singing for someone, which is why she's never done it.

That said, if Peggy asked her to, she might just. But only because it's Peggy.

[womanofvalue]

"I can hardly, either," Peggy notes, even though she can certainly carry a tune, but actually singing for someone else's entertainment is another thing completely all-together and that's a road she's not sure that she wants to start going down.

She shifts in the bed, squeezing Stella's hand firmly and staring up at her with exhaustion in every part of her, from how she lies to how she looks. "Just don't leave, I'll accept that instead of the singing. You can tell me stories of what's happening."