A Large House In New Jersey, Saturday

[witchoftheflesh]

Adrian dipped the towel into a basin full of cool water, heavily scented with herbs, wrung it just dry enough that it wouldn't drip, and placed it on her lower abdomen. There was a folded washcloth on her forehead, another tucked under her neck and behind her knees, and draped over her side, held in place by her arms. Normally, he'd wipe her body down with cooling infusions, but he was trying to disturb her body's lamia as little as possible, and so had to settle for placing cool towels against what his mother called 'hot spots' and hope that helped bring her fever down instead. The remains of a mug of nourishing broth rested on the nightstand; he was careful to not to feed her too much at a time, so she wouldn't choke. His own bowl rested beside it, still steaming, a small enchantments on the bowl itself to keep the contents warm while it waited for him to finish up with her.


"You know, Pam, any time you wanted to wake up would be okay by me," he said, voice low and calm and conversational. "I'm trying to give you time to work through this on your own, but if you're still comatose on Monday, I'm going to have to start using actual magic, and I'm not sure I'm ready to pull the scales off these women's eyes and have them declare my Grove should be the next holistic retreat." Dip. Wring. Place. "I know you can do this, Pam. You're one of the strongest people I know. And I know, I know. Everything in its own time. I'm trying to be patient, but you've got me worried." Dip. Wring. Place.

Eventually, he ran out of towels and retreated back to the chair, sinking into it with a soft groan. He reached for his soup by rote; he didn't feel hungry, but he knew he had to replenish the energy he was spending on her, and food was easier than sleep. He held the bowl for a few minutes, letting the warmth of it sink into his hands. "Come on, Pam," he murmured. "Don't make me start with threats. I've got some single-user plastic packaging right here and I'm not afraid to use it."

[For the unconscious one and SP! NFB for distance]

Comments

[joan_of_bark]

The meadow stretched out forever, the moon hanging so large in the pink night skies. And little Pamela, she picked the flowers, one at a time; little yellow flowers, that burst from their seeds and grew and grew until they shriveled again.

Life. Death. Life again. Every particle of her body came from something that had once been dead. Animals killed, plants harvested. Just energy, transferred.

One day, she would be the same. A seed, planted in another place.

Dead, but not gone.

She rose from the grass then, and looked up at the sky. Something churned in her, filling her stomach. It pushed itself up into her throat, and she pressed her palm against her mouth to push it back. to push it back--

Dead. But not gone.

Woodrue forced himself out through her lips and spat himself out into the world--

Out in that bed in New Jersey, the lamia slowly unraveled. The hyphae untangled themselves from her hair and retreated. The fruit fell from her body, and the green turned to pink skin.

She sucked in a loud, strangled, painful breath.

(Waiting to be reborn.)

[witchoftheflesh]

"Pam?" Adrian said, nearly spilling his soup in his haste to get to her. He'd been alarmed by the retreating hyphae, the mushrooms that had fallen from her, but the change to her skin gave him hope.

"Pam!" Ignoring the danger direct touch might cause, Adrian slipped his arm under her shoulders, raising her body a bit to help her breathe easier, checked her mouth and nostrils for anything that could block her airways.

[joan_of_bark]

He was greeted by the sound of loud, dry coughing.

And green eyes opening, big and wide, staring up at the... sky?

No.

Ceiling. Face.

[witchoftheflesh]

"Hey there, sleepyhead," Adrian said with a chuckle born of relief more than anything else. "Welcome back to the world of the waking."

[joan_of_bark]

Wait. That wasn't a face she'd expected.

Pam's voice sounded rough and drifting, but it was there. "Adrian?"

[witchoftheflesh]

"Yeah," he said, easing her up into a sitting position. "Your friend Janet called me several days ago. I guess you mentioned me? And she didn't know who else to call for help. How are you feeling?"

[joan_of_bark]

Now upright, the details - the memories - began to flood in. Pam shook her head, as if disregarding the entire question. "I need-- centrifuge," she managed. "Slides--" Cough. "--Agar--"

[witchoftheflesh]

"Pam, you've been conscious for about thirty seconds," Adrian pointed out. Then sighed, because he knew how convincing that argument would be. "Can we make a deal? Give me a list of everything you want. I'll get that if you have another mug of soup and one of tea."

[joan_of_bark]

Her eyes snapped back to Adrian. "I don't have time," Pam said flatly. "I have to do this while there are still high levels of antibodies in my blood, or they're all going to die."

[witchoftheflesh]

"Does this place strike you as having a lab all of its own?" Adrian counters. "Do you think Gwen kept a centrifuge and agar handy?" He raised up his hands for peace. "I'm not saying you shouldn't get right to work--" because he knew that would be the fastest way to get her to ignore him entirely "--I'm asking you to take care of yourself while I get what you need together."

