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CHARACTERS: Death (nonespared) & Famine (eatasam)
DATE/TIME: Wednesday night
LOCATION: Fam and Pestilence's humble abode
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: A certain skinny man's foul mouth. Dog cuddling cuteness.
SUMMARY: Death can't bring her brother shopping, so she'll bring the shopping to him. From a distance. Because she doesn't want his mono.
The last couple of weeks hadn't been kind to Famine's body, which hadn't been in tip top shape to begin with, so the viral invasion courtesy of the resident cripple was only half-welcomed. Expected, of course. But not for another few weeks. From what he gathered with all that bad luck going around, it was only natural for his symptoms to worsen by the day. Wheezing? Check. Nosebleeds? Check. Increased heart rate? Check. It was a wonder he hadn't ended up in the bloody hospital.
Of course, it helped that his sister had come round after a few days to tend to him, as much as she would allow herself to, considering her vehement refusal to get too close. And he couldn't blame her. Still, he would've done the same for her.
Over a week later, Famine was doing considerably better. The sore throat had fortunately lessened, allowing him to actually talk, but it came out in something of a rasp when he did. His fever had passed days ago, and now the worst of it was the general lethargy and soreness. Which was why he had made the couch his home, the one he was currently draped across like a lazing sloth. It was good not to have any obligations outside of the obvious.
Because he was fucking awesome at being lazy.
DATE/TIME: Wednesday night
LOCATION: Fam and Pestilence's humble abode
RATING: PG-13
WARNINGS: A certain skinny man's foul mouth. Dog cuddling cuteness.
SUMMARY: Death can't bring her brother shopping, so she'll bring the shopping to him. From a distance. Because she doesn't want his mono.
The last couple of weeks hadn't been kind to Famine's body, which hadn't been in tip top shape to begin with, so the viral invasion courtesy of the resident cripple was only half-welcomed. Expected, of course. But not for another few weeks. From what he gathered with all that bad luck going around, it was only natural for his symptoms to worsen by the day. Wheezing? Check. Nosebleeds? Check. Increased heart rate? Check. It was a wonder he hadn't ended up in the bloody hospital.
Of course, it helped that his sister had come round after a few days to tend to him, as much as she would allow herself to, considering her vehement refusal to get too close. And he couldn't blame her. Still, he would've done the same for her.
Over a week later, Famine was doing considerably better. The sore throat had fortunately lessened, allowing him to actually talk, but it came out in something of a rasp when he did. His fever had passed days ago, and now the worst of it was the general lethargy and soreness. Which was why he had made the couch his home, the one he was currently draped across like a lazing sloth. It was good not to have any obligations outside of the obvious.
Because he was fucking awesome at being lazy.