One Little Sparrow for the Nest {March 3010} [Runa]
Mar 5, 2018 20:03:29 GMT -5
Post by Ceolmund on Mar 5, 2018 20:03:29 GMT -5
Light. Too much light. Warmth. Too much warmth. Nausea and splitting pain.
Had he been wounded in battle? No. No. This was the day they were supposed to fetch Paega to their home. Their daughter. Their Little Sparrow. They had the celebration the night before.
“Eurghghhhwhaag,” Ceolmund moaned aloud. His head was aching. He tried to push the covers off, but the covers were breathing, moving skin. He tried to open a single eye, but it was so bright, and all he could see was golden hair unfurled across his chest.
“Run... Runa, you're stuck,” he muttered. He would not have minded had he not fell so... foul. He was trying to gently slide her off, as he did some mornings. Other mornings, if he found her atop him, he would simply hold her there until she wiggled free on her own. Now though, he needed to get up. He needed to block the light. He possibly needed her bucket. He was sweating, overheated.
“Sorry,” he muttered to her. “I need to, I need...” He tried to slide out from beneath, completely forgetting the black scarf and the way he had tied them together the night previous. He could not bring to mind much of the preceding night beyond the time Theodred had left them, though having overindulged in the past and woken up in similar states of pain, he knew the reason for his illness was quite basic.
He could not comprehend exactly what was going on for th brightness and pain in his eyes, and in a slight panic, Ceolmund rolled over... and over. Right over the edge of the bed.
“Aiiiigh!” he cried out, flailing his arms to try and grab at the blankets, but he was top heavy, in a way that he was usually so, and the extra weight pulled him down. It was only when he crashed down upon the floor – softly – that he realized what he had done. His eyes flew open and he saw Runa's frayed face beneath him.
“Oh, oh no,” he moaned, rolling once more, so he as at least laying on his side and no longer crushing her. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly. “Oh gods, the baby?” He could not seem to get far enough away from the woman to check that she was well and it was then that his hand brushed against the scarf tying them together.
“What in Eorl's name?”
Had he been wounded in battle? No. No. This was the day they were supposed to fetch Paega to their home. Their daughter. Their Little Sparrow. They had the celebration the night before.
“Eurghghhhwhaag,” Ceolmund moaned aloud. His head was aching. He tried to push the covers off, but the covers were breathing, moving skin. He tried to open a single eye, but it was so bright, and all he could see was golden hair unfurled across his chest.
“Run... Runa, you're stuck,” he muttered. He would not have minded had he not fell so... foul. He was trying to gently slide her off, as he did some mornings. Other mornings, if he found her atop him, he would simply hold her there until she wiggled free on her own. Now though, he needed to get up. He needed to block the light. He possibly needed her bucket. He was sweating, overheated.
“Sorry,” he muttered to her. “I need to, I need...” He tried to slide out from beneath, completely forgetting the black scarf and the way he had tied them together the night previous. He could not bring to mind much of the preceding night beyond the time Theodred had left them, though having overindulged in the past and woken up in similar states of pain, he knew the reason for his illness was quite basic.
He could not comprehend exactly what was going on for th brightness and pain in his eyes, and in a slight panic, Ceolmund rolled over... and over. Right over the edge of the bed.
“Aiiiigh!” he cried out, flailing his arms to try and grab at the blankets, but he was top heavy, in a way that he was usually so, and the extra weight pulled him down. It was only when he crashed down upon the floor – softly – that he realized what he had done. His eyes flew open and he saw Runa's frayed face beneath him.
“Oh, oh no,” he moaned, rolling once more, so he as at least laying on his side and no longer crushing her. “Are you all right?” he asked quickly. “Oh gods, the baby?” He could not seem to get far enough away from the woman to check that she was well and it was then that his hand brushed against the scarf tying them together.
“What in Eorl's name?”