12-05-2018, 08:33 PM
There is little she knows but sickness.
She sleeps, a lot. A lot more than a girl her age should. Exhaustion, it is all she feels as her little body awakes, as she drags herself to her mother, as she tries unsuccessfully to drink. What was a nightmare to an adult, was hell on earth for a foal.
Three months. Three months being holed up in the tower, three months of progressing sickness. Miela's petite body grows weaker each day - brittle bones struggle to hold her weight, hooves drag almost zombie-like along the cold granite of the cliff-side palace. What should be a vibrant, glittering coat grows duller by the seconds - her hair falls out in unsightly clumps. The fever dizzies her vision, the cough scratches her throat. She is not doing well - in fact, she is far from it.
She is knocking on death's door.
But, even in the plague, there are some things that make her happy. Curled to her mother's side, at the opening of the cavern, she watches the sun begin to set against the sky. Soft pink, lavender, tangerine, and cerulean swirl together beautifully. She is enchanted, so much so that she hardly even notices her mother talking with Castile.
Not that she could focus on it for very long anyway.
So, the glittering girl lays, sweat covering her delicate frame, chest heaving as she wheezes. In and out she reminds herself to breath, though it hurts. In and out...
@[Sabra] @[Castile] basically she needs a healer asap lmao.
She sleeps, a lot. A lot more than a girl her age should. Exhaustion, it is all she feels as her little body awakes, as she drags herself to her mother, as she tries unsuccessfully to drink. What was a nightmare to an adult, was hell on earth for a foal.
Three months. Three months being holed up in the tower, three months of progressing sickness. Miela's petite body grows weaker each day - brittle bones struggle to hold her weight, hooves drag almost zombie-like along the cold granite of the cliff-side palace. What should be a vibrant, glittering coat grows duller by the seconds - her hair falls out in unsightly clumps. The fever dizzies her vision, the cough scratches her throat. She is not doing well - in fact, she is far from it.
She is knocking on death's door.
But, even in the plague, there are some things that make her happy. Curled to her mother's side, at the opening of the cavern, she watches the sun begin to set against the sky. Soft pink, lavender, tangerine, and cerulean swirl together beautifully. She is enchanted, so much so that she hardly even notices her mother talking with Castile.
Not that she could focus on it for very long anyway.
So, the glittering girl lays, sweat covering her delicate frame, chest heaving as she wheezes. In and out she reminds herself to breath, though it hurts. In and out...
@[Sabra] @[Castile] basically she needs a healer asap lmao.