Spring, the season of blooming flowers and developing leaves on tree branches with aid of warm sunshine blanketing the Gray Garden in beautiful rays of light. There was a lot of foliage in the region, so nature lovers were eager to explore the natural, floral world around them. The clear blue sky was so pretty today without any clouds absorbing up that sunshine due to the albedo effect which was what caused the reflection of sunlight back to the sun. Everybody was outside today, a Saturday which was enjoyed by adults and kids alike as they got together for various activities. As it was the start of the weekend, angels and demons alike were having fun since everybody outside loved the sun and its light, but for one individual in particular that light was actually blinding. Each house had all the blinds open with the windows open as well, yet a solitary home was blocked up by blinds and closed windows, shut off away from the world with a quarantine sign on the door.
It was a quaint little two-story home painted blue with a chain-link fence on the yard along with a flower garden on the left side of the lawn. This house was just like all the others, a relatively normal abode except for the presence of that lone quarantine sign hanging on the front door so that it could deter visitors away from the location, the reason being that the owner was gravely ill with a terrible sickness. If this homeowner wasn't so sick, she could be enjoying the day as well. Sadly she wasn't because the illness that afflicted her kept the poor lady in pain.
Lying in bed with all the lights in her house off and the radio on her nightstand off as well in addition to the alarm clock, the home's occupant moaned in pain as she turned over. Locks from her curly, white hair pooled around the upper half off her body while the left side of her head rested upon the pillows. Clad in a plain, green nightgown flowing down to her ankles, the lady sniffed in disgust and retrieved a tissue from the tissue box by the alarm clock to wipe her eyes of tears. She wasn't crying because this was due to the illness she had, but even she had admit it was upsetting when one was very sick on a day like today. Depositing the tissue within the trashcan filled to the brim with other tissues and a lot of vomit, the gryphon sighed in exhaustion and blinked heavily.
Greif was miserable, too miserable. She disliked her circumstances greatly, but knew there wasn't anything she could do about it because she had a bad stomach flu her body couldn't protect her from. It was ironic, really, how somebody strong like her could get such a disease. She served in the military for the angels back in the war and had built up an endurance against plenty of very bad ailments then. Some of them she was even immune to now, but others still required medicine and vaccines to prevent her from getting sick. The dark humor behind this medical protection was that even she could not escape a serious disease like the flu. Unfortunately for her, Greif could not even take flu vaccines without feeling sick because of the chemicals in them. She could handle the other vaccines and medication for other ailments just fine, but it was always the flu vaccines which left her body in a crippled condition that was even worse than the stomach flu she suffered under.
Oh well, it wasn't too bad in that regard. At least she didn't have to see a healer within the castle for negative side effects of flu vaccines along with the direct harm they dealt to her. Though Grief still wasn't happy with it, she supposed it was better to just accept the fact she had to fight a flu-like disease every so often. Either way she lost, but thankfully one loss was manageable to deal with than the other which could've potentially killed her. Yes, she was that weak to flu vaccines.
It was embarrassing, but what could she do other than admit defeat against her opponent?
Greif sighed again, moaning in pain as she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, a common thing she did while under the influence of some kind of flu. If she could count how long she spent looking at all those boring tiles up there by adding how many times she had the flu along with each day she had it and every hour wasted on the tiles, she'd probably cover over a month. It was extremely boring like watching grass grow, paint dry, or snails race, but Greif had nothing to do whilst lying in bed sick with a stomach flu. Sometimes she would reach her arm up slightly to count the lines in each tile and then multiply the number of tiles; however, she couldn't focus that well because her blurry vision hurt her eyes. Still, it was better than the intense boredom Greif was subjected to during her sickly rest with a flu like her stomach flu.
The icepack had fallen from her forehead onto the pillows as she was tossing and turning a great deal, and it felt warm when she slowly picked it up again with a shaky hand. Greif scrunched her face in irritation and quickly brought her arm down with the icepack still in her grasp, smacking the bed with it while moaning in pain. She wasn't too happy with that because it meant she needed to go all the way downstairs and refill it with more cold ice, a trip she could hopefully survive and make back in one piece without feeling too nauseous. Though perhaps now wasn't a good time for such thoughts, especially when her quick, jerky movement made her stomach tense up, and it was made worse by her constant tossing and turning. Coupled with her train of thought on nausea, she was feeling the urge to throw up and knew it was already overtaking her.
Greif jolted upwards, a hand over her mouth while the other seized the trashcan just as she swung her legs over the bed faster than she expected which made the feeling worse. It felt like a thousand nails and pikes were skewering her stomach as she vomited into the trashcan for a couple minutes until it was over. The pain never went away, and Greif still felt extremely sick even after her brief spell of puking was over. She really was a hopeless mess.
