Fairy Dust and Starbucks Cups 8
Been a while, eh?
I haven't updated in like half a year (again). I lost all my files for this story, and it's become some awful guessing game trying to remember how I left off and where I was going with this, so I'm a little uncertain as to how this chapter will play out. Bear with me.
Eight hours later, Hikari found herself weak-kneed, doubled over in her kitchen. Still gripping the knife she had been using to slice up a cucumber (which sat solitary on her countertop, half sliced), she noticed that the little bite from that weird fly that she had given no thought to had swollen to nearly triple its original size. A rage-red rash spread out from it in an odd shape- like the shape of the sun, she thought. She had been feeling somewhat dizzy the whole afternoon, but now her head spun, and she felt herself grow weaker and weaker.
She was suddenly so tired, so groggy… Hikari sunk to the floor and let the knife slip from her fingers. A voice shrieked at her to wake up, but she felt herself slide further and further into cozy unconsciousness. The voice grew dimmer, and then sounded again, much closer and louder. It multiplied tenfold, a thousand voices in a thousand tones and pitches all hollering at her at once to get up, and she tried, but only rose herself a few inches before slipping. Through the haze, she thought sadly of that lonely cucumber on the counter, how it would rot and be eaten by fruit flies.
She was certain she had been dreaming when she felt a pair of warm arms prop her up into a sitting position. She opened her eyes and saw a man- a neighbor? Her father- no, he had been dead for years, or had he? She tried to tell him so, but when her mouth fell open, she could only manage nonsensical mumbles. He was wearing purple, and had kind hands. Warm hands. She heard the voice again, and decided that it was coming from the man.
Wizard had left Witch's house that day with a bad feeling. It had been just a little tense suspicion, but had ballooned into almost a panic. Something horribly bad and horribly important was happening. He had not felt like this since his Master had died. The first place he had gone was the pond in the little woods behind the apartment complex. The Harvest Goddess had appeared, and though she was startled at his sudden appearance, offered him tea. She was fine, and the feeling remained, a cold fist in his gut as he dashed off to the next suspect. Witch was sipping iced tea and watching a sitcom when he burst in. Cake boxes littered the floor. She swiveled around in shock at his rude entry and began to berate him with all the force of a wildfire.
"How about you try knocking, buttwad! I'm a litt-"
He left before she could chew him out.
Witch was already beyond help, and it was of little consequence to him whether she was in danger anyway. He didn't know why he had bothered to check up on her. What assailant could possibly survive her bitchery?
There was one last person who could be in danger, and he cursed himself for not going there first. It must have been Hikari.
The feeling intensified until it clogged his throat and he could barely breathe as he walked up to her apartment. She was sprawled out on the floor of her kitchen, a knife beside her hand. His dread grew and grew. He noticed the bite as he propped her up- the rash was spreading to her wrist, red and full of welts. The bite-radius, which was shaped suspiciously like a stylized sun, had turned a deep purple-blue. She was incoherent and drooling when he tried to wake her up, murmuring alternately about her father, hands and voices, and about the cucumber on the countertop above her.
Years back, when he was very young and knew nothing of the ways of the world, when he thought he could actually lead an important life, helping humans and guiding them along, keeping them from making inevitable stupid decisions, he had accidentally developed something of a cure-all. It had been far too weak to cure any major, terminal diseases in one go, and had such a complicated recipe that he had forgone the development entirely. Recently, however, having looked into all possible outcomes of the situation with the Goddess, he had decided to resume tampering with it, and had managed to pare down the ingredients to things he could buy around town. Although it was only fractionally stronger than before, he always kept a stock of it on his person.
He tipped the small vial down her throat, and made sure she swallowed and watched as the rash receded marginally. So it worked as an antivenin too. Her face was ashen and sweaty, and she kept opening her eyes, which were as glassy and unfocused as a corpse's. What kind pf creature could have caused it? And the sun symbol simply stunk of magic. Rashes didn't just appear in pretty shapes like that. Wizard guessed that it was probably an attempt on her life.
Whoever was behind this had clearly not liked their weird little chat the other day, and was likely beginning to suspect her future involvement with him and the rest of the Association. He wasn't honestly sure how they knew that she would be important later on, since he himself had done his research, and peered into his crystal ball for a gander at the futures to come.
Her future blacked out very soon, which meant she had some sort of major involvement with one of the members of the Association. Wizard could see their pasts, but not their futures, and if she had anything to do with them other than a minor hello on the street, he could neither see nor do anything about it. The attempted assassination must have been a lucky guess or a pre-emptive strike. Either way, he had to get her resting comfortably and on the road to recovery very soon. He helped her to bed and found a tub in the bathroom in case she began vomiting.
He scanned the kitchen for a coffee maker. The one he found was cheap and stained, but would suit his needs. First, though, he had to return to his shop to gather his things, namely his notes and crystal ball.
When Wizard returned, she was heaving very actively in the bedroom, and he brought her a glass of water and a cool, damp rag for her suddenly burning forehead. She groaned, and tried to lift the glass herself, but couldn't, and so he held it for her and mopped up the spillage when it ran down her chin. When was the last time he had cared for someone sick? It must have been back when he was training with Witch, centuries ago. He barely remembered it, except that nursing Witch was horrible and thankless, and he wouldn't do it again even if she paid him in pure gold.
He settled in the kitchen and set a pot filled with the half-full bottle of awful fruit punch he had found in her fridge on the stove on high heat. He would've preferred his own cauldron and an open flame to work over, but he had to make do with what was available. He boiled the fruit punch with some herbs from the cupboard and a few ingredients from his own supply, according to the recipe and the adjustments he had made in his notes, and left it to sit for a day. Having nothing better to do, he settled in the front room with a book. Wizard didn't know how long it would take for Hikari to make t through the worst of the nausea and weakness, and so waited it out, absorbed in his thoughts.
I should be studying. I should really, really, really, be studying, but I'm on such a roll here. Better just work extra hard tomorrow and make up for it that way.