The seasons in Fairy Land weren't as diverse as they were on The Human Plane. There was no transition of winter, no cold as she was accustomed to, and no summer, the height of heat. There were two seasons, one in the beginning of the year, and the other six months after, in the height of the Suns' lives.
Every year, after Guld Fethel, magic would be more than abundant in the realm. It excited all the dryads in the Black Wood, made them crazy and far too industrious at their job, blowing life into all the plants, making them bud and bloom. But once the small creatures, commonly mistaken by humans for fairies, pushed outwards to the borders of the Woods, there was no stopping them, in a frenzy to make bloom as much as possible, and they became brave, pushing into the districts and running amok. There were far too many of them to be corralled efficiently – fairies have tried, but it was a wasted effort, trying to keep them contained.
It would have been bearable, but for the fact that because of the cycles of the Suns, the times when magic was at its height, things never stopped blooming. Of course, towards the ends of the runs, it was much better. Things would bloom almost immediately after Guld Fethel, the time of the year when magic was just naturally abundant. The pollen and residual magic would hang in the air, slowly diminishing until Lu'Leas Be Tselares, when the rebirth of the suns would renew the magic, exciting the dryads again and they would spread over the districts again. Only once the second round of blooms began did the first ones whither, loosing color and retreating into the ground.
Some fairies were affected more than others; where it was a nuisance for some, it could land others in the ward. The mixture of pollen and magic could be a major trigger for some, causing allergies that could be potentially life threatening.
Tracy sniffled, leaning back into the chair in the break room. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, tipping his head back. He wasn't exactly one of the unlucky ones; his reaction – his allergies, as Rae called them – were hardly as life threatening as they were for some of the fairies he knew, but they were miserable.
He gave a great sneeze, his whole body jerking and hitting his knee painfully on the underside of the table he was sitting at.
He looked at his watch, counting down the minutes until his shift, the window of time for him to receive assignments, was over.
He pawed irritably at his chest, and glanced at his watch again. He just had a few more minutes until he could go home, back to Rae and just being with her would take his mind off of the renewed spring, the frustrating effects of the dryads.
The magic in the air, coupled with the pollen of all the blooming flowers, had proved bothersome for him over his life. He'd had the infliction since he was a young boy, but it hadn't affected him as much, then. Things had gotten worse as he'd gotten older, and now his 'allergies' lasted longer than ever – almost half the season, slowly building during the first month and coming to a crescendo during the sixth week, leaving him the rest of the time to recover. This season, though, they'd hit him hard – there was more magic in the air, this season; no one could explain it, but despite the personal suffering of Spring, it was a good thing – it meant this season's quota could be lower to sustain The Pool, and any surplus magic collected could be used in the reserve.
Tracy moved through the rest of the day in motions. He was glad to go home but, once he was there, he found that all he wanted to do was curl up next to Rae and go to sleep. He was weary and his mind was starting to drift, unable to keep focus for the stiffness in his chest.
Come later that evening, there were no objections.
Rae was up so early, as of late – nearly two hours before their alarm went off. She slid out of bed, careful not to wake Tracy, to go feed Lucas and tell Michelle to get ready for class. It'd been a rough night for her husband. Before they'd gone to bed, he'd very nearly been unable to breath through his nose, and had taken to a fit of coughing every couple of minutes. She'd given him some cough medicine; he'd taken it very hesitantly, unsure of how he'd react to the human concoction, but she'd reassured him; instead of treating the magical aspect of his illness, trying to cure it (a task that was all but impossible, with the irritant bountiful in the atmosphere), what she gave him was meant to help the congestion in his chest and nose. He wasn't used to human medicine, the chemicals and synthesized drugs. Fairy medicine was traditionally natural, made of herbs and other organics from both worlds. But she'd told him that it would work, that it would help him clear up a bit and get the rest he so desperately needed, and he'd downed the measured dose of the clear, bitter liquid, coughing as it burned through his chest. She'd had him lie down and kept his head propped up all night, hoping that the medicine would work during the night, let him sleep and wake up feeling much better.
But as she carefully turned the knob, hearing Lucas's muffled, discontented cries from the nursery, her husband gave a great snore, which ended in a cough as he shuffled onto his side.
