Sick!Pen

Starlight was often made of broken song. Little bits of tune that swirled around the night sky, sometimes got lost. When that happened, they wandered for a spell, winding through the alleys of the market to try and find home. But ultimately, they ended up lost to the night before ascending towards the cosmos and finding a new home there. When the stars were happy, everything was bright. There was a glimmer of something more to the world. As if the future was holding out its hand and asking the past to come and play.

But when the stars were mournful, the skies became a monochromatic wash of sorrow.

I woke knowing that something was wrong. The starlight was drooping. Instead of pinpricks of night, they looked like fading bits of tin or streaks of watercolor that had long dried into a blotted smear. But as I reached out, the world felt okay. For now at least, the Night Market was functioning the way it should, stepping through the motions without falter. It was because of this, that I turned towards the sky. 

When Pen was sick, the stars had a tendency for dramatics. She hadn’t been out to play with them in years, but they remembered their companion from childhood. The delicate way that Pen would tuck them in her pocket as she skipped through the dimensions had bolstered their song. Because of her, they set out on mischievous games that felt as if they may never end. Now that Pen was older, the stars still conjured around her. Asking her for her hand. Tugging at her hair. Sitting at her feet as she held court.  It was the closest to a game they could get with Death now.

Closing my eyes, I let myself sink into the void. My body dismantling and reforming with the stagnant bits of the heavens as I set foot in Death’s ‘palace’.  I felt a cold shiver go through me then. This had been the home of Pen’s father. Where she had grown up. But it was also the sight of the worst day of her life. For her to return here sent a chill through my bones. I raced through the hall to find her, bypassing the royal chambers and going towards her old room. Vaguely I remembered it from our youth, but I was much more accustomed to the small mausoleum she kept in the graveyard.

Outside her door, the stars were gathered. They sang a dirge that doused the hall in black. I pushed my way through them, my fingers dissipating their silver threads like webs before pushing open the heavy black door.

There was a lump under the four-poster bed. The blanket of swirling galaxy was cast over a small and shivering form.  

“Pen?” I approached cautiously. There was no answer aside from another wailing cry from the stars. “Oh, hush,” I told them. Closing the door behind me, I stepped further into the room. It was far too cold in here, the vacuum of the galaxy beyond taking any source of light. “Pen,” I called out for her again. She only curled tighter under her blanket.

Pausing by her bed, I pulled down some of the comforter. It felt like ice against my fingers. Pen was curled into a small ball, her skin ashen and lips chapped. When she blinked her eyes opened, and she looked at me with a fevered gaze.

I whipped the blanket off of her immediately, getting my arms under her own until I could pull her from the bed. Curling tight to me, she hunkered against my chest. “I think I’m sick,” she whispered.

“You are sick.” I carried her to the room next door where a sunken tub was kept, the water constantly steaming. The little star sprites scattered as we entered the room, but I was happy to see that at least there was steam bubbling from the tub. Without thinking, I walked the two of us in, feeling Pen recoil at the heat. “Shh,” I murmured. “You need to get warm. You were laying under a star field. That wasn’t going to do you any good.”

“Just grabbed the nearest blanket,” she murmured.

“Star fields aren’t blankets.”

“Are too.” Because that was who Pen was. Even sick, she was going to childishly argue.

“Pen,” I sighed. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell me you were under the weather.” I settled the two of us down in the water. It smelled of roses and eucalyptus. I wondered idly if the stars had been drawing a bath for her. They needed to do something useful other than mourn a death for Death.

“Reaped too many,” she said. “Boat drowned off the coastline trying to get into the market. Took them all.”

I felt my heart clench. For the people who had been seeking salvation. For Pen who tried to accommodate each soul instead of letting their Reaper find them.  It also explained why she was here. It was the closest place to where she could usher the souls to their afterlife. She most likely dropped after sending the last one through.

Curling her close to my body, I tucked her head under my chin. “It was too much,” I told her.

“I know.”

“You can’t be doing that.”

“Not gonna listen.” Her hands came out from the water, curling up and around my shoulders. They were wet and soaked the hair at the nape of my neck. But I knew how ridiculous the two of us looked. Two immortal beings, bathing and cuddling up in the hot springs of night.  “I’ll be okay,” she murmured, her shivers subsiding only slightly. “Just need some time.”

“I’ll stay with you then.” Scooping some of the water in my hands, I let it drip down her shoulders and arms, watching the goosebumps rise across her skin. 

“You just want to see me naked.”

I snorted a bit in laughter. Despite her fever, she still tried to waggle her brows at me. “I see you still have your humor.”

“Death is often the funniest person at the party.” A hacking cough was what punctuated the end of that sentence. One so hard it jerked her body to the side and made her groan.

“I’m staying,” I told her firmly.

When her shakes subsided, I rose from the water, finding large robes for each of us. When I held out the black silk, she glared, snatching the garment away from me before ducking behind a screen to change. Quickly, I stripped out of my sodden clothes, putting my robe on as well. The second I did, she came padding back to me, plastering herself against my front to try and leach back some of the body heat she had lost.

“Come home with me,” I told her. She didn’t respond. Not that I gave her much of an option to.  Instead, the world was sinking around us until we were back in my apartment, the well-worn couch butting up against our thighs. Wrapping my arms around her, I sunk back into the cushions, stretching myself out and pulling her on top.

“This is bordering on romantic,” she said, yawning loud enough that her jaw cracked. She then sneezed into my chest.

“It would be if you hadn’t just used me as a tissue.”

She patted my chest. “Good tissue,” she praised. But as I settled the blanket across her back, I felt her melt into me. Her breathing was labored, and I could feel the fever on her skin. It made me hold her tighter. “Thank you, old friend,” she whispered.

I sighed, feeling my heart swell slightly. “Get some sleep, Pen.” 

And with that, she was drifting away. When the stars came to check on the two of us later that night, they could only peek through my window. There, they saw Death sleeping on top of the world, both wrapped around each other as only lovers could do.