Sick from exhaustion
Lucian gets sick from exhaustion and heat. Adalyn tries to help. Emeto warning.
Adalyn was nervous.
When Lucian came up with the idea to paint, it sounded good enough. Grounding and a creative hobby he could pursue from home with the additional bonus of material for her to study.
Who knew what was hidden inside a demon king’s subconscious?
He tried several different styles, from acrylic and watercolor to color by numbers and YouTube courses...but now he came up with urban sketching. Which meant he needed to go outside to do so.
They have been to the Danube River hundreds of times together before. Their apartment had a nice view of it and it was just 10 minutes away down the street.
In the first week, Lucian barely talked or reacted to things, his expression not changing. The process of getting used to physicality - assuming it was his first time and he wasn't some lost human spirit - was difficult.
Touch, sound, sight, taste. Seeing new things and colours. Adalyn held his hand through it, talked and talked like he was a frightened puppy, to guide him.
His idea that he would go alone, when she was working on a faculty presentation irritated her.
At the same time, she had no reasonable explanation to say no. He was supposed to be an independent human adult, if the pretense was to be successful.
Didn't stop her from doodling nervously over her notebook or agitated walks around their small two-room apartment.
Independence wasn't cheap.
If he was out for 30 minutes, it was boring; an hour if it was a success and he felt comfortable enough with the outside environment....
She should have put a GPS app into his phone. Or get him digital watch to do it.
What if fell into the river? What if he noticed spirits just when she wasn't looking? What if he remembered something he shouldn't?
The nightmares he was having were bad enough and at least they made no sense to him. Yet.
Not that she was doing anything illegal. By all rights, she should have vanquished Lucian before turning him into a human.
That was the initial plan. Hunt down the demon king and show his head to her family. Who is fragile and incompetent now, huh?
But she couldn't do it. He had...emotions. A sense of self. A personality and wishes and memories inside the whirlwind of demon darkness and magic. A demon of chaos driven to cause and spread it, sure, but he felt almost like a human soul.
If he had been allowed to interact with the physical world with human senses, what could he have become?
It was a waste to get rid of his existence.
She saved him. That's what she did, if someone asked. There was nothing to be ashamed of. He might even thank her for it one day.
His demon followers didn't quite agree with that. Nor the only hunter who knew what she had done.
After two hours she was restless. After 4, she was cursing her stupidity and considering looking for him.
When he finally stumbled home, the sun was setting, and she was a statue at the balcony, trying to sense him out with her spirit hunter senses.
Except the river was filled with humans that created emotion spirit clouds and full of nature, which meant plenty of element spirits. Dense and chaotic.
Maybe that's what he was naturally drawn to.
When the lock clicked, she turned to him, then stopped herself. Don't seem to eager. Don't seem worried. Keep your cool.
Lucian closed the door and then leaned against it, sketching block and a little bag with supplies in one hand, keys in the other.
"That must have been at least 15.000 steps."
Adalyn walked in from the balcony, looking him up and down for injuries.
Lucian has a pale complexion, now a bit angry red from the intense sun exposure. His brown hair has a washed out look, and his grey eyes and black circles gave him a constant exhausted look.
Since his "creation" his human body seemed...frail. Tired and sickly, washed out of all strong colours. He looked black and white, only his hair was a boring brown and even that wasn't luxurious or intense, but this unhealthy, faded out shade.
In a way, his unassuming looks were a great cover. Also a bit disappointing.
Adalyn tried to lead without criticism. "You walked so much?"
"Couldn't find the right spot. So many pretty ones. The way the light shines through the tiny leaves is wonderful..." He swayed, sliding down the door to the ground.
"Thirsty?" Without waiting for an answer, she strode to the kitchen to get him a glass of cold filtered water.
He took it and gulped it down, quicker with each sip. "Huh. I haven't realized what it was."
"What?"
"The sharp dry stinginess."
Maybe she should have started with basic human anatomy. Whole medical presentation of what to look out for...but there was no easy way to do it without questioning his humanity.
She also noted how his chalk white fingers splattered with paint trembled as he held the glass.
"When was the last time you ate?" she asked, opening the fridge. "We have the pasta from yesterday, protein yogurt, or I can make you a salad."
"It's fine. I'm not really hungry." He raised his knees up and hugged them to himself, face hidden between them as he breathed deeply. "I don't feel well."
"That could be because of the lack of food," she supplied.
"I don't feel hungry...more like...like there is something slimy climbing up my throat." He looked up at her, eyes going suddenly wide. "Is that normal?"
