Take my petals and cover me with the night.

[likeblueblazes]

After nearly a week in the hospital, Ophelia finds herself released back home at last. Under certain conditions, of course. The doctors told her that she would still require extensive amounts of rest. They tell her that she is allowed to move around her own apartment, provided that she doesn't move around too much. Essentially, they place her on bed rest without explicitly stating as much, complete with knowing, damning looks. The de Luce-ness of such instructions infuriates her; she might as well be placed under house arrest, or so it feels to Ophelia.

Of course she exerts herself too much once she arrives back in her apartment; she has to call Miss Cordelia to inform her of everything, first of all. Miss Cordelia, naturally, insists on coming over and seeing Ophelia for herself. Ophelia endures nearly three hours of her boss mother henning her - from cooking for her to tidying up a bit in the kitchen. And then nearly another hour of discussing potential venues for the piano recital.

By the time Miss Cordelia leaves, Ophelia feels the weariness settle into her bones. Her neck aches from beneath the bandages covering it, and dizziness follows her every step. She ignores the medication they sent her home with, knowing it will only put her right to sleep. Instead, she makes her way to the piano, where she plays an assortment of her favorite songs, until a knock on the door interrupts her playing.

"Coming," she calls out, her voice still weak and ragged from her injuries. At the very least, a visitor should energize her. She hopes.

Comments

[propertool]

Dorian is at Ophelia's door. And, not knowing that she's just spent the better part of three hours being mother-henned by her boss, he starts in as well as soon as she opens the door, giving her a surprised and incensed look of aghast concern.

"Are you here alone? With nobody tending to you?"

He has a box tucked under his arm, covered in white paper, with pale seafoam green ribbons. A get-well-soon present. Dorian wants to argue that Ophelia would get better sooner if she were sitting in bed.

[likeblueblazes]

"I can tend to myself perfectly well, thank you," she says. The words would come out righteously indignant if Ophelia weren't so exhausted, both from just getting out of the hospital and her boss' visit. That, and ignoring her medication, which still sits untouched on her kitchen counter. Instead, her words come out like an elongated yawn.

But she moves aside graciously to let Dorian in, more grateful for the company than she lets on. Possibly the worst part about staying at the hospital was falling asleep alone at night surrounded by machines and nurses speaking in hushed tones around her.

"But thank you for coming by," she says, noticing the box he carries under his arm. "Is that for me?"

[propertool]

"If the young lady insists," Dorian says, in a tone that suggests that he is mostly not arguing because he has heard her tone and does not want to push the subject an inch further. It's too easy for worry to take him over, even when dealing with someone he knows barely further than acquaintance. Worry makes him bossy and frustrated. He knows no other, more healthy, way to cope with it.

He waits for her to step aside before moving in, not wanting to do so without her permission. He is only too aware that it wouldn't be appropriate, with his age, to invite himself.

"It is for you. I thought I might bring you something to brighten up your room."

He holds it out to her with a small, courtly bow and a flourish of a hand. Inside the box, gently wrapped, is a vase filled with flowers -- not normal flowers, but crystal-clear lilies, finely crafted out of ice, enchanted to not melt in the heat of late spring. A parlor trick, to someone with powers like Dorian's, something his father would have despised. Making them pleased Dorian, though.

[likeblueblazes]

"This young lady does," Ophelia replies, stifling another yawn as she easily steps aside to let him pass. She really ought to be sitting down at least, but the stubborn part of her refuses to give in to her body's demands. She's spent so much of this week confined to a hospital bed as it is; she rather relishes the ability to walk around. And then, she realizes. she is acting as quite the poor hostess.

"Can I get you anything to drink? I have tea, coffee, or wine, if you'd like," she says.

She can't resist smiling at his mannerisms as he holds the box out to her, taking it delicately in her turn. She gently unwraps the parcel, curious as to what it might contain. When she sees the flowers, the shimmering ice glistening beneath her apartment lights, she gasps. He seems to have given her a bouquet of ice flowers, like some prince out of a fairy tale.

"Oh, Dorian, they're beautiful," she breathes, marveling at their glassy grace. Her expression brightens, and her whole mood lifts at the sight of them.

