@lassiter

Another day as a patient in the hospital--over a week now, and still she worsened. Her fever would not break. It hovered in the low hundreds unresponsive to treatment. Her magic was gone. Time and time again healers had gotten her to try to cast spells--but she could not manage even simple ones. She wasn't so much of a witch anymore.

But feeling like death warmed over helped her not think about that so much. Her brain and body were fatigued. Being this sick was exhausting--and today had brought with it a new symptom: a miserable earache. Delilah was nearly used to the stiff sheets and thin gown--nearly used to the constant sheen of sweat on her body from the fever--nearly used to the pressure in her head causing a continual dull ache across under her eyes. But the pain in her ear, she could not imagine getting used to. The earache gave her a bit of vertigo, as well.

So, she was trying to stay in bed. She tossed and turned, trying to find some bit of comfort for her body--but every way she turned, it didn't matter. She was achy and miserable and it made her bloody grumpy. Delilah was trying her best not to be a bwitch to any of the healers that came in to assess her, but she was growing increasingly annoyed with being sick and going a bit stir crazy being couped up for over a week in an isolation chamber. She was tired of being observed. She was a private woman. She was accustomed to spending her days alone in the pharmacy over cauldrons. She went home to an empty, quiet flat. There was no privacy here. Lump that up on feeling physically as she did--and you got a very grumpy and pouty Delilah Graves. 

She could not even keep herself from sighing when the door opened. It would not be a visitor considering her aunt was at the Ministry and her mum was at Hogwarts. Beck and Ella were both checked in. So, this would be another healer. She just prayed they would not ask her to try to cast another spell...even though she knew they would. They had her attempt casting regularly--like once an hour or so. Just to monitor and confirm the state of her symptoms. 

Failing again and again was really bloody rough on the psyche. 

another day
_{another try}

it was worrisome to be sick and not be able to get better, as a healer unable to help a patient get better was even harder. He had seen children with ailments that he simply could not cure and it hurt his heart, but as a trainer he had some sort of expertise in all fields in order to each the incomers correctly. He was fond of a few departments but rounds to cases like the girl who had lost her magic got in curios in ways that he could never explain. Maybe it was something about the whole solving a mystery and making someone better Maybe it was the fact that he wanted to make people better at all costs, he would do anything to make someone better and see them leave, even though he knew that not ever patient would leave the place better.

After all the Morgue was there for a reason, there were people there who had come in for simple things and they would never leave, there were children, old people, young people. Death did not discriminate and Wil had learned from his parents that those who didn’t fear death deserved it. That those who did not feat the icy hand were fools, after all even though they were magical, and lived longer lives, no one was immortal.He would not wish death on the worst of his enemies, but there were things that were much worse and he knew it.

Things like what this patient was going through. He walked slowly towards her door as he looked over her chart and sighed before rubbing his brow softly. Nothing was helping in, her vitals were stable, but her fever and pain levels were not changing even with potions and poltice’s administered. She was a co-worker, and he hated to see her like this. Seeing anyone that he considered to be a friend like this would hurt Wil, but that was the kind of soft hearted fool that he was,

He knocked on the door to her room and stepped inside. ”Delilah, hello.” He walked in and set her chart down. Her spirits were low, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling at the pretty witch. H would admit to flirting with her from time to time when he went to her to get potions for his patients, so he tried to keep the same pretext when he came to see her here. After all, mentality was a large portion of recovery. Walking over to her he did a quick check of her temperature before sitting in the chair by her bed. ”Tea time soon. Would you like anything?”

Delilah Verity Graves| OUTFIT | 448