Vanilla #2: Care and Concern
Author: Lumelle
Title: Care and Concern
'Verse: Mythical Lore 101
Challenge: Vanilla #2: The Sniffles
Toppings/Extras: None
Word Count: 691
Rating: G
Summary: Ansa is sick. Otso doesn't care except he does.
Notes: Present day; they're university age. The 'verse's technically urban fantasy; for a brief explanation on magic skills in this world, see here.
"I feel miserable," Ansa announced. She burrowed deeper under the covers, shivering. The fever was getting worse again. Cuddling her unicorn closer, she shut her eyes tightly.
"Yeah, I've noticed as much." Otso didn't appear to care much, his tone rather dismissive.
Honestly. What good were roommates if you couldn't even expect to get some compassion from them? She opened her eyes just enough to glare at him. Her friend was currently in the kitchen, apparently entirely unconcerned about her misery. She could see him reading a book of some sort, not even looking her way.
"What kind of a friend are you?" she grumbled. "You could show at least some concern!"
"The kind of a friend who firmly subscribes to the school of thought that sleeping makes you better," he replied calmly. "So shut your cute little mouth and eyes and go to sleep. Whining won't make you feel any better."
She tried to glare at him again, her attempt interrupted by a rather mighty sneeze. She did scowl as she burrowed deeper under the covers, though. The heartless little bastard. When she got better, she'd make him regret this.
First, though, she might actually get some sleep…
When she woke up, it was to the sound of someone calling her name. Peeking out from under the covers and looking up somewhat blearily, she found herself greeted by Otso's gaze.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, nudging her as though for a good measure even though it should have been clear she was more or less awake already. "You've been asleep for hours."
"…Weren't you the one who told me to go to sleep?" she whined, hugging her unicorn closer. "And now you wake me up just to be mean…"
"Nah. I woke you up so you could get something to eat." …Now that he mentioned it, the smell of something apparently delicious was getting through even her stuffy nose… "Sit up."
Shivering with cold as she did as instructed, Ansa blinked as she was presented with a bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup. It really smelled great. Then again, anything Otso cooked tended to be great. As she took it into her hands, though, she noticed something else than the smell.
"…What'd you do to this?" she asked suspiciously. It wasn't that she thought he'd feed her anything too suspicious, but she was also fairly sure normal chicken soup recipes didn't lead to swirls of magic travelling about in her bowl. It didn't seem malevolent, but it did cause her to wonder.
"Don't get so jumpy," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's just Grandma's recipe. Guaranteed to get you better if you eat it and sleep some more."
"…I'm not sure what I find to laugh at more, here," she murmured. "That this is obviously just a ploy to get me to sleep again, or that you declare magic is for sissies so the only kind you bother to learn is healing potions in the form of chicken soup." Not that she would have laughed. Her throat was aching too much for that.
Otso tched. "Just eat it, okay?" he sighed. "I don't want to listen to any more of your whines."
"So nice to know you care." She started to eat, though, slowly at first; the soup was still hot and didn't exactly agree with her poor aching throat. With some patience, though, she got through it all, finally giving the empty bowl back to Otso. "…It was good."
"Of course it was," he replied with an infuriatingly smug little grin. "Now eyes shut, kid. You won't get any better if you don't get some more sleep."
"I'm only three months younger than you are," she protested, but fell back against her pillows anyway. She didn't particularly feel like arguing. Her eyes fell shut almost on their own, her ears just barely catching the sound of retreating steps as she dozed off.
She could have sworn she felt someone pulling the covers properly over her some time later, but she knew that if she'd asked him about it, Otso would have vehemently denied everything.
Title: Care and Concern
'Verse: Mythical Lore 101
Challenge: Vanilla #2: The Sniffles
Toppings/Extras: None
Word Count: 691
Rating: G
Summary: Ansa is sick. Otso doesn't care except he does.
Notes: Present day; they're university age. The 'verse's technically urban fantasy; for a brief explanation on magic skills in this world, see here.
"I feel miserable," Ansa announced. She burrowed deeper under the covers, shivering. The fever was getting worse again. Cuddling her unicorn closer, she shut her eyes tightly.
"Yeah, I've noticed as much." Otso didn't appear to care much, his tone rather dismissive.
Honestly. What good were roommates if you couldn't even expect to get some compassion from them? She opened her eyes just enough to glare at him. Her friend was currently in the kitchen, apparently entirely unconcerned about her misery. She could see him reading a book of some sort, not even looking her way.
"What kind of a friend are you?" she grumbled. "You could show at least some concern!"
"The kind of a friend who firmly subscribes to the school of thought that sleeping makes you better," he replied calmly. "So shut your cute little mouth and eyes and go to sleep. Whining won't make you feel any better."
She tried to glare at him again, her attempt interrupted by a rather mighty sneeze. She did scowl as she burrowed deeper under the covers, though. The heartless little bastard. When she got better, she'd make him regret this.
First, though, she might actually get some sleep…
When she woke up, it was to the sound of someone calling her name. Peeking out from under the covers and looking up somewhat blearily, she found herself greeted by Otso's gaze.
"Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, nudging her as though for a good measure even though it should have been clear she was more or less awake already. "You've been asleep for hours."
"…Weren't you the one who told me to go to sleep?" she whined, hugging her unicorn closer. "And now you wake me up just to be mean…"
"Nah. I woke you up so you could get something to eat." …Now that he mentioned it, the smell of something apparently delicious was getting through even her stuffy nose… "Sit up."
Shivering with cold as she did as instructed, Ansa blinked as she was presented with a bowl of what appeared to be chicken soup. It really smelled great. Then again, anything Otso cooked tended to be great. As she took it into her hands, though, she noticed something else than the smell.
"…What'd you do to this?" she asked suspiciously. It wasn't that she thought he'd feed her anything too suspicious, but she was also fairly sure normal chicken soup recipes didn't lead to swirls of magic travelling about in her bowl. It didn't seem malevolent, but it did cause her to wonder.
"Don't get so jumpy," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "It's just Grandma's recipe. Guaranteed to get you better if you eat it and sleep some more."
"…I'm not sure what I find to laugh at more, here," she murmured. "That this is obviously just a ploy to get me to sleep again, or that you declare magic is for sissies so the only kind you bother to learn is healing potions in the form of chicken soup." Not that she would have laughed. Her throat was aching too much for that.
Otso tched. "Just eat it, okay?" he sighed. "I don't want to listen to any more of your whines."
"So nice to know you care." She started to eat, though, slowly at first; the soup was still hot and didn't exactly agree with her poor aching throat. With some patience, though, she got through it all, finally giving the empty bowl back to Otso. "…It was good."
"Of course it was," he replied with an infuriatingly smug little grin. "Now eyes shut, kid. You won't get any better if you don't get some more sleep."
"I'm only three months younger than you are," she protested, but fell back against her pillows anyway. She didn't particularly feel like arguing. Her eyes fell shut almost on their own, her ears just barely catching the sound of retreating steps as she dozed off.
She could have sworn she felt someone pulling the covers properly over her some time later, but she knew that if she'd asked him about it, Otso would have vehemently denied everything.