[propertool]

"Wine," Dorian says, a little too quickly and a little too automatically, before wondering if he ought not correct himself. He does. He doesn't want to give someone Ophelia's age any bad examples. Despite the fact that he is a walking bad example.

"Tea, I mean. I can make it, if you tell me where everything is in the kitchen? So long as you don't mind that mine has the consistency and strength of a punch in the jaw. Biffy has already complained," he says, airily.

"And I'm glad that you like them." His face shifts by inches, warming around the eyes in uncertain satisfaction. It's not often that someone is impressed by what he has to offer. "They aren't much. I'm talented. They won't melt, either, though they are rather fragile. I'm a mage, not a miracle worker, after all."

[spirit_of_vitriol]

As she locked Gladys to the bicycle rack, she saw Feely's employer--the reason, Flavia knew, her sister had been put in danger at all. She wished they hadn't used all the liquid nitrogen at the party; a solid dousing in the stuff would serve Miss Capulet right. As it was, she brushed past her on her way inside, offering nothing more than a narrow-eyed glare and a "Cordelia" in greeting, said as frostily as she could manage.

It was, Flavia hoped, even more damaging than freezing her with super-chilled chemicals could ever be.

Knocking on Ophelia's door, she listens carefully for the sound of anything amiss--a task she concentrates on so completely, she almost falls over in surprise as the door opens. "I brought you ice cream," she says once she's recovered, holding up a small cooler. "From the party."

[likeblueblazes]

Ophelia is not expecting to find Flavia awaiting her on the other side of the door, let alone Flavia awaiting with ice cream from the party she couldn't attend. For a moment, Ophelia just stares at her younger sister; their spat (to put it politely) in the hospital room earlier in the week still lingers in the back of her mind. She doesn't know how to react, for a second that feels like an eternity.

"Well, come in then," she says, her tone uneven as she steps aside to let Flavia pass. "Don't want it melting now, do we?"

"And how was your party?" She manages, after another moment.

[spirit_of_vitriol]

That her sister doesn't just slam the door in her face upon seeing her is merely just the next surprise in what's already turned out to be a visit full of them. Flavia, too, remembers all the things they said to one another in the wake of Feely's attack; the caustic words borne of anger, and fear, and so many years of silent suffering. Neither one of them deserved it, especially not then--perhaps not ever.

It's that thought that sets her into motion, crossing the threshold into the apartment, passing Feely with an air of unconcern--immediately ruined by the concerned glance Flavia gives the bandages still at her throat. "It wouldn't taste quite as good melted," she agrees quietly, setting the cooler down on the kitchen counter and busying herself with unlatching the lid.

"The party was lovely," she says, adding after a moment, "You were missed." She doesn't bother clarifying by whom; let Feely draw her own conclusions.

[likeblueblazes]

She remembers too well the sheer weight of the silence following their exchange of horrifying words. The tears running down her face and the sobs wracking her chest as Flavia watched. The tears in Flavia's own eyes, and the way the pair of them, two sisters, long since bound by grief and tragedy, collapsed into their own special brand of misery, inherited from the de Luce legacy.

But she's not going to allow those memories to intrude on her today. Not now.

Ophelia puts her hand to her neck instinctively at Flavia's glance, wondering if one of the bandages tore open. Pulling her hand away with no blood, she is startled to recognize the genuine concern in her little sister's face. She covers it up by turning her attention towards a strand of hair, which she casually moves out of her face.

"Did you get many presents then?" She asks, wondering just how many people showed for the party as she watches Flavia take the ice cream out. If she knows her sister and her popularity here, probably quite a few.

The last mention makes her blush, and she is quick to turn her gaze to a far off sight out the window.

[thecautionarywhale]

Juno's been to the hospital to see her friend, had brought flowers and everything. But hospitals remind her of a time she'd rather put behind her, and she's happier to see Ophelia when she's home.

When the door opens, she holds out a box. "I brought cupcakes. From that place down by the record shop. There's salted caramel, and buttercream, and strawberry, and a couple other things. Frosting always makes evrything better, right?"

[likeblueblazes]

Ophelia has seen Juno throughout the week; she still has her flowers, set in a vase on her kitchen counter. She smiles every time they catch her eye in the kitchen. Still, she's happier to see her friend at home, away from the sterile environment and the feeling of death around every corner.

