Marmalade's Love Potion

Ch 11 - Repercussions - Part 1

Penelope opened her eyes to the chill light of mid-afternoon. She sat up, struggling against the weight of several layered blankets, to find herself on the lounge in the sitting room.

She groaned as the movement caused a sharp ache behind her eyes, a pain she'd not felt since Sister Rosin had once allowed Penelope to indulge as much mead as she had wanted. Once had been more than enough for that particular lesson.

Penelope stumbled down the hall into the bathing room. Swallowing down a roiling feeling of nausea, Penelope splashed water on her face. The shock of cold was rousing, yet her eyes remained bleary and unfocused as she inspected herself in the mirror.

With a sigh, Penelope set herself to a brisk wash, scrubbing the caked dirt from her skin.

Feeling distinctly foggy, Penelope recalled her adventure from the previous night. A near-delirious patchwork of memories from the deep forest swirled through her mind, vibrant fragments of imagery and sensations.

Smiling ruefully, Penelope still thought the experience quite worth the resulting ache now clanging in her bones.

Ablutions completed, Penelope donned a thin robe, fumbling to knot the belt around her waist. Though the winter air was frigid, Penelope felt feverish, her skin warm and flushed.

Shuffling further down the narrow hallway, Penelope entered the kitchen to find Sister Heely pouring tea, Marmalade seated cross-legged in a chair at the kitchen table, Marmot scrabbling into an open cupboard, and Steph reclining against the counter as Sister Rosin sliced pieces of afternoon cake.

Everyone looked up as Penelope entered, scuffing her socks over the stone floor.

"Afternoon there, duckling," Sister Rosin sang, plating the cakes as Steph placed them on the table. "How're you feeling, then?"

"Why are you shouting?" Penelope rasped with a pout as she collapsed in the nearest chair at the table's end.

Sister Rosin chuckled and ruffled her curls as Marmalade leaned forward with interest.

"What are your symptoms?" the witch asked.

"Um... hot... bothered... pain... imminent death, I'm certain," Penelope whined, resting her head on her arms, allowing her hair to cloud about her face and block the harsh light.

"Death?!" Sister Heely hissed.

"She won't die," Marmalade interjected with a low laugh. "But some discomfort is to be expected, perhaps for a day." Penelope clenched her teeth with an audible click. "Maybe two."

Penelope felt gentle fingers petting her hand and hummed at the touch. "Your hands are cold."

"Sorry," Steph said, withdrawing his hand.

"No! Continue, cold is nice," Penelope commanded, sighing in relief as Steph resumed his petting with a huffed laugh.

"So. Wild chases through the streets... near drownings... boat rides with strangers... DRAGONS of all the fool things... and intoxicated, bare-footed wanderings through the dark snowy forest... have I left anything out?"

Penelope grimaced at Sister Heely's clipped, furious tone and raised her head, squinting at the light. Sister Heely's lips were pressed into a thin line and her gaze was flinty with contained anger.

"Ummm... there was a magic token, too... pretty sure it caused at least some of the mess?" Penelope confessed, screwing up her face against Sister Heely's disappointment.

"MAGIC TOKEN? For the love of hellebore, Penelope, we left you on your own for ONE afternoon, and THIS—"

"Love," Sister Rosin interrupted with a firm tone. "We talked about this, perhaps not the best time to lose our temper?" Sister Rosin glanced pointedly at their company. Marmalade was digging at her cake with a tea fork. Steph's expression was alternating between concern for Penelope, discomfort at the tension, and bemused amusement at the general situation. Marmot was huddled amongst the crockery, watching the scene warily.