( Thea is one to keep a smile on her face — it's the proper thing to do, after all. One mustn't let the cracks show, and all of that. But smiling becomes harder when your lungs are burning with the roots taking hold through their branches and capillaries. Thankfully forget-me-not flowers are small and easily hidden in her handkerchief when she coughs, deposited in a bloody heap in the bottom of her bag as she makes her way through the city, hoping to find a doctor to treat this problem before anyone sees her.
Sod's law says that of course going without being seen would be too much luck. Though, in a way, it might be her fault that she's seen — she catches sight of that familiar head of hair as she's trying to cut through a small park, half-curled on a bench. )
... Darling?
( Ugh, even talking hurts like this. )
Are you— ( cough. Yet more petals in her hand. ) —alright?
stretch your ribs
Sod's law says that of course going without being seen would be too much luck. Though, in a way, it might be her fault that she's seen — she catches sight of that familiar head of hair as she's trying to cut through a small park, half-curled on a bench. )
... Darling?
( Ugh, even talking hurts like this. )
Are you— ( cough. Yet more petals in her hand. ) —alright?