Morana - The First Cold

 Who knew a primordial could get a head cold? Definitely not Morana. She doesn’t know why this is happening, or what higher power finds this shit amusing, but it needs to stop now. Her nose is leaking constantly, yet somehow also feels as if bricks have been stuffed up her nostrils. It feels as if she’s swallowed razor blades, or something equally unpleasant, and her eyes have never been so swollen.

This is worse than Hell. She should know, too, seeing as that is the location in which she usually resides.

“Whiskey,” She says into the phone as soon as Elis answers.

“What?” Her sibling just sounds baffled, “Mor? Why do you sound muffled?”

“I’m fucking dying and I’ve looked in every cabinet we have for whiskey, or honey, or lemon. Somehow we are zero for three right now.” Mor seethes, “Out of them all, I’d like whiskey the most. Where is it?”

“Oh.” They sound reluctant, “I finished the bottle up with Syl a few nights ago.”

Always leave it to her family.

“Fuck you,” She says, part affectionate and part serious.

All she hears is Elis sputtering as she hangs up the phone. She runs damn near burning water and soaks a rag in it, laying it over her face. It does nothing to relieve the pressure building up in her head. She feels like a balloon that’s been overinflated. 

She sends you a semi-whiny message, but you’re in class. You won’t respond for quite some time, so she does the next best thing. She googles it. Apparently spice helps, so she rounds up every hot sauce in the house and makes a cocktail so cursed she could probably fool Satan into thinking it’s you. 

Staring down the glass, she brings it to her lips. Almost as if it anticipates the torture to come, the pressure in her head eases off. It’s too late for negotiations, though. She downs the whole thing, and the effect is almost instantaneous. She coughs, and she feels like lava is shooting up her throat. Maybe if she opened her mouth right now, flames would escape.

At least her head feels better. Her mouth, and likely her stomach in a few moments, cannot say the same. By the time you finally text her back, she’s already collapsed on the couch and fallen asleep, cursing the universe all the while.