neutral_omens | (no subject)

Date: July 6, 2000
Status: Public
Setting: Manor gardens, Front desk
Summary: Delirium arrives.

If someone had asked Delirium why she was where she was, presently sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of Lower Tadfield Manor, she would have no answer for them really, except that it felt rather like she should be there.

And anyway she was entertained.

The impressive wreckage of a plane a dozen or so feet away held her attention for good five minutes or so before she climbed to her feet and left it a habitat to a number of small noisy multicolored frogs.

To the human eye, she appeared to be a girl not more than fourteen years old, wild purpley pink hair, shaved on one side of her head, dressed in tattered badly matched clothing.

They would boggle at her for a moment or two, wondering absently if that streak of orange hair was there just a moment ago, and then just as quickly move along, dismissing her with relief, as a runaway or one of those eccentric rocker kids.

Not-so-human eyes would deal slightly better with her rapidly changing appearance. At least in theory.

The personification matter-of-factly ignored the front door and crawled in through an open window that may or may not have been there before. One never knew with her.

She landed, a rainbowed tangle of limbs, beside the front desk with a soft thud and blinked her mismatched eyes at her surroundings.

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Once again it took a while for the words to sink in.

"Key?" Loki mumbled. "Pocket." And then: "Dizzy. Bed?"

"Working on it. Just hang in there a few more minutes," John told him enouragingly. He had to stop and set Loki on his feet for a few moments, supporting him with one arm while he rummaged his pockets with the other and finally turned up the room key (and, he was interested to note, not a great deal else; nothing that struck him as suspicious, certainly. Maybe Loki wasn't the klepto after all.)

"209. Good show, it's just 'round the corner. Off we go..." Thankful he wouldn't have to tackle another flight of stairs, John picked the god up again and walked the short distance to the suite, where he awkwardly unlocked and opened the door and entered, depositing Loki on the bed.

After automatically tugging off his friend's muddy shoes and setting them aside, he tucked the covers around him securely. They weren't all that heavy, so he dug a spare blanket out of the room's wardrobe and added that as well.

Still concerned, he sat on the edge of the bed and patted Loki's shoulder, hoping he hadn't already passed out. "Oi. Stay with me a minute, man. D'you have meds you need to take? Or a doctor who needs to know?" The last thing he wanted was to leave the poor sod alone if this constituted a full-blown medical emergency, but he had no way of telling for sure.

Ah, Loki loved Odin's bed, but it had never before felt this welcome. He snuggled in and sighed happily. Now all he wanted was sleep. He probably would be fine when he woke up he told himself. He'd had similar bouts of feverishness before, after all, just never one that came on this suddenly.

John's question rang the alarm bells in his head, though.

"I'm fine." he assured the human. "Probably just flu. I react rather badly to fever. Thanks for the help, though. I owe you."

That was almost coherent, he thought feeling quite proud of himself. It had to mean that he wasn't as badly off as he was feeling.

John nodded, not believing a word of it, but this wasn't the time to push the matter (not that he really had a right to anyway.) "All right. I'll leave some water on the nightstand in case you need it. Ring me up if you need anything else, yeah? Whoever's at switchboard will put you through."

Loki smiled at John. That was really nice of the human. Odin never got him any water when he was sick*.

"Thanks, you're a real friend. Don't worry about me, though. I'll be fine and Odin should be back in a few hours. Freki will watch me until then."

Indeed the still pink wolf was standing beside the bed like a guard.

*Of course he'd never let on that he'd want any. Unlike John Odin probably didn't know what it was like to be sick.

John shrugged awkwardly, slightly embarrassed. It wasn't so much any innate tendency to be kind or considerate that was motivating him right now; just a very vivid memory of what it felt like to be sick, really sick, and to have nobody around who gave a damn. "Yeah, no problem. I'll catch you around then."

He left the key and a glass of water on the nightstand, and paused on his way to the door to cautiously pat Freki on the head, murmuring, "Good lad, you'll keep an eye on him, yeah?" Then, with a final glance back at Loki, he exited quietly, shutting the door behind him.

It was good to have a friend like John. And Freki, too, of course. Loki felt quite lucky to have them both.

Loki sighed happily and closed his eyes. He was asleep a moment later.