"Oh my God, you are a saint, Juno," she tells her, delighted by the sight of the cupcakes not in the least because she happens to be hungering for something sweet. "Shall I make tea and we can stuff our faces, as you Americans like to say?"

[thecautionarywhale]

"Possibly the first time I've been called a saint, but I'll take it," she laughs, waving Ophelia toward the couch. It's too soon for the other girl to be up and making things. "You sit. I'll make. I mean, I have figured out tea half-decently."

[likeblueblazes]

"Well, it's the truth," she tells her as they make their way further into the apartment. She wants to argue when the other girl waves her towards the couch, but Ophelia finds herself suddenly overcome by a wave of dizziness.

"Alright," she says, sinking down into her sofa without protest. "If you insist."

[modern_alpha]

"Hello, Miss Ophelia," Biffy said, smiling politely from the doorway. Though he'd visited at the hospital, it was delightful to see her at home and ostensibly on the way to recovery and working on something she enjoyed. His extra sensitive hearing had picked up the melody from several yards away and thought it lovely.

"I come bearing gifts," he said, holding up the small care package he'd arranged of a few fashion magazines, a box of chocolate bars, and--because he'd been in a cheeky mood--two new handkerchiefs, monogrammed with Ophelia's name.

[likeblueblazes]

"Biffy!" Ophelia all but flings open the door at the sight of her friend, delighted to see him under decidedly more cheerful circumstances. "Oh, do come in, won't you?"

She moves aside to let him pass, mood instantly uplifted by his presence.

"Oh, thank you!" Her grin brightens at the sight of his care package; she is so lucky to have such a thoughtful gentleman for a friend. "Oh, look, even my own personalized pocket squares!"

She lets out a delighted laugh at that.

"Would you like some tea?"

[modern_alpha]

"I did say we'd have that talk, didn't I?" Biffy said, clearly relieved to see her up and about. It had been so dreadful, seeing her fallen and covered in blood. He'd forgotten, Biffy realized, just how unpleasant it could be, being only mortal. One was so weak and took so long to heal and he'd taken his wolfy nature for granted.

"And tea would be grand!"

[likeblueblazes]

"That you did," she allows, the corners of her eyes sparkling with mirth. She is certainly still very much exhausted, but just having a dear friend with her lends her the energy she needs to make it through the day. And the fact that they can tease so also helps to improve her spirits.

"Excellent!" She exclaims, leading him over to the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on now, then."

[pylades_drunk]

"I hope I'm not bothering you," Grantaire says, when she opens the door. He rarely worries overly much about bothering anyone, but she doesn't know him quite well enough to just inflict himself on. "I'd heard about your brush with the supernatural and thought I'd come to see how you're recovering."

Jehan had told him, of course, and once he'd gotten past vampires? he'd made up his mind to go visit. They weren't great friends, yet, but Ophelia had been kind to him with no reason for it on a night it was welcome, and besides, anyone who makes his friends happy is welcome in Grantaire's life.

"I think you're supposed to bring flowers to the ill, but I know if I were told to rest I'd be more desperate for drawing paper." He holds up a couple books he'd found at the used bookstore: one that's just blank staff paper, and one that's apparently film themes for piano. "I heard you like music, so I thought this might be entertaining."

[likeblueblazes]

"Oh," Ophelia says, pleasantly surprised to find Grantaire on the other side of the door. A faint blush rises when she realizes that Jehan must have told him about her attack the other night. "Hello again, monsieur. No, you're not a bother at all. Won't you come in? Any friend of Jehan's is a friend of mine."

She stands aside to let him pass, holding the door open for him. She doesn't know Grantaire well, but she would very much like to. It is kind of him to visit like this, and it only endears him the more to her.

Her eyes brighten when he holds up the books he's brought with him. "Oh, goodness. Thank you so much! You didn't have to bring me anything," she says, delighted by the sheet music and the blank paper both. "That is most kind of you."

[pylades_drunk]

"Thank you," he says, and smiles. "Likewise." He's probably supposed to, as a good friend to someone, be wary of her -- of his heart ending up broken in some way. But they both seem ridiculously fond of each other, and even if love is something Grantaire's increasingly unwilling to trust his own heart to, he can't bring himself to begrudge or suspect a happy couple right now.

