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31_days2009-10-13 12:18 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-10-13 12:18 pm
[Oct. 13] [Suikoden III] Relapse
Title: Relapse
Day/Theme: Oct. 13, 2009 "This world of dew/ is only a world of dew-/ and yet... oh and yet..."
Series: Suikoden III
Character/Pairing: Kiheiji, Lelia, Forte, Sasarai
Rating: PG
"I think you're looking better, Lelia," Stephen remarked as he ducked into the room. She had been sitting up more and had finished her meal of soup and bread. She still have blotches on her skin, but they were fading away. Earlier that day she had even managed to read a story to Sina and Tylo, who were thrilled over the first extended contact with their mother in days.
"I still don't feel quite myself," she admitted, looking down at her pale and trembling hands.
"I'm sure that will come soon enough," he tried to be optimistic as he scooped up her dishes to art off to the sink.
Lelia looked around the quiet room once he left and sighed. She wished she could share his hopeful outlook, but all around her she felt the clammy embrace of death closing in. Even the flowers Mareesa had brought in to lighten the place up were drooping. It seemed as if merely spending a day in the sickroom had sapped them of all their strength. She would've liked to out and get some fresh air, but she was still so weak. "Maybe tomorrow," she told herself. "Definitely tomorrow," she decided. Even if it was hard, she would make the effort and ask Kiheiji to help her.
Around midnight, Lelia took a turn for the worse. Forte was dozing at the bedside of a young girl, Roza, who was unable to sleep due to the anxieties her illness aroused in her. He had thought of dosing her with a sleeping potion, but was reluctant to give anything so strong to such a small girl. Fortunately, she was soothed by his presence, so he had settled down in a chair beside her to keep her company as long as none of the other patients needed him.
Kiheiji walked quietly but quickly through the darkened house. "Doctor," he reached out to touch Forte's shoulder. "Doctor," he shook him slightly.
Roza's eyelids flickered open for a moment before settling peacefully shut once again. Forte shook himself, causing his wig to slide off his smooth, bald head and into his lap. "Wh-what? Kiheiji? What is it?"
"Come by and see Lelia," the merchant urged. He was clearly quite agitated, but was struggling to keep his emotions under control. "I'm worried about her."
Forte slapped his wig back on his head with no regard for whether or not it was properly aligned (the ponytail was in the back- that was good enough) and took off alongside the concerned husband. He picked up his bag off a shelf as he passed by where he had left it. Kiheiji, even in his worry, marveled at how precise the physician could be in the midst of his disorganization.
Lelia was struggling when the returned to her side. Moments like this were the times Forte felt his limitations most strongly. Only Lelia could lead herself over that bridge either into the land of life or the land of death. He had given her medicine to soothe her fever and seen that the meals here had a good balance of nourishing and comforting qualities, but this Ghausu Fever- this was a disease he could not fight. He was devoting his life to an impossibility. Which ultimately meant he was devoting his life to watching people die. But how could he tell that to Kiheiji?
He picked up Lelia's limp wrist and felt her pulse. Her face was flushed and her breathing erratic.
"She looked so much better earlier," Kiheiji protested against fate. "Isn't there something I can do?"
Forte took the trembling husband's hand and placed Lelia's hand across it. This was far too difficult a thing to put in words. He would have to rely on Sasarai for that. Leave the living to doctors and the dead to priest.
Dr. Ismeiro awoke Sasarai sometime n the still gray hours before dawn. "Get up. You need to talk to Kiheiji."
"Wh-has something happened?" he pushed himself up, groggily casting his eyes into the dark in search of the man in question.
"He's not here. It's his wife."
Sasarai moved slowly in his half-wakened state, sliding out from under the sheet and brushing his mussed hair out of his face. Forte hurried him gently along, wrapping his white nalen, a priest's head scarf, around his shoulders like he was dressing a doll.
While the bishop might've sleepwalked his way through these minimal preparations, he came awake sharply and suddenly upon being confronted with Kiheiji's strained and sorrowed face. This was no pre-light delusion. This was life at its most gut-wrenchingly cruel. A personal tragedy. And, if all Harmonian were truly children of the state, a national tragedy as well.
Forte was glad to hear Sasarai speak. Just the way he breathed, "Kiheiji," was full and weighted and laden with meaning. He would weave the magic of words and prayer into a scaffolding to support the precariously tilting structure of Kiheiji's heart. If he could not, they would lose a very valuable ally in their crusade.
