What dark time is coming? [private conversation]

[chilichoc]

[Fake-Winchester is blindingly sunny today, and Mel's eyes are strangely sensitive. She was sitting on the window seat trying to study the spell for going home, but she started to feel ill and dizzy, and it didn't stop until she pulled the curtains shut and moved well away from the window, to the bed. What the fuck is wrong with me? she thinks. She

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[downtothefilter]

[Mail has been increasingly worried over Mel. So much, that he’s spent a few hours pouring over books in the library in hopes of matching her symptoms, but to no avail. Nothing in the medical section was of any use.

One book did catch his eye, but the fact that it was on fictional viruses almost was enough cause for him to leave it, but after skimming he decided to keep it just in case.

He makes a quick stop to the kitchen to fix some lunch for them both before heading back to the room, book and food in hand. He knocks twice on the door to let her know that he’s here, and opens it after a moment, careful not to step on their recently acquired pet’s already-chewed leather shoe as he deposits both the book and the plate on the desk, and leans over to plant a kiss on Mel’s cheek.]

I see you’re biting again.

[chilichoc]

*She reluctantly pulls her finger out of her mouth with a quiet "pop," and looks up at him. It's still hard for her to admit things like this, but they did just promise not to keep any secrets.*

Yeah. It's getting worse. *She bites her lower lip, and winces when she almost draws blood.* Mail... I'm really scared.

[downtothefilter]

[He takes her hand in his own, and brings it to his lips, kissing her finger softly.] I am too, Mel. You’ll be alright, though.

[Then he notices how much cooler she seems, and frowns, pressing a hand to her forehead and cheeks.] Are you hot, Mel?

[chilichoc]

It must be some mansion dumbfuckery, but. I can't think how it got me.

*She frowns too, knowing she can't keep him from worrying.* Not anymore. It was way too hot in the window seat.