Got a bit caught up in classwork, but am writing it now:
Wrapped in her blanket, Dawn shuffled her way down the hall. Her head was aching and it was taking all her concentration to stay upright. Presently on the way back from the kitchen, where she had been rooting around for a hot drink, she suspected staying in bed would probably have been the best bet.
However, after a night alone in her room with nothing but the memory of what she had seen dancing across her consciousness, something more than four walls had seemed appealing.
In spite of herself, she had also crept in to check on Spike.
Just Spike.
Totally just Spike.
He had barely seemed to notice she was there. Either asleep or unconscious, or somewhere in between the two, he was curled up in the middle of the bed, but he definitely didn’t look like he was in any pain.
She had seen the bites ringing his throat, savage and deep, but they were no longer bleeding. In fact, there had been no trace of the blood she had seen spattered everywhere when she had seen him hours earlier.
Even weirder was the fact he had been tucked up like a child, with the blankets neatly arranged over him.
With way too much to think about and way too much time to do it in, especially with a head that felt like it was feeling up with wet cotton wool balls, she had continued onto the kitchen, finding some kind of herbal tea.
Her cup cradled in her left hand, her right held her blanket snugly around her as she nudged her bedroom door open with her foot. Making a mental note to ask about proper heating, she was relieved to see that her pitiable attempt at a fire was still smoldering in the grate. That was something.
Pushing the door closed behind her, she was halfway across the room, on her way to the chair by the fire, when she saw the flicker of motion on the periphery of her vision and stopped dead.
Thumbing through a book, Herbert didn’t look up at her. He was sitting on her bed, against the broad headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.
“Good morning, darling,” he said after several minutes of silence broken only by the sound of Dawn’s breathing and the rustle of pages. His eyes flicked up to her and he frowned suddenly.
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Date: 2006-03-22 07:03 am (UTC)Wrapped in her blanket, Dawn shuffled her way down the hall. Her head was aching and it was taking all her concentration to stay upright. Presently on the way back from the kitchen, where she had been rooting around for a hot drink, she suspected staying in bed would probably have been the best bet.
However, after a night alone in her room with nothing but the memory of what she had seen dancing across her consciousness, something more than four walls had seemed appealing.
In spite of herself, she had also crept in to check on Spike.
Just Spike.
Totally just Spike.
He had barely seemed to notice she was there. Either asleep or unconscious, or somewhere in between the two, he was curled up in the middle of the bed, but he definitely didn’t look like he was in any pain.
She had seen the bites ringing his throat, savage and deep, but they were no longer bleeding. In fact, there had been no trace of the blood she had seen spattered everywhere when she had seen him hours earlier.
Even weirder was the fact he had been tucked up like a child, with the blankets neatly arranged over him.
With way too much to think about and way too much time to do it in, especially with a head that felt like it was feeling up with wet cotton wool balls, she had continued onto the kitchen, finding some kind of herbal tea.
Her cup cradled in her left hand, her right held her blanket snugly around her as she nudged her bedroom door open with her foot. Making a mental note to ask about proper heating, she was relieved to see that her pitiable attempt at a fire was still smoldering in the grate. That was something.
Pushing the door closed behind her, she was halfway across the room, on her way to the chair by the fire, when she saw the flicker of motion on the periphery of her vision and stopped dead.
Thumbing through a book, Herbert didn’t look up at her. He was sitting on her bed, against the broad headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed.
“Good morning, darling,” he said after several minutes of silence broken only by the sound of Dawn’s breathing and the rustle of pages. His eyes flicked up to her and he frowned suddenly.