Rae sighed, having pity for the sick man, but at least he was sleeping. The last few nights, before she'd been able to convince him to let her make a run to The Human Plane, they hadn't been so lucky,Tracy having to get up every hour or so to go to the bathroom and try to decongest himself.
Rae let him, glad that he hadn't woken up, moving quietly down the hall to the nursery. She picked Lucas up, cradling him against her shoulder as she moved into the kitchen to make a bottle for the little boy.
She sat in the dimly lit kitchen with him, cradling her in her arms and pressing the bottle to his lips as he sucked. Soon, a glance at the kitchen clock told her that it was nearly seven. She frowned, looking towards the bedroom door as Lucas finished off the bottle. Tracy was usually up by now. She lay her son back down, listening to his soft, happy gurgles for a moment, before he fell back into a light sleep, and she went back down the hall by the light of the kitchen, opening the door a crack and peeking in. Tracy lie on his back, now, head tilted back into the crease of the pillow, snoring loudly.
Rae's shoulders shook in a silent giggle at the sight and she entered, creeping up next to him and flicking the switch on the alarm clock, turning it off so that it's blare wouldn't wake him.
Smiling, she retreated, watching his form as she backed out of the room, closing the door and going to help Shell to classes.
The sun was higher, the light streaming freely though the windows. There was a kettle on the stove, keeping the water hot until Tracy woke up.
Lucas was napping, after a diaper change, and Michelle was off at The Academy. She was alone, for the moment, and it was nearing eight o clock; the fairy in the next room was still asleep.
There was a clatter from the bedroom, and she looked up from her book as he came bounding into the kitchen, stumbling and sniffling and half-dressed, with his tie half undone and one cuff buttoned, his vest inside out, and she stood immediately, rushing to him, to give him a support and he almost fell against her. "Sorry," he gasped. "I'm – I'm going to be late." The last word dissolved into another cough, and she could hear the phlegm in his chest, the result of a week's worth of allergies. She hushed him, leading him to the kitchen table, where he happily took a seat, knees weak beneath him. "The alarm, it didn't go off, I should have been up half an hour ago—"
"That's because I turned the alarm off, sweetie. Don't worry, I already called you in sick." She said, steeping a teabag in the hot water in the mug, adding honey and lemon as he groaned, wiping at his forehead.
"No, honeybee, I – I can't call in sick, I have to – you know how it is – they need everyone they can get, what with all the – the – the—" he sneezed, a loud, resonating noise that shook his whole body.
"Forget it," she said sternly. "No way I'm letting you go to work like this." She handed him the mug before going to rummage though one of the cabinets next to the stove. She came back to Tracy with a small bottle in her hand, setting it on the table in front of him. He looked at it wearily, taking it in one of his own hands and squinting down at it; he'd left his glasses in the bedroom, and honestly couldn't see very much, which, Rae assumed, accounted for his inside-out vest. "Wot's this?" he asked, and they could both hear how nasal his voice was.
She leaned over him, wiping the matted hair from his forehead. "More medicine. I want you to take two of them with that tea and go back to sleep." She said.
"No," he said, sternly, though it came out sounding positively pathetic. "I've got to go in, you shouldn't have called, you know I need to be there," he retorted, placing the steaming mug on the table and trying to stand. He coughed again, and when he was able to gasp for breath, he shuddered.
She took him by the elbow and tried to offer some support. "Tracy," she started, leading him back to the bedroom. He wanted to protest, but the shivers and the sheer exhaustion prevented him from doing so. "You're top of your team, and the last time you took a day off was when Michelle was born and you had to drop the assignment to come to the hospital. Please," she said, as he sat heavily on the bed. She unbuttoned his vest and eased it over his shoulders, removing it and turning it right-side-in before folding it over her arm, bending over him and performing the same motions on his shirt. She had him lie down, seeing that his chest was slick with perspiration, as she went to retrieve the tea and the medicine. "Please, just rest. You need it, you look dreadful."
He hummed miserably into the mug, downing the two pills she'd handed him. "Call Fairy," he said sleepily, sliding back under the covers, "and tell them I'll just be in… later…" he whimpered, trying to suppress a cough and closing his eyes.
She bent down and placed a kiss to his forehead. "Of course, my dear." She whispered before she stood and left him to sleep.
Rae knew he would be bed-ridden for another day or two, until the care and medicine could open him up and break up the congestion in his chest; she didn't bother calling Fairy.