Fevers and Mirrors.
I have been informed that I am running a dangerous risk of overstepping the allotted time in between updates.
So. I will update you.
I had a minor cold last week. Madame Pomfrey and Daphne each took their turns healing me, and I am now rid of the cold. It seems to want to come back, possibly even through the one that I love the most, but I remember the pain it brought me, and I will not let it invade my defenses again.
Fevers are a bothersome thing. One minute you are lucid, and you are trying to grapple with a situation that would, normally speaking, be well beyond your ability to deal with, and you are fairly calm, because you are too weak to do anything but live. And the next moment, you are somewhere else, and you are cold, and you do not remember what has been said, but you begin to remember what has been done.
And then help arrives and you are past the point of realizing you need it, but you cannot even think to protest because you are too far gone with the sickness. She carries you away from it, and it is only when you are quarantined from it, when you are away from the illness, that you can truly appreciate how much damage it did you, and how much you needed her.
Well. May my metaphors not be lost on you. I must go, for she is waiting. I am not healed, but I am trying. I know that she will not fail me.
Good night.
So. I will update you.
I had a minor cold last week. Madame Pomfrey and Daphne each took their turns healing me, and I am now rid of the cold. It seems to want to come back, possibly even through the one that I love the most, but I remember the pain it brought me, and I will not let it invade my defenses again.
Fevers are a bothersome thing. One minute you are lucid, and you are trying to grapple with a situation that would, normally speaking, be well beyond your ability to deal with, and you are fairly calm, because you are too weak to do anything but live. And the next moment, you are somewhere else, and you are cold, and you do not remember what has been said, but you begin to remember what has been done.
And then help arrives and you are past the point of realizing you need it, but you cannot even think to protest because you are too far gone with the sickness. She carries you away from it, and it is only when you are quarantined from it, when you are away from the illness, that you can truly appreciate how much damage it did you, and how much you needed her.
Well. May my metaphors not be lost on you. I must go, for she is waiting. I am not healed, but I am trying. I know that she will not fail me.
Good night.