Post by Arabella Hart on Nov 23, 2011 16:16:58 GMT -5
I 'V E. B E E N. C O L L E C T I N G. Y O U R. W O R D S.
[/color][/font]L I K E. P R A Y E R S. I N. M Y. P O C K E T S.[/color][/font]
Arabella was feeling very much under the weather. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately and combined with overworking herself cooking she was pretty much bedridden. Today nothing would be cooked from her hands and after a few people had inquired as to why breakfast wasn’t made but she just couldn’t. There was no energy within her to get across her room let alone stand up at the stove to cook two meals today. Once she decided to stay in her pajamas, she had stayed curled under the blankets. Luckily she had bought a new quilt back on Persephone because she was freezing. Arabella’s thickest sweater was pulled on her and socks on her feet while she laid shivering under the covers. All she could muster down today was a few pieces of bread and some water. She knew she should try getting more down but that wouldn’t be possible.
Every once in awhile she heard people walking outside the dorms. When the fever got to be too much, she started imagining she was back on Londinium. With each passing step she expected Bettie to come in and give her some chicken and vegetable soup then sing to her. A smile formed on her face as she imagined the notes the woman would sing to her. Her grandmother never liked that, said Bettie shouldn’t be so close to Arabella. But the young girl still sought out the only woman who showed her any real affection. As she drifted in and out of sleep she remembered one such time when Arabella had been in the kitchen cooking with Bettie and the cook had given the little girl a hug. Her grandmother came in, screaming her head off about how that she wasn’t family so she needed to just do her job and move along. The young blond had begun to cry and actually fought with the older woman. Lailyn hadn’t been happy and gotten in her face to yell. As the sleeping woman remembered this she began to toss in her bed and whimper. That wasn’t a happy memory; especially with the hard slap across her face. She had been vulnerable those years and crying was something she couldn’t control.
Like the fever dream she was currently experiencing.
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