A medical emergency

[fadingworld]

A deep navy cloak hides his features and the more ornate tunic the courtesan usually wears to greet his clients. Mal hunches his shoulders and slides through the crowds hoping to avoid notice. He keeps his head down until he reaches the home of the doctor and wraps smartly on the door. "Open up," he calls in a voice that expects to be listened to.

How much time did he have? He could not have a client bleeding out. Not this one. Not one who had come to him for help, to be treated privately.

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[mandragoraspiritus]

He isn't long on the floor, though. Very soon a pair of thin and wiry but surprisingly strong arms scoop in under him to lift him up.

"That, I fear, we will have to say counts to getting worse," Regis says as he lays Mal down on the cot, stretching him out and quickly snatching up a blanket to drape over him. "I must say that I am extremely reluctant to letting you return to The Rose Thorn in this state. So reluctant, in fact, that I think I shall simply have to send word that you will be a time returning."

[fadingworld]

"Tell them, I'll be there by nightfall," Mal says pulling the blanket tighter around him. If he could just get warmed up it would be fine. The shivers are getting worse, harder to stop. "I hate to be pain but could I have another blanket. Please?"

[mandragoraspiritus]

No, Regis does not think that Mal will return to the establishment by nightfall. In fact, he's sure of it. But nevertheless he goes out to speak with the coachman after hanging draped another blanket over Mal, informing the man that Mal has taken ill and that he will be kept there a time. After hanging been given a tip for his trouble, the coachman is on his way.

He's quick to return to Mal's side, immediately mixing up a tonic for him and setting a medicinal tea to brew, then gently propping him up to coax the first liquid into him. He can easily feel that the fever is rising. "Well, my friend, I dare say that you arrived here just in time."

[fadingworld]

The liquid feels like sandpaper going down his throat. He leans back against the arm, instinctively trying to arrange his body to look elegant.

"Are you sure this place isn't making me sick?" he asks half joking. "My head is trying to split into two."

[mandragoraspiritus]

Silly man, Regis thinks as he notices the shift Mal does. Even now he must look his best.

"I dare say that this place will make you well but I should also tell you that I doubt you will be fit to leave it for several days." His cool fingers lays over Mal's forehead a moment. "Your temperature is most certainly rising, but I shall have a tea ready for you soon that should help with that, as well as with the headache."

[fadingworld]

Two days. Mal's mind swirls. Who had appointments with him? With a low groan of despair he tabulates the potential loss of earnings for the Rose Thorn. Combining this with the trip that had been cut short he would not be popular with the Madam.

"I'll do whatever you say if you can have me out of here before two days are out," he murmurs. "You broke the Duke's fever quickly."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"The duke's fever was one that I myself induced in him to burn out the poison he had been subjected to. This is something else and not as easily countered when I do not know the cause for it. I will certainly do my best, but sickness must run its course. It is better that you rest now rather than have this haunt you for a longer time."

He lays Mal down but is soon back to lift and prop him up again, now to drink the bitter tea that he's cooled down and diluted with some clean, cold water.

[fadingworld]

Mal mumbles as he's shifted back up, making a noise of pain as his aches make themselves known in the shift. He drinks automatically.

"If, I talk in my sleep please ignore what I say."

[mandragoraspiritus]

"You can rely on my doctor's discretion," Regis assures and then gently lays Mal down again once he's finished drinking the dose of medicine.

There's a knock on the door not much later, where an anxious coachman informs Regis that The Rose Thorn is closed and under quarantine. That is worrisome an makes Regis wonder just what he has to deal with in Mal. It also means that his clinic too must be closed off from the public. He thanks the coachman and sends him on his way, and after having fixed a sign to his front door he locks it tight.

[fadingworld]

Mal dozes off, sleeping restlessly. Only waking when the door shuts behind Regis. His fever bright eyes track the other's movement.

"You can leave me if there is someone else to tend to," he says.

[mandragoraspiritus]

"There isn't and there won't be." He silently debates with himself the merits of being truthful to Mal, and the strain of worry of telling the man just what is going on.

In the end, honesty wins out.

"You should know that The Rose thorn is under quarantine. I just now received word. So for the sake of safety, I have closed my doors as well."

[fadingworld]

Any lasting colour drains from Mal's face. "I've brought trouble to your doors," he says apologetically. "Do they know what it is?" There were courtesan's who were quite delicate, if there was anything serious...

[mandragoraspiritus]

"The messenger did not say, though I have asked to be informed." Regis sounds quite calm about it all, moving around the room to chose between his various remedies, collecting the ones he thinks has the best chance of working.

"For your part, all you must turn your focus on is resting and recovering."

