08-07-2019, 01:06 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby winced at the introduction of light into his dark home, wincing against the immediate pain it brought him. His feverish brain has trouble stringing a coherent thought together, and his second reaction was to hiss in the direction of the light, all too quiet and raspy to be at all threatening. A cold breeze swept in from the open door, and Selby nestled deeper into the blankets, teeth chattering.
And then voices. The medic opened an eye towards the figure, and instant shame filled him. Shame so potent that it almost brought on another wave of sick, but he forced down the stinging bile before it could rise. How could he have let his home get to such a state? It was disgusting, and Selby decided that this meant he was disgusting as well. He couldn’t understand the words being said to him, they cut into his brain and made it throb and he couldn’t focus. Bad host, he admonished himself, defaulting to his normal manners and deciding to offer his guests some tea.
"Sorry," he rasped, attempting to free himself from his nest of blankets so he could get up. The sudden jostling caused him to become lightheaded, and he immediately fell off his bed and narrowly avoided a puddle of mud and sick.
"Would any- would anyone like some tea?" he chattered through his spasms of chills, trying to pick himself up off the ground. His stomach ached, his head throbbed, his throat stung, and he found that he couldn’t muster the energy required to get up. He just needed to get to his table; there was a kettle over there. Instead of trying again to get off the ground, he began to crawl to the other side of the main room to where his table was. He’d been doing well until he felt something cold and wet cling to the fur of his leg, and giving it a quick sniff, determined that it was old sick.
Fresh shame filled him, and this time he couldn’t force down the rising bile that accompanied it and was sick again. It clung to the fur on his chest and legs, and he felt even more ashamed of himself. He coughed and wheezed, trying to get the taste out of his mouth, but it wouldn’t leave. Selby grew more and more frustrated with himself, felt his throat tighten and his eyes water. "'m sorry," he mumbled, trying to cry but not being able to. "Bad host right now. Y'shoul' come back later," he said tightly, feeling the chills rack his body once more. "Sorry," he repeated again, chattering hard and wanting nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole. He repeated his apologies again and again, chattering through them from his place on his cold dirt floor.
And then voices. The medic opened an eye towards the figure, and instant shame filled him. Shame so potent that it almost brought on another wave of sick, but he forced down the stinging bile before it could rise. How could he have let his home get to such a state? It was disgusting, and Selby decided that this meant he was disgusting as well. He couldn’t understand the words being said to him, they cut into his brain and made it throb and he couldn’t focus. Bad host, he admonished himself, defaulting to his normal manners and deciding to offer his guests some tea.
"Sorry," he rasped, attempting to free himself from his nest of blankets so he could get up. The sudden jostling caused him to become lightheaded, and he immediately fell off his bed and narrowly avoided a puddle of mud and sick.
"Would any- would anyone like some tea?" he chattered through his spasms of chills, trying to pick himself up off the ground. His stomach ached, his head throbbed, his throat stung, and he found that he couldn’t muster the energy required to get up. He just needed to get to his table; there was a kettle over there. Instead of trying again to get off the ground, he began to crawl to the other side of the main room to where his table was. He’d been doing well until he felt something cold and wet cling to the fur of his leg, and giving it a quick sniff, determined that it was old sick.
Fresh shame filled him, and this time he couldn’t force down the rising bile that accompanied it and was sick again. It clung to the fur on his chest and legs, and he felt even more ashamed of himself. He coughed and wheezed, trying to get the taste out of his mouth, but it wouldn’t leave. Selby grew more and more frustrated with himself, felt his throat tighten and his eyes water. "'m sorry," he mumbled, trying to cry but not being able to. "Bad host right now. Y'shoul' come back later," he said tightly, feeling the chills rack his body once more. "Sorry," he repeated again, chattering hard and wanting nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole. He repeated his apologies again and again, chattering through them from his place on his cold dirt floor.