milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Cywyllog had stayed the night again, and even managed a small walk outside, but it's time to go home. She finishes her tea, and then heads to the door.

Unfortunately, she doesn't get very far, before a wave of nausea hits, and her knees buckle underneath her. Cywyllog reaches out for something, anything, to balance herself - a chair, a wall, a patron - but there's nothing there.

She hits the floor hard and then just sits there, head in her hands, and waits for it to pass.

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"Cywyllog? Are you hurt?"

Cywyllog blinks a few times, trying to focus.

"Amy? No... no. I am all right. I just... need a moment."

Amy frowns. "Are you sure? Can I get you anything? Tea? Water? Some place more comfortable to sit?"

"I..." She takes a few slow, deep breaths. "In a minute, perhaps. It will pass soon, it always does."

"This happens regularly?" asks Amy.

"A few times lately." Cywyllog finally raises her head a little. "See? It is lessening already."

"I suppose," says Amy, a little skeptically.

"Would you like help getting to a chair?"

[ooc: Sorry for the delay, the computer went temporarily insane, but it's better now.]

She nods slowly. "Yes, that might be a good idea. I am a bit in the way here."

"Well, and the floor is hardly the most comfortable place to sit. Shall we?"

She offers Cywyllog her hand, to help her up.

"Thank you." She takes Amy's hand and slowly stands, still a bit shaky, but seems steady enough to walk. "I think I am going to feel foolish in a moment."

"I can't see why you should," says Amy.

She keeps hold of Cywyllog's hand, in case Cywyllog needs to lean on her as they walk toward the nearest comfortable chair.

She tries not to lean too much, though is glad of the help. Upon reaching the chair, she sinks into it and presses a hand to her forehead.

"There are just so many people around. It is embarassing."

Amy smiles reassuringly. "It's Milliways. I doubt your fall will be the most remarkable thing to happen here tonight. No one noticed as much as you think they did.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Something stronger?"

"Of course, you are right." She forces a small smile. "Water, please. I think anything else would be unwise."

Amy nods. "I'll be right back then," says Amy, slipping away just long enough to get a glass of cool, but not too cold, water.

"Is there anyone I should get for you? A doctor?"

Cywyllog accepts the water gratefully and takes a small sip.

"No, no one. I will just sit here for a bit and then return home."

"I'll stay, if you like. Till you're ready to go. We can talk about things that don't especially matter. Like . . . embroidery patterns, and . . . and hair combs."

That makes her smile slightly.

"I would not wish to keep you, Amy. I am certain you have more pressing things to do."

"Not especially," says Amy. "I've finished everything I needed to do today, and came to catch up with friends. I'm happy to stay, if you'd like the company."

And she won't be offended if Cywyllog doesn't.

"I would like that." She says softly.

"Tell me what you have been up to? We have not spoken in some time."

"I've been busy," says Amy, "by Milliways terms. I spend a great deal of time in the stables, working with my horse, and I've a job in the House of Arch, looking after Ingress and Gavroche in the afternoons, and giving Ingress princess lessons, which are mostly dressing up and dancing. She's having a ball, for her birthday, in a little over a week, you see.

"You should come. To the ball, I mean. If you're here and you'd like to."

It's light and breezy and cheery -- a slightly edited version of Amy's life these days.

"And how are you?"

"That all sounds lovely." Cywyllog smiles wistfully. "A ball is like a party, I imagine?"

"Myself, well, I have been fighting off... whatever this is for a few weeks now, but otherwise things are as usual. Looking after the boys."

"Very much like a party. With dancing. I do hope you'll be able to come.

"And how are your boys, Cywyllog?"

"They are very well. Getting bigger by the day and happy for it to be spring so they can go outside and play." She smiles.

Lust crouches next to her. "Lady Cywyllog? Are you all right?"

After a few deep breaths, she nods slowly.

"I will be... just in a moment. It will pass."

"What happened?"

"It just seemed to come out of nowhere." She sighs softly, still shaking a little. "I think perhaps I got up too quickly."

"I think perhaps you need to visit the infirmary," she counters firmly.

"I went!" Cywyllog offers in weak protest. "I spoke to one of the doctors here. He agreed I should follow the advice of the midwife at home."

"Which was?"

"To rest as much as possible and to take the herbs she gave me to settle my stomach and ease my headaches."

"Did the doctor here tell you what was wrong?" She is coming to distrust the doctors ...

"Well, we just spoke." She says hesitantly. "I told him how I was feeling and he said that if it got worse to go back."

She gives her friend a look that suggests this qualifies as 'worse.'

"Does he know about this faintness?"

To which Cywyllog would argue that this is actually normal. Lately, anyway.

"It just happened, but it will subside, like it has before." She explains. "I am feeling a little better already."

"Will you at least let me request he draws a blood sample to see what that might show?"

Her eyes widen. "A blood sample?"

"It hurts like a prick of a pin, since that's almost what they use to get it out."

"And what good would that do?" She asks warily.

"By looking at it closely, they can tell many times what is wrong with the person the blood comes from."

"And if they cannot?"

"Then you will have two options: Take no further testing and merely have suffered a pinprick, or to allow them to take other samples - usually from your bowels."

She realized halfway through that explanation, she was about to talk with a human about bodily functions, a delicate subject for most of them, even amongst close friends. So she changed her terminology.

There's a rather long pause.

"Or I could just go home and rest."

There is a pause.

"You risk death if it is something serious." She looks away.

Cywyllog sighs and runs a hand over her forehead.

"I will think about it."

"Thank you," she murmurs quietly. "Would you like a hand up to the nearest chair?"

"Please." She nods.

She stands first and offers her hand down to Cywyllog, giving her friend the option to take as little help as she needs. If more help is needed Lust will gladly give however much she is asked.

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