[fadingworld]

"Please keep me up to date," Mal says shutting his eyes. It would be rude to turn his back and curl into a ball, tempting as it was. "What are you going to use on me?" He can listen at least, though what he'll remember as the fever takes a strong hold on him is debatable.

[mandragoraspiritus]

"That will depend entirely on how the symptoms progress. Willow bark for certain. Sage and rosemary for the inflammation. Yarrow, elderflower, ginger and boneset, most likely." It turns into a bit of a lecture with Regis listing the various qualities of herbs and how he would prepare them, of teas versus tinctures or the more powerful distillates he manufactures himself. It is true what people say, that he likes to talk, but now he also speaks because it seems to give Mal comfort to listen.

Eventually though it becomes clear that Mal has drifted off into sleep made uneasy by fever. The hard, narrow cot really isn't the place for proper rest, Regis feels. So once again this day he slides his arms in under the sleeping man and gently picks him up, cradling him easily as he carries him off into his own sleeping quarters, laying him down on the bed there and covering him with his own sheets and blankets. The scent fo herbs remains strong here as well but there is something else; like a tang of metal, of copper or iron. And, underneath it all is petrichor, the scent of rain-washed soil.

[fadingworld]

Dreams where herbs come to life and talk to him fill Mal's dreams. His heart races in the dream as they tell him he can't be cured and he comes to with a gasp.

He blinks, the surrounding is all wrong. "Where..." he pushes the blankets back feverishly with a sense that he must get out.

[mandragoraspiritus]

Then Regis is there, almost as if he's come from nowhere, gentle but firm hands pushing Mal back to remain in bed, touches on his forehead to soothe him. Then those thin but strong arms lifting Mal, propping him up as a glass of cool and slightly bitter drink is held to his lips.

"You are still with me," he says softly. "The fever still has you but I shall keep you safe. Here, drink."

[fadingworld]

Mal's breathing steadies. It's the smell that reassures him first. That clean smell of herbs that he's quickly associated with Regis. "Sorry," he swallows the drink with difficulty. "It felt wrong. But it smells right."


He leans back, letting himself feel supported and after a moment he stops trying to make the position look good and simply flops. "Is this your room?"

[mandragoraspiritus]

The moment where Regis can feel Mal's body giving in and simply relaxes honestly makes him smile. Good.

"It is," he confirms, letting Mal stay leaning on him for a moment longer, though he does take the time to again assess his vitals. He's still getting worse. "It was more conductive to proper rest, I felt. Is your throat giving you problems?"

[fadingworld]

"Swallowing isn't pleasant," Mal says with a faint grin thinking fleetingly of how that could be taken in another setting.

"I apologise for kicking you out of your own bed." He swallows, feeling like his throat is closing over. "I'd offer to share, but I don't think now is the time."

[mandragoraspiritus]

This time there is actually a slight chuckle in response to Mal's flirtations. "No, no it most certainly is not. Rest easy, Mal, I shall take my rest elsewhere when I need it."

Carefully he lays Mal back down again after having puffed up his pillow for him and then straightens out the rumpled covers. "Go back to sleep, if you can. I shall remain close by."

[fadingworld]

Mal is not going to forget that chuckle and he will try to produce it again later. His body and mind do feel heavy and shutting his eyes again does seem like all he is fit for.

It feels like someone walks over his grave as he shuts his eyes and he shivers. "I don't like my body disobeying me," he mutters as he drifts off to sleep.

[mandragoraspiritus]

Regis knows that even asleep the mind will respond to outward stimuli. He does remain close by as he had promised, preparing his remedies. When he notices that Mal's rest becomes uneasy he might reach out for a soothing touch or he might simply talk, sometimes reading from one of his many books or he might just tell some fantastical tale or other.

[fadingworld]

Occasionally Mal stirs enough to be aware of the light touches or the story. Regis is his sole comfort in the agonies his body puts him through.

He rambles as he stops shivering, pushing his leggings and sheets away to cool down. He rambles about his training, how he'd never known what it was like to loved. His desires to do some good, to have a simple embrace of love.

[mandragoraspiritus]

In those moments when Mal is sweating out the sickness rather than shivering in its grasp, when he's rambling in delirium, Regis is glad that there is no-one else here. He feels sorry for the young man, of course he does, and feels it is a shame or even outright waste for him to remain in the profession he's been raised into. It was never his choice, was it?

He does what he can to help him cool off, helping him strip away his clothes and pulling the sheets back, and with cloths dampened with cool water he wipes him down head to toe. Perhaps Mal himself would be awkward to be seen in such a state, or be touched in such a way, but Regis is a man of medicine and the human body holds no secrets from him.