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Always one for description, she sat brooding, looking for just the right structure of letters to fit with such a circumstance. There were few words she'd use to describe herself in this moment, but cool was not one of them. Neither was chill, or nippy, or cold. No, if she were to grace this circumstance with a proper adjectival definition, it would be aptly described as Freezing Ice Hell of Frigid Torment and Arctic Glacier Pain.
Quicker than lightning, but lacking the grace usually attributed to her, she grabbed four tissues and shoved them at her face just in time to catch a quick succession of sneezed that left her head pounding with pressure and her nose stuffed to the deepest cavity. She wiped her nose with a groan and deposited the snot covered sheets into the plastic bag hanging from a nail in the wall next to her bed. A chill shot through her spine and she buried herself deeper into her cocoon of clothes, and sheets, and one blanket. Well, she was sitting, at least. Her hands felt clammy as she checked her computer, moved off the desk and closer to her mattress for her comfort. Those movie torrents were going slow as balls and she hated to think she'd have to youtube the videos to see them. No one should be subjected to Youtube quality Princess Bride. That was just torture.
She swallowed and nearly gagged at the feel of drainage in her throat, her whining coming out fogged to her own ears and a tired sigh leaving her lips. She reached for her phone out of boredom.
To: Bro
baby dove to mama bird
baby dove to mama bird
come in mama bird
To: Bro
baby dove is filled with blugh and needs some tlc
mama bird
bro
bro
brobrobrobro
To: Bro
bro im dying
She sent them all in quick succession with barely a minute between each before going back to staring at the torrent screen. She'd already looked through her anime bookmarks, but the only ones she wanted to watch would only make her cry and fuck that noise, her head was already thick, she didn't need to be able to not breathe through her nose forever. She'd watch something cutesy, but she wanted to see some action too... something that would take her mind off of her troubles, something action oriented. She'd been unconsciously comparing her romantic life to those of the shoujo heroines she'd been watching recently, and that was not only embarrassing, but not something she could handle at this specific point in time.
She checked her phone after ten minutes of nothing but mental whining, brooding, and torrents slowing down, and saw that Bro hadn't replied yet. What the fuck, it was only about four, why hadn't he answered yet? Her jaw tightened in righteous indignation as her fingers clacked away through the numbness.
To: Bro
oh i see how it is
baby sisters dying half way across the world and her only family doesnt care to see to it she gets a proper funeral
or at least check in to see if shes ok and not choking on throat snot or something equally as disgusting
well fuck you too
It was sent, done, and she was reading over it, but she sniffled, and started to cry because what the fuck Dove this is Bro we're talking about.
To: Bro
i take it back bro i knoe your working im sorry dont hate me im just sickand cant coolkid dont get pissy and nottalk to me for a day i cantdo that right now
To: Bro
bro
To: Bro
bro?
To: Bro
...
bro i love you
im soryy
She reread her sent texts and groaned, letting her head fall back onto the wall behind her because well now, didn't she sound like a fucking mess; like some desperate little child crying out for some attention. She grimaced because she hated this, and look at all those typos, really? She threw her phone across the room and snuggled back into her cocoon, hiding inside in hopes it would suffocate her. Or at least warm her up, her hands and feet were freezing.
This lasted roughly four minutes before her stomach growled again and she nearly screamed into her pillow. Nearly, because her mouth was gross and she didn't want to sleep on something she'd breathed on, that could quite possibly give her pneumonia, or aids, or something. Instead, she stood, wobbled a bit, and grabbed the comforter, wrapping it around herself like she was an eskimo and holding it right over her breastbone. She grabbed her phone and sprayed down her location of sick with some lemon scented disinfectant before leaving her hell hole into the even colder hallway.
"Fuck," she breathed as she stepped out onto the kitchen's glacier floor-- oh, excuse me, I mean the tile. Her teeth were already chattering, but she trekked on like a true Strider, until she'd bypassed both the fridge and freezer and came to the cabinet. It was chock full of soup, but they were all cream based, nothing chicken, and she needed chicken right now. She did, however, spot the ramen, and after a quick debate, grabbed one. It was cup, but that was all this dump stocked, and it sounded the most appetizing out of anything else in the cupboard.
She would later gag over the fact that she'd actually thought that-- later when she wasn't a walking sick.
She stared at the cup for a while, trying to remember how to make it through the haze of her sickness. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
To: Bro
how does the dying microwavable ramen
She wasn't expecting a response, but she sent it anyway. He was probably at work or something. Instead she stared at it again for a couple of minutes, before just tossing it into the microwave and pressing some buttons. It started moving, and she began to lazily root around the cupboard for some chicken bullion cubes or something. She only spaced out about four times, before a loud bang sounded from behind her, making her jump, slip on the comforter, and fall on her ass. She moaned at the pain, reaching down to massage her tailbone. The sound had come from the microwave-- well, it was more than that, the sound had actually been the microwave. The door was sort of moving on it's own, and when she finally managed to get up and take a gander inside, she thought she'd better text it.
To: Bro
let me rephrase
how does the dying microwavable ramen when all they have is cup ramen and exploded styrofoam
She stared at it for a minute or four, realized she'd forgotten the water, and groaned. She gathered the cooled pieces of disaster, tossed them in the trash, and headed back upstairs to her room. The gods were crystal in their message: No food for Dove she has angered us by thinking about the John boy and must be punished or something else as ridiculous (she didn't think about John, not at all, nope). She replied by collapsing into her bed, shivering at the cold until it disappeared, sending said gods two finely executed finger salutes, and drifting in and out of sleep until unconsciousness claimed her.