With a painful moan, she staggered to her feet and wobbled unsteadily while she sauntered through the second floor of her house, keeping both hands on the wall to steady herself. She didn't want to fall and risk putting herself and her stomach in even more pain because that meant she was going to vomit again. Greif knew that well from personal experience, so she was aware of the pain it caused by throwing more salt on the wound. Perhaps she should have stayed downstairs instead, but the couch wasn't comfy and it wasn't big enough in case she fell off it while rolling around. A sick woman like her needed a comfortable bed; hers was on the second floor with a couple in her guest room—also on the second floor. That walk downstairs was clearly an issue for her to handle, and the best she could hope for was that she didn't fall down those either.
Speaking of the devil itself, she was now standing above those very stairs and looked down at the first floor through blurred eyes. Her head hurt something fierce and it felt like a migraine in the making as she swallowed heavily while a shudder trickled down her spine. Greif hardly knew fear, but even she had to admit this was terrifying. Closing one's eyes to the fear was a good trick to help get over it, but she needed her sight for this even though her blurry vision was an issue she had to deal with. Best to just buck up now and get it over with; it was only a dozen stairs, nothing she couldn't handle despite the high chances of injury and more vomiting. Greif started shivering, and swallowed heavily again, slowly grabbing the rail with one hand and placing the other against the wall for support because both on the rail meant it could break under her weight.
The descent was difficult, but relatively alright since she took it slow and steady. She went down one step at a time, taking long breaks in between each step to breathe deeply. Each time she removed her hand from the wall and shook it wildly as she breathed. Greif was getting dizzy from the descent, fully aware of its effect on her. Her stomach was growling as she was hungry, and that just contributed to the stomach flu by making her feel nauseous again since she was thinking about it even if she didn't smell food. Still, she needed to feed herself and the only thing she could have was soup because anything else would make her vomit again.
Yes, a bit of soup would be good. A good bowl of soup would make this all better…
Greif suddenly shrieked as she slipped on the last step and lost her balance. By mistake she propelled herself forward on the rail and let go by accident when she tripped over her own feet and fell forward, landing flat on her face which made a hard impact on the floor. Greif was lucky that fall didn't split her head open or cut her in any way to cause blood even if it left a bruise, but now she felt more nauseous because the fall made her stomach churn violently. She felt she was going to be sick and realized the dread of throwing up again was becoming more of a reality than a petty fantasy—even if that fantasy had a lot of truth to it and was already a reality due to her illness. The trashcan in the kitchen was just on the other side of the room from where she was, and all she had to do was cross the threshold and the kitchen floor to reach it.
It wasn't so bad, but with the stomach flu it was actually a living hell. Hopefully she could make it, though the chances of that were highly slim. Greif feebly crawled over to the trashcan in the hope she could get to it in time before she vomited all over the floor. Unfortunately, she wasn't that lucky; she was able to get up to it, but that was when her willpower finally surrendered as the urge to puke secured victory over her. Just as Greif reached a trembling arm up towards the top of the trashcan, she suddenly seized her stomach as her mouth suddenly opened wide while all of that vomit in her stomach escaped through her esophagus and her mouth. It went all over the floor and the trashcan, or at least the area it landed on; some of the vomit even got on her nightgown as she was puking. Greif moaned in pain and slowly turned over when it was all out, slumping against a door of a kitchen cabinet in defeat, her left arm resting in the vomit which now got on her sleeve.
It was embarrassing even if nobody was around to see it, and she felt too weak to clean the mess up. She had tried a nice, warm bath earlier that day because she hadn't taken one for the past few days due to being in bed with a stomach flu. Greif fell asleep for a little bit and the next thing she knew she was almost drowning. That near-death experience was somewhat traumatic since she was still slightly scarred from that; nothing some therapy couldn't cure if she decided to get some.
That thought brought to mind how this happened. It began on Wednesday morning as Greif started feeling feverish. She was alone in her office at school when it came upon her while she was grading some papers. The office was closed up and quite hot because the air conditioner broke on Tuesday and she forgot to get a fan. Greif was poring over homework students did from Tuesday's math class and found herself having difficulty concentrating. The grading took a bit longer than she expected, but she got it done just in time for class. Following that she got through most of the day okay despite the fever, but the last class did her in. She'd been feeling very dizzy then and was wobbly too, and she collapsed halfway through it. She was sent to the nurse's office and got sent home while the principal contacted Blancblack Castle a short while later to acquire a substitute to fill in for Greif while she recuperated and recovered until she was all better to work.
With a bit of difficulty as Greif staggered to her feet whilst slipping in the fresh vomit from when she puked, the sick gryphon slowly walked to the fridge and got a container of microwavable soup. Placing it in the microwave and setting it to heat for three minutes, she then pressed a button on it to start the process so the soup could cook while she cleaned up the mess. It took about a couple of minutes to get that finished before settling down in a chair at the table. She checked her nightgown and looked it over briefly, wincing in disgust while observing the substance that was once inside of her stomach. It still was to some extent.
