The youngest member of Pavlo Krum’s family had never been a stranger to the sterile blankness of hospital environments. After spending weeks at a time cooped up surrounded by, not the absence of light, but all of the colours the visible light spectrum possessed melded into one; even the slightest concentration of colour made his eyes ache painfully in their sockets. Sevastian had never ailed quite the way he had that early March. He’d spoken briefly to his cousins, who were dotted about the castle, about it. Elijah seemed to be the only one who was not moved by the bug that was being passed around. Most of his cousins had come down with runny noses and had retreated to the Hospital Wing complaining of chest pains and high fever. They were merely given a few relieving potions and sent on their merry ways, only to return days later with the same complaints only in a more dizzied state than they had been in before. Sevastian had tried to hold up and not go to the Hospital Wing. He’d tried but it had been in vain. He was increasingly finding himself unable to sleep for his body was lined with layer after layer of sweat that could not be wiped away and he was burned by a heat that could not be doused.
It was not to the Hospital Wing that he retreated, though. He found himself overheated and disorientated on the seventh floor searching for something his mind could not identify. He felt along the walls, half searching half trying to keep on his feet. He needed somewhere to go and soon, after much frizzled thought on it, he found himself feeling a different texture and then the curve of a door handle. In the most fluid of moves he’d made that day, Sevastian wrenched open the door and threw himself through it. He hit the water first. Sevastian gasped as icy cold water engulfed his body and though he kicked his legs he could do nothing to bring himself up again. He merely fell. He fell, fell and fell, all the while feeling the burn of his lungs as they fought for air.
But then he was relieved.
With a slam, Sevastian landed against a bed unusually soft and almost reminding him of home. It smelt sterile, though and he relaxed into the duvet. He only got to have a look around the room briefly. There were rows upon rows of beds and cabinets teaming with ingredients and potions. He got a glimpse of that, then he lapsed into darkness.
by Baldric Pierson Sat Mar 24, 2012 9:37 am