Seconds after she'd become unreachable by all earthy, spiritual, and natural forces, her computer pinged signaling that the torrent had finished; her movie was ready to be watched.
Quicker than lightning, but lacking the grace usually attributed to her, she grabbed four tissues and shoved them at her face just in time to catch a quick succession of sneezed that left her head pounding with pressure and her nose stuffed to the deepest cavity. She wiped her nose with a groan and deposited the snot covered sheets into the plastic bag hanging from a nail in the wall next to her bed. A chill shot through her spine and she buried herself deeper into her cocoon of clothes, and sheets, and one blanket. Well, she was sitting, at least. Her hands felt clammy as she checked her computer, moved off the desk and closer to her mattress for her comfort. Those movie torrents were going slow as balls and she hated to think she'd have to youtube the videos to see them. No one should be subjected to Youtube quality Princess Bride. That was just torture.
She swallowed and nearly gagged at the feel of drainage in her throat, her whining coming out fogged to her own ears and a tired sigh leaving her lips. She reached for her phone out of boredom.
To: Bro
baby dove to mama bird
baby dove to mama bird
come in mama bird
To: Bro
baby dove is filled with blugh and needs some tlc
mama bird
bro
bro
brobrobrobro
To: Bro
bro im dying
She sent them all in quick succession with barely a minute between each before going back to staring at the torrent screen. She'd already looked through her anime bookmarks, but the only ones she wanted to watch would only make her cry and fuck that noise, her head was already thick, she didn't need to be able to not breathe through her nose forever. She'd watch something cutesy, but she wanted to see some action too... something that would take her mind off of her troubles, something action oriented. She'd been unconsciously comparing her romantic life to those of the shoujo heroines she'd been watching recently, and that was not only embarrassing, but not something she could handle at this specific point in time.
She checked her phone after ten minutes of nothing but mental whining, brooding, and torrents slowing down, and saw that Bro hadn't replied yet. What the fuck, it was only about four, why hadn't he answered yet? Her jaw tightened in righteous indignation as her fingers clacked away through the numbness.
To: Bro
oh i see how it is
baby sisters dying half way across the world and her only family doesnt care to see to it she gets a proper funeral
or at least check in to see if shes ok and not choking on throat snot or something equally as disgusting
well fuck you too
It was sent, done, and she was reading over it, but she sniffled, and started to cry because what the fuck Dove this is Bro we're talking about.
To: Bro
i take it back bro i knoe your working im sorry dont hate me im just sickand cant coolkid dont get pissy and nottalk to me for a day i cantdo that right now
To: Bro
bro
To: Bro
bro?
To: Bro
...
bro i love you
im soryy
She reread her sent texts and groaned, letting her head fall back onto the wall behind her because well now, didn't she sound like a fucking mess; like some desperate little child crying out for some attention. She grimaced because she hated this, and look at all those typos, really? She threw her phone across the room and snuggled back into her cocoon, hiding inside in hopes it would suffocate her. Or at least warm her up, her hands and feet were freezing.
This lasted roughly four minutes before her stomach growled again and she nearly screamed into her pillow. Nearly, because her mouth was gross and she didn't want to sleep on something she'd breathed on, that could quite possibly give her pneumonia, or aids, or something. Instead, she stood, wobbled a bit, and grabbed the comforter, wrapping it around herself like she was an eskimo and holding it right over her breastbone. She grabbed her phone and sprayed down her location of sick with some lemon scented disinfectant before leaving her hell hole into the even colder hallway.
"Fuck," she breathed as she stepped out onto the kitchen's glacier floor-- oh, excuse me, I mean the tile. Her teeth were already chattering, but she trekked on like a true Strider, until she'd bypassed both the fridge and freezer and came to the cabinet. It was chock full of soup, but they were all cream based, nothing chicken, and she needed chicken right now. She did, however, spot the ramen, and after a quick debate, grabbed one. It was cup, but that was all this dump stocked, and it sounded the most appetizing out of anything else in the cupboard.
She would later gag over the fact that she'd actually thought that-- later when she wasn't a walking sick.
She stared at the cup for a while, trying to remember how to make it through the haze of her sickness. This wasn't getting her anywhere.
To: Bro
how does the dying microwavable ramen
She wasn't expecting a response, but she sent it anyway. He was probably at work or something. Instead she stared at it again for a couple of minutes, before just tossing it into the microwave and pressing some buttons. It started moving, and she began to lazily root around the cupboard for some chicken bullion cubes or something. She only spaced out about four times, before a loud bang sounded from behind her, making her jump, slip on the comforter, and fall on her ass. She moaned at the pain, reaching down to massage her tailbone. The sound had come from the microwave-- well, it was more than that, the sound had actually been the microwave. The door was sort of moving on it's own, and when she finally managed to get up and take a gander inside, she thought she'd better text it.
To: Bro
let me rephrase
how does the dying microwavable ramen when all they have is cup ramen and exploded styrofoam
She stared at it for a minute or four, realized she'd forgotten the water, and groaned. She gathered the cooled pieces of disaster, tossed them in the trash, and headed back upstairs to her room. The gods were crystal in their message: No food for Dove she has angered us by thinking about the John boy and must be punished or something else as ridiculous (she didn't think about John, not at all, nope). She replied by collapsing into her bed, shivering at the cold until it disappeared, sending said gods two finely executed finger salutes, and drifting in and out of sleep until unconsciousness claimed her.
Seconds after she'd become unreachable by all earthy, spiritual, and natural forces, her computer pinged signaling that the torrent had finished; her movie was ready to be watched.
