Violet
His fever faded slowly, until touching him no longer felt like pressing my palm against a fire. The sweating reduced too, from the constant drenching that had soaked through everything to occasional dampness that I could manage with a cloth.
The black veins were fading faster now too, but his wounds still hadn't really healed. They remained angry and swollen, and the bruising across his back and side was still a mottled mess of purple.
Still, the most important thing was that the poison was leaving his system.
I found myself dozing off more and more. At first it was just moments here and there, my head nodding forward before I jerked awake. Then it became longer stretches, my body finally surrendering to the rest it had been denied.
He still asked for my lap whenever he came awake. His voice was stronger now, less of a rasp, but the request remained the same.
It had become... comfortable.
I tried not to think about what that meant.