And as much as Jehan can romanticize, he's also usually discerning. His trust of Ophelia makes R more interested in knowing her, on her own as well as as his friend's girlfriend.

He beams when her eyes light up, glad to please. "Of course," he handwaves. "Being stuck inside is tedious and you deserve some entertainment of the less-violent kind."

[likeblueblazes]

"Thank you," she tells him in reply, offering him another smile. Even though she has only recently made the acquaintance of Grantaire, she finds herself quite eager to get to know him better, and not just because of their mutual connection in Jehan. His gift of music alone makes her appreciate his thoughtfulness and to get to know him more thoroughly as a person and new friend.

"I appreciate it very much," she tells him, clutching the books close to her chest as though they could shield her from future attacks. "And tedious is one way to put it. I've only been home a week and I'm already losing my mind."

She walks over to the kitchen, to begin making tea, if he should want any.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

[confidenceman]

On the occasions that Sawyer becomes aware of his girls getting in trouble, there's nothing that he wants more than to stick his own neck out in their place. Ophelia isn't as much his girl as the other two, not because of any lack of sentiment so much as the fact that she was already mostly grown by the time they knew one another, but Sawyer still finds himself hovering after her nonetheless. Unlike the other two girls, he doesn't have the right to make her stay home, or return to an area that's safer. She's more or less free to wander off on her own.

And Darrow isn't safe enough to guarantee that every time will be unscathed.

He's debated about when he should visit her in the wake of her attack. He visited the hospital a couple of times, mostly when Ophelia was still asleep, but now he regrets not having made his concern more clear. Hopefully, he thinks to himself, the large bouquet of flowers he holds will be enough to tide her over.

"It's Sawyer," he says, loud enough for her to hear through the door.

[likeblueblazes]

Ophelia hasn't seen much of Sawyer as of late; guiltily, she recalls one of their last conversations, and how coldly she'd treated him for all of what he confessed to her. She's been meaning to make the effort to visit him at Dimera, herself, but her recent attack obviously put a halt to those plans. She hasn't known him as long as Flavia has, but the fact remains that, even as his past shocked and scandalized her, he remains the closest thing to a father figure she has in her life. And after her run-in with vampires, she finds herself truly hopeful that she might see him soon, even as he had visited her in the hospital. Mostly, she'd been sleeping. They hadn't gotten the chance for conversation.

So when he announces himself before she can turn open the door, Ophelia perks up. Happiness swells within her, and she feels less dead on her own feet.

"Sawyer?" She says, pulling back the door to find the man standing on the other side with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "Oh, those are beautiful. Do come in."

She stands aside to let him pass, brightened by the prospect of his visit.

[confidenceman]

"Hey, chère," Sawyer says with a breath of relief. Even though Ophelia certainly looks like she's seen better days, the fact that she's up and smiling is more than enough for him to have the confidence that she'll be fine again. She just needs more time to pass. Just needs more space to heal. And he fully intends on helping her the rest of the way.

"I thought I'd stop by to check up on you. Brighten your place. Offer to cook you some dinner, if you're hungry," he adds with a look that makes it clear that he fully intends to make sure that she has enough to eat. "It's a hell of a thing to be cooped up, but maybe watching someone stumble around cluelessly can make your day a lil' better."

He reaches out to ruffle her hair lightly as soon as she takes the bouquet. "How are you feeling?"

[likeblueblazes]

She can hear the relief in his voice; it strikes a nerve in her, and she has to concentrate to keep her smile from wobbling at the thought of causing Sawyer any more distress. Still, his presence is a blessing, especially after her extended amount of time with an overly invested boss who seemed incapable of taking any hints. Letting Sawyer in, Ophelia feels better able to relax and breath again.

"Well, the apartment certainly is brighter with you in it," Ophelia says. At the mentioning of food, she perks up. Though she might smile while on her feet, there is only so much she can do with the energy she has to spare. "And if you're offering, I would absolutely love dinner, thank you."

Her grin widens at the hair ruffling, though she does her best to appear calm and collected. She hugs the bouquet close to her the way she once clutched at her childhood blanket.

"I've been better," she admits. "I'm still feeling rather...under the weather."