Sick Bird (Completed)

Fear

Scar pov:

As Grian was asleep, I was left to my own devices. But to be honest, I didn't know what to do. Mumbo was busy, so I couldn't talk to him. I thought about inviting one of my friends over, but... I didn't really know where "here" was. I looked through the kitchen to see if I could make anything. I found an old cookbook in one of the empty cabinets. As I flipped through the book carefully, the pages were so fragile. I looked on the inside cover and saw a small smudge that looked like a name. It was hard to tell what the name was, but I noticed something behind one of the linings of the cover. There was a picture.

I very carefully pulled it out to see a group of schoolboys, one of them obviously Grian, but the other two I didn't recognize. I flipped the picture over to see if maybe there was writing on the back of it. There wasn't. I carefully tucked the picture back into the lining of the cookbook, being very careful with it, and put it back where I had found it.

I continued to look for something to do, eventually deciding to make homemade pasta to add to the broth of chicken noodle soup. I spent about three hours making the stock so it would be hearty and healthy for him. I was about three hours into making the stock and about an hour into making the pasta when I heard shuffling from the sofa over to the kitchen. I heard a chair squeak across the floor before someone climbed up on it and then put their head down on the counter.

"Good afternoon, Grian," I said to him, but he just seemed so out of it. I got some medicine and put it in front of him. He stared at it, very confused, before forcing himself to sit up and actually take it.

""Yuck..." he mumbled a little bit but still took the medicine. I made sure to actually check when he was supposed to take it. It was made specifically for him, I noticed, by Doc. I was very curious about Doc, but for right now, I had a job to do.

I continued to knead the pasta dough. I could feel I was being watched, but more out of intrigue than anything. "You know how to make... What are you making?" he asked curiously, clearly tired as he was still wrapped up in a blanket. His feathered ears showed his interest in what I was doing.

"Pasta. And chicken stock so that way there's plenty of chicken noodle soup for you," I said. He looked so intrigued, almost like a curious puppy. It made my heart jump a little bit, not going to lie. How could something capable of such massacre and slaughter be so cute?

Grian leaned his head on his hand, still watching me. "You're really going all out, huh?" he said, his voice a bit stronger now but still tired.

"Well, you need to get better. And besides, I enjoy cooking. It's kind of relaxing, although my favorite thing is baking. I love baking cookies," I said honestly, shifting my attention to the broth.

"I once made cookies that could teleport you, although they weren't very strong and honestly didn't really work," I admitted truthfully, continuing to mix the broth. "I couldn't figure out why they weren't working. I ended up making myself sick off of those cookies," I added with a laugh.

Grian's nasally chuckle caught me off guard, nearly disguised behind his blanket as he pretended to cough. It was a small moment of levity in the midst of his illness.

"Yeah, teleporting cookies sound like a recipe for disaster," he replied, his voice still slightly hoarse but amused. "Maybe stick to cooking for now."

I grinned, relieved to see him engage even slightly in our conversation. "Definitely. Cooking seems a bit safer." I couldn't help but notice how rough he sounded, like he'd been gargling nails. Whatever had gotten him sick had hit him hard. He tried not to speak too much, and I ended up fetching a glass of water for him, though he didn't seem particularly interested in it.