✄ nanana this is what happens

[sicilia_graecia]

[ Ciro's sick. He knows he's sick. He figures it's just a bad case of the stomach flu.

It would definitely explain his headache, the fever, and why he was vomiting. He knows now not to go around eating after two days of not doing so at all. The very thought of food makes him sick to his stomach. To make matters worse, he began waking up in the

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[devilwentdownto]

Will doesn't look so great himself, the budget deficits are really beginning to get to him, but he's ignoring them for now in favor of continuing to work and look on the bright side and Oh God don't even mention that he's gotta figure out the water thing...

He kneels by the couch, an expression of worry covering hi face.
Dar- His voice croaks briefly so he clears it before continuing. D-darlin'... 're ya alrigh'?

[ooc XDD Alrighty~ see ya then.]

[sicilia_graecia]

[ His glare lessening as he peers over. ] I feel about as good as you do, William. Though it looks like you're not feeling so good either.

[devilwentdownto]

Ah'm... ah'm doin' alrigh'. Is there anythin' ah can do fer ya?

[sicilia_graecia]

Stop lying to yourself. [ A pause. ] ... not unless I can be fed something that wouldn't have me vomiting twenty minutes later, no. Or maybe you could try and get this Lent thing over with sooner, yeah?

[devilwentdownto]

He shakes his head.
N-naw, ah ain't lyin' ta mahself. There's other folk who're doin' worse 'an me.

An' ah can' move God's calendar darlin'... 'm sorry. Bu' would ya like ta try some broth?

[sicilia_graecia]

You should be in bed.

"God's calender" isn't fitting my tight schedule. I think he should move that calender to, I don't know, make this Lent thing every fucking leap year. [ FUUUUME. Sighing. ] ... I guess I could try broth.

[devilwentdownto]

He shakes his head.
'm no' tha' sick yet. an' God shouldn' move His calendar, ya jus' got ta work with Him.

He nods, straightening up.
Will chicken be alrigh'? Or d'ya like beef?

[sicilia_graecia]

After you're done here, go to bed. I can't work with someone who I am not quite so sure is real anymore.

Chicken'd be fine.

[devilwentdownto]

He flinched slightly at that.
Y-yessir. A-an' a'course He's real. He's God. A-ah'll be righ' back. With that he hurried from the room to fix the said broth.

[sicilia_graecia]

[ Right. So many questions he'd like to ask on that subject. Technically speaking, "God" is--he stops his train of thought and shakes his head, watching him go.

And now he's waiting. So tired. ]

[devilwentdownto]

He soon returns with a mug of not quite clear liquid, still steaming slightly from the stove. He's also brought some orange juice in a tall glass.
Darlin'? Ya still awake?

[sicilia_graecia]

Of course I am. No way I'm getting to sleep with the night terrors. [ But he does have the blanket huddled closer, as if he could fall asleep. ]

[devilwentdownto]

He brings the food over, biting his lip in worry.
N-night terrors? Those're like real bad nightmares aren't they?

[sicilia_graecia]

Yeah. They make you thrash in your sleep and make very loud, unamusing noises. You know, screams of anguish? Not fun stuff.

[devilwentdownto]

O-oh... ah wouldn' think they... would be fun.
He holds the mug out slightly.
W-would ya like ta try some?

[sicilia_graecia]

They aren't. I almost hit Leo in the face.
[ He takes the mug, hands showing to be bandaged but so God help you if you ask about it. ]
Yes, grazie. [ Aaand, blowing on it now before taking a sip. ]