*Trigger warning: at one point, Jefferson takes a jab at two-spirited people and Native American culture. Also, if you've not already realized, Indians is how Jefferson and all the old timey people refer to Native Americans.
*Vanishing from the face of WP for months is not a hobby, it's a lifestyle
Tuberculosis was known as 'phthisis' and 'consumption' from Hippocrates through to the 18th century.
-History of Tuberculosis, Part 1
---
Cassandra falls in a way that makes it seem she shall never rise again. And given her bloodied state, Jefferson is sure there could be some truth to that.
He attempts to raise himself, and fails. His legs shake, his hands cannot manage either. His lungs do not take in enough air, and his head is no better- he sits still, yet the green world seems to spin around him as if he were the centre of it all.
"Let's never do that again," Cassandra slurs through her beaten lips, and Jefferson finds himself agreeing. Layden shakily nods, and coughs, his brown hair somehow gotten loose, and falls on the moss as well. The only one that does not seem exhausted by their sudden trip is Angelica, who already managed to scramble up to her feet.
Jefferson's eyes don't follow her- they're stuck to the sky- and he only hears her jumping around, and, eventually, a breathless 'oof' from Layden.
"Are you dying?" She asks. "Again?"
"I... amn't, my dear," he answers after a long pause. "I just... need a... few moments."
They all do. Jefferson falls back- his hair splays across the moss, and it shall be horrid to comb back later. But that is later.
The branches above them are lush, though dark. Different wildflowers litter the land, creeping up trees and dotting the floor. A family of morels grow by his left hand- when he pushes one, bits of mycelium show through the rotting fungi. It must be late summer. A goldfinch lands on a branch of a flowery tree, next to some butterflyweed- not Virginian or Carolinian- chirping once or twice before flying away.
Where in the world are they now?
"Why is this forest so thick?" Angelica asked. Her eyes near pop out their sockets as she points her fingers past Jefferson.
Oh. Oh.
Jefferson turns his head to where Angelica is pointing, and his stomach drops. Through the flat leaves of a young birch opens a view of a dense forest, and- oh. Only a bit lower down opens a massive plane of a chopped down landscape.
"Joy," He mutters. A bug crawls in his hair. "We have to be on Mount Joy."
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he believes Cassandra would cry if she knew what that meant, but she doesn't. Additionally, she is fast asleep.
Jefferson follows soon after.
---
He's the first to awake. Perhaps t'was the woodpecker nearby that woke him, or the uneasy feeling of wet clothing on his skin. Dew hangs off of his eyelashes- the rest of his body is moist, as well.
The sun has not risen yet. The birdsong tells him that it must not yet be five. Jefferson sighs, and sits up. His back protests at such an impromptu nap in the woodlands, and he knows he shall feel those consequences for at least a month.
His movement scares away a nearby fox. He takes a second to breathe in the air, hold it in his lungs, exhale.
He stands up with almost no problem this time, shaking off leaves from him coat. With much difficultly, releases his untidy hair from his queue, and ties it back again. A bird could nest in it with how messy it was, but t'was better than having it down.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Realities- Historical Hamilton
FanfictionThe fifth of July has been a chaotic day for America. When Irene Laizaitė comes crashing through the White House from the sky, many people had questions- and Cassandra Carter's job is to find answers, no matter how bizarre they are. Jefferson was in...
