Like my heart longs for an ocean

Winter had arrived in a snap, leaving Auster covered in ice. The frigid conditions had been unexpected and, just as Haydée had been regaining her spark of life, illness has struck her down. It had been soon after the freeze had settled in that she had felt the need to go and talk with the grave of her father so, one frigid night, she had trekked from her den to the little graveyard that housed the remains of the man whom she missed deeply. She had spent that cold night pouring her soul out to the ghosts of those who had once been alive, even as a chill had settled into her bones. Still, the small woman had remained there with no coat or furs to offer to her warmth as she spoke of things she had held onto for too long.

With the raising of the sun, she had slipped back into the familiar confines of her den and, as she retreated the cold air had tickled her throat and pulled a cough from her lips. Exhaustion had quickly pulled her into a deep, dreamless sleep and, when she awoke, the cough had remained. Throughout the next several days, that cough had deepened, turning from dry to wet and weak to deep as the illness infiltrated her lungs. A fever confined her to her bed and ripped through her already frail body, stealing what little fat she had been able to build up and leaving her trembling and weak in its wake.

Fear tried to root itself in her brain but the small woman was too sick to realize just how bad the sickness was. Time passes by as a blur, reality blurring with fever days to leave her confused and alone. A voice pulls her from the slurry of dreams that feel real, vivid, horrible, and strange all at the same time and her fever bright emerald eyes slowly blink open. Her breathing is ragged, the fluid that has built up in her lungs slowly and is slowly drowning her on dry land can be heard with every inhalation and exhaltion. Yet, even in her compromised state the sight of Eltrys blurry form materializing in front of her eyes pulls a smile to her lips and causes her heart to flutter in her chest.

Pulling in a breath to say his name, the simply drag of air against the back of her throat sends her into a coughing fit that rattles her frame and sparks pain deep inside her chest. Features crumple as she tries to curl into herself and force the horrible, wet, wrecking coughs to cease so that she can merely breath. The world dissolves as Haydée’s eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking out the corners at the sheer agony that the coughing fit causes her. Finally, the fit subsides and she whimpers pitifully as she tries to even out her breathing.

Eyes snap open and in a sudden moment of clarity, her too bright eyes, glazed with fever, find Eltrys’s artic blue gaze and she mutters weakly, “I don’t feel well.” Her voice is raspy, thin as paper and cracks at the end as another, less intense fit seizes her for a moment. Thoughts muddle together, the illness so deeply rooted in her body that Haydée doesn’t even know how much has passed since she first felt sick. Frail form shivers violently as the fever rages and she curls toward the taller man, seeking comfort in his strong arms while also seeking the warmth her body so desperately craves.

Every breath is too loud, too ragged to be called normal and the way her chest shudders every now and then speaks of the effort it takes for the normally simple task. In the relative silence of the den, her voice broken whimpers out, “It hurts.” Tears flow down her cheeks as she tries to suppress the cough that wells in her throat, not wanting to experience the agony that comes with the fits while also knowing it is only a matter of time until it will rip itself free.


"Haydée Kedieo"