Day 56: Twin Pines Restaurant (Early Afternoon)
Having spent almost the entire morning in the cold, Edgar finally decided it was time to address his groaning middle. It was hard enough to focus as he thumbed through the coupon book without his stomach doing flips: he was shivering, but still felt tremendous heat radiating from within him. The attempt at a nap on a park bench hadn't helped his fever, it seemed. Perhaps some food would.
That was granted that he was primarily hungry and not nauseated- after a while, they began to feel exactly the same. He had to assume it was mostly the former at this point, given how he'd eaten like a bird the day before- with what was on the menu at the institute as of late, it was easy to lose one's appetite. He'd been looking forward to the Doyleton trip for one last chance at a decent meal before a week of the pink slop; it was unfortunate he'd spent most of the day feeling as though he couldn't hold down anything he ate.
The restaurant looked pleasant enough from the inside- it was only a moment before one of the waitresses showed Edgar to a lone table and asked him what he'd like to drink. He sent her for water, not even bothering to attempt his usual flirtations (alas, a surefire sign he wasn't feeling like himself). As soon as she'd left, he pulled his sweater over his head; his brow was already feeling damp again. He put his elbows on the table, burying his eyes in his palms. He ached all over, worn from the oppressive blaze and the accompanying frustration. Who even knew if he'd live long enough to gain the magic that supposedly came with all the sickness?
No, he'd survive. Edgar took a deep breath- it rattled through him, the cold air of the day having not soothed his scorched throat in the least. While this was possibly the most ill he'd ever been, it wasn't the worst situation he'd faced. The feverish shakes and physical discomfort would go away eventually. What was truly worrying were the after effects: the promise of fire magic, introduced into him in a way that had left at least one notable person with shattered sanity. Even if his mind was intact and the sweltering suffering hadn't driven him mad- yet, anyway- the thought of magic presented in such a way left him uneasy. Fire was an immensely destructive force, and if it turned out it was beyond his control...
Edgar sighed, his hands cupping to cover the front of his face as he fought away another wave of queasiness. He closed his eyes- he could worry until he'd thought a hole in the ground, and it wouldn't do him any good. There were no other options: if he was truly going to be a magic-wielder again- or a Magitek Knight, as the doctor had put it- he'd learn to handle it. He wasn't certain of what would happen, but he knew he couldn't let them get the best of him.
[Lunge and L]
That was granted that he was primarily hungry and not nauseated- after a while, they began to feel exactly the same. He had to assume it was mostly the former at this point, given how he'd eaten like a bird the day before- with what was on the menu at the institute as of late, it was easy to lose one's appetite. He'd been looking forward to the Doyleton trip for one last chance at a decent meal before a week of the pink slop; it was unfortunate he'd spent most of the day feeling as though he couldn't hold down anything he ate.
The restaurant looked pleasant enough from the inside- it was only a moment before one of the waitresses showed Edgar to a lone table and asked him what he'd like to drink. He sent her for water, not even bothering to attempt his usual flirtations (alas, a surefire sign he wasn't feeling like himself). As soon as she'd left, he pulled his sweater over his head; his brow was already feeling damp again. He put his elbows on the table, burying his eyes in his palms. He ached all over, worn from the oppressive blaze and the accompanying frustration. Who even knew if he'd live long enough to gain the magic that supposedly came with all the sickness?
No, he'd survive. Edgar took a deep breath- it rattled through him, the cold air of the day having not soothed his scorched throat in the least. While this was possibly the most ill he'd ever been, it wasn't the worst situation he'd faced. The feverish shakes and physical discomfort would go away eventually. What was truly worrying were the after effects: the promise of fire magic, introduced into him in a way that had left at least one notable person with shattered sanity. Even if his mind was intact and the sweltering suffering hadn't driven him mad- yet, anyway- the thought of magic presented in such a way left him uneasy. Fire was an immensely destructive force, and if it turned out it was beyond his control...
Edgar sighed, his hands cupping to cover the front of his face as he fought away another wave of queasiness. He closed his eyes- he could worry until he'd thought a hole in the ground, and it wouldn't do him any good. There were no other options: if he was truly going to be a magic-wielder again- or a Magitek Knight, as the doctor had put it- he'd learn to handle it. He wasn't certain of what would happen, but he knew he couldn't let them get the best of him.
[Lunge and L]