[joan_of_bark]

"Ask Janet if she found the car," Pam said. "It should have some of my equipment in it." She batted away at him, pushing away the blankets, shifting her entire body towards the edge of the bed.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

[witchoftheflesh]

Adrian gave Pam a hard stare. This was ridiculous and she knew it. If she were really worried about the antibodies in her blood, they could draw some now and then give her a few days to rest.

"Fine," he said. He wasn't properly her doctor, knew better than to try to tell her what to do anyway. "I'll go ask Janet where you car is, start bringing in your equipment. But you really should eat. It will give you more energy, more focus to do what has to be done, especially since this place isn't set up to be a lab yet. That is, if you're really pushing yourself to help them, and not just because you feel guilty and self-destructive."

He spun on his heel and strode out of the room, frustrated with her pig-headed stubbornness, but refusing to let that stop him from helping.

[joan_of_bark]

Well, at least leaving saved him from the muttered comment about how Pam already had a therapist, and a prettier one to boot.

Truthfully, everything in her body ached. She could feel it as she got up, as she went looking for her overalls, as she plucked herself for a lamia tissue sample.

Downstairs, Janet walked through the hallway, collecting plates. "This house is really too big..."

[witchoftheflesh]

Well where was she, then?

Adrian's face was a thundercloud of worry and aggravation, as he came down the stairs. "Oh, Janet," he said, expression clearing a little. "Pam's awake. And immediately trying to fling herself into work. Do you happen to know where her car is? Apparently it's got a lot of lab equipment she is going to need."

[joan_of_bark]

"Right," Janet said, veering up. "But is she okay? What does she look like? Can she walk? Uh, the van's parked just outside, but there's so many boxes. She's awake?!"

[witchoftheflesh]

"She's awake," Adrian agreed, black longcoat whipping out behind him. "She's much less green and much of the lamia have fallen off. As for okay..." He shrugs. "If it's possible to substitute stubbornness for health, she's going to be just fine."

[joan_of_bark]

"That does sound like Pam," Janet said, pulling a face. She waved at the front door, then seemed to realize she had the keys to said van, and started walking. "If only yelling helped..."

[witchoftheflesh]

"If only," Adrian agreed. "I mean, I still wouldn't be effective because I try not to yell at people, but I have a feeling that Pam is going to test that resolve."

He opened the door for Janet, following her out, and went for the van. "So, we're going through everything she packed up from the island?"

[joan_of_bark]

"At least I think everything's labeled?" Janet ventured, opening up the back to reveal a whole bunch of boxes. "Like I see... hm... 'kitchen', 'books'..."

[witchoftheflesh]

Oh good, because Adrian had no desire to open a box of Pam's underthings. Bless your organizational skills, Pam.

"So probably labeled 'lab' or something?" he said, also poking through the boxes. He tried to keep them in a rough semblance of order, in case she had packed them in a particular way that he was not privy to.

[joan_of_bark]

"Probably," Janet agreed. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she... pushed aside the box of underthings.

Not thinking about that right now. Nope.

(Of course the 'lab' box was all the way at the back. It'd been the first thing Pam had packed. Prioritizing.)

[witchoftheflesh]

"She could have made the soup in the time it's going to take us to find the right box," Adrian grumbled, as he shifted past 'kitchenware.' "All I asked her to do was eat some."

He moves past a few more, double checking that none of them were correct, when finally he spotted it. "Janet! Janet, look! I found it!"

For a hot second, the pride of accomplishing a task that proved to be more difficult than anticipated eclipsed his irritation about what the task actually was.

[joan_of_bark]

"Yesssssss!" Janet yelled, pumping her fist. "Go team!"

Dorks.

"Let's get that inside right away!"

[witchoftheflesh]

"Yes, let's go tell--" Right. Adrian remembered he was not best pleased about this. Well, he was glad that Pam was working to figure out a solution before all these women died (they were all very nice and very appreciative of his marinara sauce), but he already knew that convincing Pam to take care of herself even remotely was going to be an uphill battle.

It's a good thing that witches were patient. And just as stubborn.

[joan_of_bark]

"Can you grab the box?" Janet added. "It, uh. Looks heavy."

And with that, she turned back towards the house. When she opened the door, the sound of someone rifling through kitchen cabinets - and none too carefully - was immediately obvious. "Pam?"

"Who the hell doesn't know where everything is in her own kitchen?" Pam growled, discarding several jars of pickles without as much as a look. "Agar, agar..."