Greif sighed and slumped over on the table, feeling sicker than before because the sight of that vomit was really gross. It made her spine tingle in fear which was also caused by the shivering brought on by how cold it was in here. An air conditioner was installed in this room with another in her bedroom in addition to a fan, though each of these things made her feel very cold which was why she huddled under the covers of her bed to get warm. Yet she was very uncomfortable under those with her high fever nearing heatstroke, and Greif was also fatigued due to pain in her muscles and joints. It was something of a mystery how she managed to still get around her house somewhat, but perhaps that was due to endurance of her military training. Healers would've told her to stay in bed so a colleague could care for her. It was fruitless, however, since Greif didn't want to infect others with her illness; she suffered alone, isolated from the world inside her abode with nobody for company. That thought alone was enough to scare Greif into a subdued state of anxiety, but at least she had a means of contact with the outside world to look forward to every day.
The last minute was up and the microwave beeped loudly to indicate her meal was finally ready. It startled her somewhat as Greif reacted by moaning through clenched teeth with her hands pressed up against her ears. Usually that sound wouldn't have bothered her, but when she was sick like this it felt like two maces smashing the sides of her head together. She hated the noise, though she couldn't do anything about it. Part of her frail form wanted to destroy it, yet she realized it was a necessary evil she had to deal with if she wanted to heat up some soup like now.
Greif took her time staggering from the chair to the microwave when it beeped again, nearly making her lose her balance as she covered her ears again and whimpered feebly. Removing the soup, she returned to the table and let it cool off for a couple minutes which were spent staring into the liquid meal as if it were water or a mirror. Once the soup cooled, she drank it from the container and continued drinking it like that until the meal was all gone. Greif would've used a bowl like a regular individual as she was a proper lady, but the stomach flu made her not care for appearances and impressions. Whether she liked it or not, she was still very sick and that was enough to make her throw away dignity so she could at least have the meal she prepared for herself. When she was finished, she deposited it in the trashcan and slowly sauntered out into the living room that also acted as her foyer. If she wasn't sick, she'd read quietly in here or receive colleagues as guests.
Although Greif wanted to head back upstairs right away to curl up in bed, she opted for the mail instead. It came with—she hoped—her only connection to the world. Pressing a hand against the wall for support while she bent down to pick everything up off the floor where it had lain once the mailman inserted it all through the little slot on her front door, she felt a small smile instantly spread across her face at the sight of that connection atop the pile.
She struggled to return upstairs and get back to her bedroom, but before laying down Greif changed into a different nightgown and threw the other one with vomit on it into the laundry basket in her room. Taking a seat on her bedside and then slowly lifting her legs up to lay down, she then propped herself against the headboard and pored over her mail, throwing junk mail into a pile and forming another pile of important letters and documents sent to her. Although Greif wanted to read the special one right away, she saved it for last to savor it before getting a bit of sleep to dream of the daily events of today as a way of getting involved outside.
Now that she finished going through her other mail, she finally came to that particular letter right away and smiled as she opened it. It was a "get well soon" card from Yosafire, a student who constantly forgot her homework; though to be fair, she was actually getting better at bringing it in. Greif did get the occasional card from colleagues and some students expressing their sympathy for her, but Yosafire's were the best. The young demon always sent Greif one card per day about what happened every day, and she never skipped important details about crucial events she wrote about. She even took care of her teacher's garden while Greif was sick with a flu.
Greif wouldn't admit that Yosafire was surprisingly her favorite student even if the demon wasn't really the best at everything. Yosafire did much better in school now that Ivlis' invasion of the Gray Garden was stopped with a lot of thanks going to her as she was one of the main heroines who helped save the world and stood up to a devil—Ivlis. Even so, Greif enjoyed assigning her to pulling weeds from the school's garden on occasion; it was a way of teasing her which Yosafire never understood as Greif hardly displayed emotions. Perhaps she'd cut the young student a little more slack from time to time if she wanted to keep the cards from her flowing since she enjoyed receiving them on a daily basis to stay in touch with current events.
In any case, Greif smiled as she finished reading the card and set it aside on her nightstand by some of the demon's other cards before dozing off into a peaceful slumber to dream of enjoying the day, her doorway to the outside world thanks to Yosafire's "get well soon" cards.
…
And that pretty much wraps up this one-shot. Greif's not one for expressing how she feels, so that's what I wanted to delve into with this story. Granted, it may be kind of difficult to see and I don't think I went into it much, but I'm satisfied with how it turned out. There's not any dialogue because Greif is the only character in it aside from the mention to Yosafire, plus she's also sick which contributes to the lack of dialogue. It's a reflection of how Greif is feeling when she's sick, which is pretty much the idea of this one-shot.
I hope you enjoy reading this as I enjoyed writing it.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Gray Garden; it's owned by Mogeko.