Day/Theme: Oct. 13, 2009 "This world of dew/ is only a world of dew-/ and yet... oh and yet..."
Series: Suikoden III
Character/Pairing: Kiheiji, Lelia, Forte, Sasarai
Rating: PG
"I think you're looking better, Lelia," Stephen remarked as he ducked into the room. She had been sitting up more and had finished her meal of soup and bread. She still have blotches on her skin, but they were fading away. Earlier that day she had even managed to read a story to Sina and Tylo, who were thrilled over the first extended contact with their mother in days.
"I still don't feel quite myself," she admitted, looking down at her pale and trembling hands.
"I'm sure that will come soon enough," he tried to be optimistic as he scooped up her dishes to art off to the sink.
Lelia looked around the quiet room once he left and sighed. She wished she could share his hopeful outlook, but all around her she felt the clammy embrace of death closing in. Even the flowers Mareesa had brought in to lighten the place up were drooping. It seemed as if merely spending a day in the sickroom had sapped them of all their strength. She would've liked to out and get some fresh air, but she was still so weak. "Maybe tomorrow," she told herself. "Definitely tomorrow," she decided. Even if it was hard, she would make the effort and ask Kiheiji to help her.
Around midnight, Lelia took a turn for the worse. Forte was dozing at the bedside of a young girl, Roza, who was unable to sleep due to the anxieties her illness aroused in her. He had thought of dosing her with a sleeping potion, but was reluctant to give anything so strong to such a small girl. Fortunately, she was soothed by his presence, so he had settled down in a chair beside her to keep her company as long as none of the other patients needed him.
Kiheiji walked quietly but quickly through the darkened house. "Doctor," he reached out to touch Forte's shoulder. "Doctor," he shook him slightly.
Roza's eyelids flickered open for a moment before settling peacefully shut once again. Forte shook himself, causing his wig to slide off his smooth, bald head and into his lap. "Wh-what? Kiheiji? What is it?"
"Come by and see Lelia," the merchant urged. He was clearly quite agitated, but was struggling to keep his emotions under control. "I'm worried about her."
Forte slapped his wig back on his head with no regard for whether or not it was properly aligned (the ponytail was in the back- that was good enough) and took off alongside the concerned husband. He picked up his bag off a shelf as he passed by where he had left it. Kiheiji, even in his worry, marveled at how precise the physician could be in the midst of his disorganization.
Lelia was struggling when the returned to her side. Moments like this were the times Forte felt his limitations most strongly. Only Lelia could lead herself over that bridge either into the land of life or the land of death. He had given her medicine to soothe her fever and seen that the meals here had a good balance of nourishing and comforting qualities, but this Ghausu Fever- this was a disease he could not fight. He was devoting his life to an impossibility. Which ultimately meant he was devoting his life to watching people die. But how could he tell that to Kiheiji?
He picked up Lelia's limp wrist and felt her pulse. Her face was flushed and her breathing erratic.
"She looked so much better earlier," Kiheiji protested against fate. "Isn't there something I can do?"
Forte took the trembling husband's hand and placed Lelia's hand across it. This was far too difficult a thing to put in words. He would have to rely on Sasarai for that. Leave the living to doctors and the dead to priest.
Dr. Ismeiro awoke Sasarai sometime n the still gray hours before dawn. "Get up. You need to talk to Kiheiji."
"Wh-has something happened?" he pushed himself up, groggily casting his eyes into the dark in search of the man in question.
"He's not here. It's his wife."
Sasarai moved slowly in his half-wakened state, sliding out from under the sheet and brushing his mussed hair out of his face. Forte hurried him gently along, wrapping his white nalen, a priest's head scarf, around his shoulders like he was dressing a doll.
While the bishop might've sleepwalked his way through these minimal preparations, he came awake sharply and suddenly upon being confronted with Kiheiji's strained and sorrowed face. This was no pre-light delusion. This was life at its most gut-wrenchingly cruel. A personal tragedy. And, if all Harmonian were truly children of the state, a national tragedy as well.
Forte was glad to hear Sasarai speak. Just the way he breathed, "Kiheiji," was full and weighted and laden with meaning. He would weave the magic of words and prayer into a scaffolding to support the precariously tilting structure of Kiheiji's heart. If he could not, they would lose a very valuable ally in their crusade.