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[noburden]

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[noburden]

A day of housekeeping (a thing she deeply enjoys, mind you) has kept her busy. Clive had looked a little sweaty, she had noted in the morning, but she opens the windows before heading outside to groom Torgal. The floors don't appreciate his sharp claws. Then she's back inside, taking stock of the pantry. Clive's only tasks are to handle the garden, and it's early yet, so when she finds him taking a nap she simply lets him be and heads upstairs to change the bedding and gather things to take down to the basement.

She's just putting the last pillow back on the bed when he appears. The sight of him makes her frown. It's not unlike him to put off work.

The cough makes her brow furrow.

"Clive," she says, stepping around the bed to approach him. "Are you ill?"

[rosarianoath]

"No," he says, without any preamble.

He blinks at her, wondering why she would think such a thing. He's been sick before, and this is nothing like that: he hasn't eaten any rotting food or weathered storms without shelter, nor has he had any particularly grievous wounds lately.

"I think I just slept poorly last night."

[noburden]

He looks clammy. Jill reaches up to touch the back of her fingers to his cheek. He's sticky with sweat, and she confirms by pressing her palm to his forehead.

"Don't worry about the garden. You're going to bed," she tells him. She's glad he'll have fresh sheets to sleep on, even if she thinks he might sweat through them. Her hands drop down to the hem of his shirt.

"Lift your arms."

His shirt is damp.

[rosarianoath]

He lets her touch him, and though he watches her hand approach with the thought that he'll be annoyed when she insists upon his being ill, her touch is caring. Comforting. He closes his eyes briefly, head sagging.

"I'm not ill," he insists, but he does as she asks, lifting his arms up. He pauses midway to turn his head for another nasty cough. He mutters as he lets her drag the shirt up: "There must be something from breakfast stuck in my throat."

The breakfast he hadn't quite finished, for once.

[noburden]

It's all beginning to make sense. He didn't finish his breakfast, and she thought perhaps he didn't like it but was too polite to say. But now that she thinks about it, he slept through lunch, too.

The damp shirt is tossed aside.

"Is it sore?" She asks, knowing it must be, with that sort of cough. Jill steps behind him and puts her hands on his hips, steering him towards their bed.

[rosarianoath]

"I'm fine, Jill," he says, a little annoyed, but he moves with her, head too full of cotton to offend her by pulling away. Also, he has to reserve his strength for hunting tonight. He is crawling into bed before he realizes it, planting himself face-first into the pillow. Muffled: "I'll be fine by nightfall."

[noburden]

"You've told me you're fine after having half your face scraped off, or have you forgotten? You're not going hunting tonight."

And that's that. She leans down to run her fingers through his hair, scalp hot.

[rosarianoath]

“If I don’t go hunting I don’t get paid,” he tells his pillow, but he can’t bring himself to turn his head until he has to cough again.

Her touch is divine, and feels like ice, given how warm he is.

[noburden]

"We'll be fine," she assures him, and then rubs his back. "You haven't been yourself all day, and now I see why. You need to sleep this off, Clive."

[rosarianoath]

“I will rally before long,” he promises. It’s not supposed to be an admission of anything. “I just need a moment…”

[noburden]

Sure.

"Yes, love," Jill says, and doesn't even bother telling him to stay put as she steps away. She can feel how miserable he feels just by looking at him. He won't move.

Her footsteps take her to the bathroom, where she turns on the faucet and wets a washcloth before returning to the side of the bed. She neatly folds it before placing it on the back of his neck.

"Rest your eyes for a moment."

More like go to sleep.

[rosarianoath]

“Just a moment,” he agrees, continuing to melt into bed. He’s out like a light within minutes, only to cough in his sleep and be awake again before long, but at least it’s easier to breathe on his stomach.

[noburden]

Poor man. Neither of them are going to get much rest tonight, she thinks.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she returns to combing her fingers through his hair. He smells sick.

"Something hot might soothe your throat," she offers. "I can make you tea. Soup, if you're hungry."

[rosarianoath]

Okay, maybe it’s nice laying down. He finds himself breathing through his mouth.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles. “You don’t need to take care of me… you have things to do…”

But he likes it.

[noburden]

Jill scoffs, the sound gentle.

"Nothing is more important than taking care of you," she tells him.

He's not hungry. He must be near death's door.

[rosarianoath]

Oh. That’s very nice, actually. He gropes around to find her thigh with his hand.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ll need my strength to…”

Hunt tonight, but then he coughs and hacks for a solid ten seconds.

[noburden]

Jill patiently waits, mildly worried--surely this is the worst of whatever ails him.

"You're not going to find anything to hunt if they hear you coming," she murmurs. "Rest your eyes some more. I'm going to make you tea to soothe your throat."

[rosarianoath]

“I can use it as a distraction,” he mutters, closing his eyes. “I’ll strike when they think I’m weakened.”

He’s out before she even leaves the room.

[noburden]

Jill peers down at him before leaving to go make that tea. Skipped is her usual addition of too much sugar, but honey is added instead. That should help.

When she returns, she places it on his nightstand before putting her hand on his shoulder. She hates to wake him but he needs to sit up, at least for a few minutes

[rosarianoath]

Clive grumbles and pushes himself up on his arms enough to roll onto his side. He can still hunt, he thinks, mind stuck in a loop.

“I’ve slept enough now,” he says.

[noburden]

He can say what he likes. Jill knows what the evening will look like for him.

She grabs the now warm washcloth from him and folds it again so she can wipe it over his face.

"Sit up and drink. You'll feel better." Not enough to hunt, but if that's what he wants to believe, he can.

[rosarianoath]

He hauls himself to sit with what he feels is a god-like effort, even though he tries to maintain some dignity around the whole affair: he sits as tall and presentably as he can muster, even shirtless with damp sweatpants and his bangs starting to plaster to his skin. He looks at her.

"Thank you," he mutters, stifling a cough by holding his breath right after, so it's just an awkward clearing of his throat. "Maybe we can go out for dinner, too."

Denial denial denial denial denial.

[noburden]

Her poor Clive. Jill gives him a sympathetic smile. Joshua is the sickly one, not him. He's not used to this. Very carefully, she passes him the tea when he seems to be free from coughing, though she keeps a hand nearby to help.

"Perhaps when your appetite returns," she reminds him patiently.

[rosarianoath]

He takes the tea, and drinks it the same way he might chug a beer, like he's parched for it.

"I just need a minute," he insists.

[noburden]

As he speaks, Jill crawls onto the bed, sitting beside him against the pillows.

"Take a minute against me so I can run my fingers through your hair," she says simply. That and the tea will give him some peace from how awful he must feel, she thinks.