meteormercenary (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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raisetheearth2015-10-04 10:11 am
meteormercenary) wrote in raisetheearth2015-10-04 10:11 am
Entry tags:
It's that time of year.
Who: Jacob and you
What: Jacob isn't feeling so hot.
Where: Shepherd's Haven, Woodend
When: Late afternoon, October 3rd
Status: OPEN!
Jacob blinks hard as he fumbles the key into the lock of the shop. He is closing early for the day, he hopes no one will really mind. Between the headache, the chills, and the dizziness, he can't afford to sacrifice his health or that of his customers. He tries to keep in mind that he can't really take the cold medicine in his pocket until he gets home, which honestly might give him the occasional look of terror to cross his face as he beelines to the nearest drugstore. He shudders as he tries to push the memory of his sister's illness to the back of his mind.
He'll pick up several varieties of medicine made to treat colds and flus, and try to leave the store as quickly as possible, but finds that he needs to steady himself quite a bit. Does he have a fever? He can't tell, he just knows he wants to go home and nip this in the bud. He lays down the cash at the register and forgets to pick up his change as he leaves the store.
He takes a path where he can lean on walls and trees on his way home, and with each step he takes, it becomes more frequent. He ends up leaning against the wall of a taller building and slumps to the ground as he tries to fight the fatigue. Sweat is visibly dripping off his brow and he feels distinctly nauseous. If he's already feeling this bad, he's not sure how he's going to get up all those stairs to his apartment. He cringes as he feels his head pound at thoughts of his fears in illness.
One might find him muttering incoherently under his breath as he awaits certain death or rescue.
What: Jacob isn't feeling so hot.
Where: Shepherd's Haven, Woodend
When: Late afternoon, October 3rd
Status: OPEN!
Jacob blinks hard as he fumbles the key into the lock of the shop. He is closing early for the day, he hopes no one will really mind. Between the headache, the chills, and the dizziness, he can't afford to sacrifice his health or that of his customers. He tries to keep in mind that he can't really take the cold medicine in his pocket until he gets home, which honestly might give him the occasional look of terror to cross his face as he beelines to the nearest drugstore. He shudders as he tries to push the memory of his sister's illness to the back of his mind.
He'll pick up several varieties of medicine made to treat colds and flus, and try to leave the store as quickly as possible, but finds that he needs to steady himself quite a bit. Does he have a fever? He can't tell, he just knows he wants to go home and nip this in the bud. He lays down the cash at the register and forgets to pick up his change as he leaves the store.
He takes a path where he can lean on walls and trees on his way home, and with each step he takes, it becomes more frequent. He ends up leaning against the wall of a taller building and slumps to the ground as he tries to fight the fatigue. Sweat is visibly dripping off his brow and he feels distinctly nauseous. If he's already feeling this bad, he's not sure how he's going to get up all those stairs to his apartment. He cringes as he feels his head pound at thoughts of his fears in illness.
One might find him muttering incoherently under his breath as he awaits certain death or rescue.