"So nauseous? Does your stomach feel off?" She crouched down next to him, observing him up close. His brown hair curled up from sweat, plastered to his face. Sharp cheekbones shone in the sunset shadows, highlighting how thin he looked.
Maybe she wasn't that good at taking care of him, and that's why he looked so sickly all the time.
Not that anyone had any tips on how to care of a demon.
Adalyn opened the fridge again, more for something to do than because she expected him to suddenly change his mind. "You need to eat something. You are probably having a sugar crash."
"Hm." That absent little sound irritated her more than if he argued. Like he was just observing himself from behind a glass, like it didn't involve him.
She took out the leftover pasta anyway, spooning it into a pan. Behind her, the apartment stayed quiet except for Lucian's slow breathing and the distant rush of evening traffic from the street below.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
Adalyn turned off the stove. "Lucian?"
He sat exactly where she left him, but now rigidly still, fingers digging into his sleeves. His eyes lifted to her slowly.
Something in her stomach tightened. "What is it?"
"I think..." He swallowed hard. "I think something is wrong." The words came out strained.
Adalyn crossed the kitchen in three quick steps, crouching in front of him again. Up close, his skin looked almost grey beneath the sunburn.
"What kind of wrong?"
"I don't know." His breathing became uneven. "My chest feels strange."
Panic flashed through her instantly despite herself. "Can you breathe?"
"Yes, but—" His face twisted suddenly. Lucian pressed a hand against his mouth, eyes widening in alarm.
Adalyn barely had time to grab his shoulder before he lurched sideways toward the bathroom. For someone usually so neutral in expressions, he moved with startling desperation now, nearly stumbling over the edge of the carpet.
"Lucian—"
He made a small distressed sound as she pushed the bathroom door open for him.
Then he dropped to his knees, heaving loudly over the toilet. A spurge of liquid hit liquid, the heave rocking his whole back in a wave.
Adalyn froze for half a second. Not because of disgust, just the pure shock of it.
Later she would analyse would it made her feel. In that instance, fear grabbed her chest in a vice grip as she hurried beside him, partly confused by the intensity of the fear as it blanked her usually resourceful mind.
Lucian gripped the toilet with white knuckles, breathing harshly as if the effort itself exhausted him. "Why is this happening?" he asked hoarsely.
Adalyn snapped out of it, crouching beside him in one smooth movement. Skirt of her dark blue dress whooshed behind her.
"Nothing serious. You're okay." She combed back his hair before she could think about it. Damp strands clung to her fingers. "You just overexerted yourself."
His eyes flicked toward her, unfocused and uneasy. "I thought it was healthy to spend time outside?"
Despite the situation, a disbelieving breath of laughter escaped her. "Not for five hours without food and water in direct sunlight."
"Am I... that weak?" he panted.
Something about his pathetic expression made her cold with guilt. Before she could say anything, another wave hit him.
Lucian bent forward with a choked breath, shoulders tensing violently. Much chunkier stream hit the toilet, the stench filling the small room.
Adaly automatically flushed it, hesistantly reaching for his trembling back.
He was burning up. The realization made her frown. How long had he been wandering around exhausted before coming home? Why hadn't he just picked a place in the shade to draw? It wasn't supposed to be this risky to let him out of her sight.
When he finally slumped back again, breathing shallowly, he looked genuinely frightened. Not embarrassed. His grey eyes were shiny with moisture and he pressed a panicked hand against his chest. "I don't like this," he whined.
Something in her chest pulled painfully tight.
Because he said it with the same lost confusion as someone trapped in unfamiliar clothes that suddenly pulled him to the bottom.
Adalyn grabbed a towel from the sink, wetting it with cold water before pressing it gently against the back of his neck.
Lucian flinched.
Then visibly melted toward the coolness.
"Better?"
"...Yes."
His voice sounded smaller than usual.
He leaned weakly against the wall next to the toilet, eyes half-lidded from exhaustion while she stayed crouched beside him. He eyed the toilet in disgust, burping softly under his nose.
The bathroom light painted harsh shadows across his face, emphasizing the sharpness of his cheekbones and the dark circles beneath his eyes.
Too thin.
The thought came suddenly and uncomfortably.
Too pale. Too tired. Too breakable.
She had been so focused on whether he could become human that she hadn't stopped to consider whether this body was surviving it properly.
Lucian opened his eyes again slowly, giving her a pleading look. "Am I very sick?"
She heard the helplessness in that question. Help me. Make it stop. Save me as you have been doing.
The responsibility crashed into her like a freight train.
"Shhh. It's going to be over soon. You'll be just fine."
