It was much earlier than usual when Griffonclaw stepped out the door of the his Stormwind home, and almost ran to the griffon pens. He had been very late in getting in, and had no sooner hit the threshold of his house than he had collapsed, sleeping on the hardwood floor, still wearing his armor.
Fighting the Scourge put a new meaning to the phrase "Dead Tired", after all.
When he had awoken, he had felt very disoriented. Someone had stripped him of armor, arms, and weapons, and wrapped him in the fur rug. His armor and weapons had been cleaned, sharpened, and put in their accustomed place.
And Dathala, his slave girl, had slept curled up to him, but on the other side of the furs. He felt guilty as he stirred, and did his best to disengage from her without waking her, settling the fur over her body.
She had done this, had taken care of him. He smiled, with something resembling regret. Part of him wished that he could give her what she needed, what she craved... but he could not.
His heart - and all the things that connected to it - was owned by Selvaggia.
He had dressed in silence, making sure she had enough food, and that the household account had enough money. He felt guilty for not spending more time with her, and resolved to remedy that soon.
But not today.
On his way to the griffons he bought a selection of confections and a dozen roses for his love, and before long was winging his way to Darkshire. His thoughts on the journey were all of her; he had not seen her the day before, and he felt that deprivation keenly.
He practically leaped from the griffon before it landed, and ran down the hill to the inn where she rented a chamber. Swiftly climbing the stairs, he knocked.
No reply.
He knocked a second time.
She was angry with him.
It would not be their first fight, although Griffonclaw prefered to use the term "fiercely enthusiastic discussion". But usually she did him the courtesy of answering. If she wasn't answering...
No.
His armored form smashed the door in before he had a chance to think; if she could not answer might mean that she was... and the thought of her in peril moved him quite swiftly beyond volition or thought.
She was there, but in bed still.
And she hadn't woken when he smashed in her door.
He moved to her side, and touched her cheek gently. "Love?" he whispered. Are you OK?"
But his hand confirmed that she was not; she was hot to the touch, moreso that was usual for her.
"Selvie?" he said, louder, trying to wake her.
"Sleepy," Selvaggia muttered, snuggling down further onto the down comforter and mattress.
Her hair looked damp and her face was flushed. Concerned, he knelt beside the couch and reached up to brush her hair back from her face.
"You're burning up!" he exclaimed. "Have you been laying here sick all day yesterday?"
"No, I just got back late," Selvaggia murmured, pulling away from his touch. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep our date... I was in Tirisfall..."
"I'm taking you to the physician" Griffonclaw said, rising to his feet. "Your fever is much too high."
Selvaggia struggled and shoved at him when he tried to help her up. She turned away from him and pulled her blanket tighter around herself, as though shielding herself from him. However, Selvaggia had little strength, sick as she was, but she struck at him when he tried to pick her up. Her nails caught his arm, raking over her skin enough to scratch him.
"I hate the physicians" she grumbled when he had finally let go of her. "I'll be fine. Just let me sleep."
"At least let me put you to bed," Griffonclaw said, rubbing his arm where she'd scratched him.
Selvaggia snorted. "This is my bed," she told him. "Now leave me alone."
She rolled over again, turning her back to him.
"Hardly."
What she needed was a priest or a physician, but he knew full well that she loathed both, and he was reluctant to force her if she truly didn't want to go. The problem was that with her fever so high, she might dehydrate. "I can't leave her like this", Griffonclaw thought, looking around. He stepped out of the chamber while she dozed, and made arrangements.
He stepped back in, and held her while he waited. The innkeeper and servants obeyed his instructions, and left them alone.
He wrapped her in the blanket, making sure her feet were tucked under it, then lifted her up. She was a tiny little thing and light as could be. Granted he was no puny little twig, but she just felt...small. Like something that needs to be protected, Griffonclaw thought, settling her more comfortably in his arms.
"No physician..." Selvaggia murmured, struggling feebly in his arms.
"No physician," Griffonclaw promised.
She mumbled something incoherent and snuggled up against him, letting her head rest against his chest. Poor thing, Griffonclaw thought, leaning down and kissing her forehead gently. Selvaggia was barely coherent. "Maybe I should take her to the physician anyway...", Griffonclaw thought, but decided against it. With his oath of vengance still pending, and her loyalty to the Scions of Darkness... they had enough potential conflict without adding a knowing betrayal of trust, even witht he best of intentions, into the mix.
Suddenly, she she wriggled out of his arms so that he couldn't hold her. Somehow, stumbling and half-blind, Selvaggia made it to the privy pot. Griffonclaw tossed the blanket onto the bed and followed her, in time to hold her hair back from her face.
"Shhh..." Griffonclaw soothed, rubbing her back gently as she threw up.
He could feel her trembling. Griffonclaw continued stroking her hair back as she sat down hard, and held her close. Her soft, lovely witch-eyes flickered up to look at him. Through the blur of sickness he could see such vulnerability that it made him want to scoop her up and hold her tight. Griffonclaw held onto her shoulders as she straightened up and wiped her mouth.
"I feel...gross..." Selvaggia said, her voice shaking with exhaustion. "I want to be...clean..."
"Good idea" Griffonclaw told her, as he rose and began helping her to her feet. "Glad I thought of it."
He hooked an arm around her and held her against his chest carried her back to the main chamber. Griffonclaw let Selvaggia lean on him while he slowly and carefully undressed her, and lowered her into the copper tub full of hot water. She closed her eyes and moaned as the heat made some of her aches subside. Using a cloth and the bar of soap they'd left, he bathed her from head to foot, washing her raven-black hair as well. Ordinarily her pale, white skin would have aroused him, but there was nothing of lust in his actions... merely care and solicitude.
"I...I hate feeling this way..." she mumbled.
"I know, love... I know... " he responded tenderly, using a brush to begin untangling her hair.
When he was done brushing out her hair, he enveloped her in a big, fluffy towel, and picked her up, cradling her carefully in his arms.
The servants had also replaced the linens, as instructed. They knew he was a healthy tipper.
"Now, here's how this works," he said, as he dried her off. "Tonight I'm going to stay here. Shortly, I'm going to go downstairs and get the chicken broth they're making now" Griffonclaw draped the towel over her shoulders and went over to his pack, pulling out a blue tunic. "Which, by the way, you'll get to have several times throughout the night, and plenty of it."
"I hate chicken soup," Selvaggia muttered, lifting up her arms for him to pull the tunic over her head.
"I should savor this while it lasts", Griffonclaw thought, "because I'll never see her this docile ever again." Out loud he said, "You're going to drink it anyway. If, by the morning, your fever hasn't gone down some—or if it spikes up again during the day—I'll be taking you to the physician whether you like it or not, even if you get mad at me."
He didn't mention that there were still occassionally cases of the Plague or related ailments that one could catch in Tirisfal, from both the Forsaken and the Scourge, who were still making nasty weapons of that nature.
When she was curled up beneath the blankets, dozing, he sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to brush her hair back from her face. He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead. "I will be here, love... now sleep".
