As a vampire, sickness was virtually unheard of. The ashen haired woman lost within the unfamiliar assault upon her body. All accompanied with a brush of a lonely youthful memory when she caught sickness in search for her pet in the miserable rain. Why? She hardly knew why she thought of it now.. Why she remembered how it felt as if it were yesterday? Certainly she had been through enough, suffering through starvation and now sickness.. than to be plagued with memories now. Was this someone's idea of a cruel joke. Petra hugged herself in false comfort as her unique teal eyes nearly unable to focus upon Sebastian at all. If anyone could fix this, she was so very assured it was him... Such a blind faith she had in that vampire now even though somehow, all of this... was entirely his fault and perhaps equally her own. She should have never touched that wretched substance. His voice navigates through the fog of her mind, that reality that she might be dying gripping her near resolutely. Dying then, at least for her.. was under desperate duress. It was violent and cold... and brutal to most standards. "It is not the same." She raised her gaze to look upon her companion, his face just as unwell as her own, her voice softening, a haunted sound. Perhaps now was not the time to recall those memories, memories that seemed to needle its way within her already flooded mind. How that night she would rather cast out from memory entirely, a deep concern frown drew her brows together, that sickness making swift work to inflict that slow persistent misery upon her.

It was when Dorian, the ever curious fae had joined them, ensnaring her attention perhaps far too much. Especially the way the duo so interacted with one another. Those emotions she so desperately wanted to understand. It was the way they interacted with one another that seemed to draw her attention toward them further and if she could injected herself between them to get a closer look she would have. Such simple human adoration.... And concern both notions had been so very.... Deprived from her life. The curious vampire nearly considering questioning it out loud and yet the miserable feeling she felt surpassed it. Yet how does one explain what she saw? It was genuine and gentle, so very lacking in anything she had known... Her head tipping to the side in slightly, inquisitive in her observances which only seemed hazy in the wake of her illness... even as she all but stared. Perhaps her illusions could replicate it some how, she wondered to herself. And yet even she couldn't deny that it was beautiful, perhaps even endearing. Both things entirely foreign to her. She could have watched it for hours, studying it, prodding at it as if trying to make sense of the human connection. Certainly not something she could make sense of tonight, feeling like this.

So lost into that scene before she was almost taken completely off guard from that violent sneeze so suddenly assaulted her, losing grip of those powers that had once been stored away. It burst from her with such rapid force she thought her head might explode. What kind of horrible sensation was that? It stole her attention upon them. Much to her dismay that very sneeze had unrattled the control of her powers, they leaked within that beautiful massive home uncontrollably so that they were suddenly in the damp streets of Paris with a suddenness, reality appearing to bend to a will of its own, with her as its conduit. She hardly intended for it to happen, the look upon her drawn, sickly expression said that much. How it made her almost uneasy when all she wanted when she was sick, was a thread of comfort. Yet how she would know that is what she had wanted was hardly clear within her mind. But certainly, Paris was someone else's comfort. The woman she had fed from, her illusions used to sooth the shop keeper whilst she fed. How good she tasted. That woman's blood was like water... to a severely dehydrated, starving man in the desert. Perhaps it was her body's way of saying she was still hungry. After all, she had been starved for weeks.... She needed more.. she was sure of it, especially when that neon slime so poisoned them slowly she needed that strength in which sustenance could give. Even though it was washed from their skin, it still worked relentlessly, wreaking havoc within their immortal systems that were supposed to be impervious to disease. Apparently not that impervious.

Petra was entirely oblivious to the fae monarch's discomfort in her presence, in the wake of that sickness and other more prominent. Her throat hurt, raw and enflamed, which only caused the woman to bring her hand to it near gently as if massaging it would have somehow alleviated its pain. Unfortunately, it did not. It was Dorian who seemed to voice his concerns to his husband, content to ignore Petra herself even with that conjured politeness that was offered to her. Even see could see her presence was hardly wanted.

Sebastian still attempting to calm his husband, to comfort him, explaining her illusions, his concern only for that of his husband even while ill. She could see him struggling with the words trying to explain the enigmatic woman that now existed within their own... and those possessed powers she wielded.

Another sneeze caught her off guard once more, this one a little less severe as the first. But truly what was reality? Was it all merely one's perception? No two people destined to see the same thing. At the very least they were back again within their familiar home space. At least this time, the damage was far less as the chicken walked about their feet.

The woman wanted comfort and in her subconscious mind she summoned a chicken, the creature perhaps only significant only to her.. It looked identical to the one she had as a child, down to the last feather. Its feathers appeared just as luscious as she remembered.. Somehow the woman could determine it from a thousand other chickens even now. How she wished to go to it.. but god, everything hurt.. all she wished to do was sink to the floor and curl into a ball. It was then Sebastian seemed to chastise her about the misplaced bird, her brows seemed to furrow. That was not very nice. This was HER chicken after all (somehow making this chicken special). It was far cleaner than the Paris streets she was so sure of it!

That pressure in her head hardly helping. She blinked back some strange emotion that rose within her. They were dying, or something close to it and all Sebastian could do was worry about their carpet. He didn't care about that chicken... or even her. Petra's lip quivered... her nose feeling a strange tickle. What were these strange emotions? Cursed and wretched as they were.

Suddenly, her eyes began to leak salty wet tears. What were those? Oh no.. she was leaking... She was so overwhelmed she could hardly focus on Dorian's worried questions uttered to his Sebastian. That desperation and concern all but leaking from him in a cocktail quite close to anxiety, sweet delicious heightened emotions so speaking to the predator with her. But she was so very... sad... and sick..

Then a question poised to them both about blood and her face was slick with tears, her fingers drew up to her tears only to pull back to see it glistening upon her fingertips.. Void of red... "No... yes... I don't know.. I think I am.. I am leaking from my eyes... Is it blood?" Her voice was pitiful as she felt, sniffling and trying to keep everything at bay somehow. She lowered to the ground, that chicken seemed to act just as her pet did in life did and jumped into her arms. She hugged it loosely creating her own semblance of comfort. Those illusions were as real as the real thing, even to her. She allowed her fingers to feel those luscious feathers as she sniffled back a shallow sob. What was wrong with her?

It was then that... that heartbeat, made that stutter... Dorian's distracting heart seemingly going out of its way to garner her attention. Her tears nearly halting in their tracks. Did Sebastian not notice that loud heart beat? If only she could properly smell it. She moved closer, ever so slightly as that chicken in her arms clucking softly.

Suddenly it was Dorians voice boomed over the quiet, even though it was a voice of authority, it was like he yelled! That sudden burst of word nearly made the vampire jump, wincing at the sound. Closing her eyes and averting her teal hued yes, she turned her cheek as if retreating from that very idea. How unpleasant. It distracted her of that lure of that fae blood that seemed to be all but beckoning her. Maybe... if she just had a tiny bite a little later... maybe it would make all of this feel better? What if he was the cure to these ailments. Surely Sebastian would understand.

It was then suddenly another man, Charles, the one she had met before so briefly appeared. His heartbeat hammering even worse than Dorian's. how had she not noticed him before. She sniffled, trying to capture a better scent but it was frustratingly hindered by nearly blocked sinuses.

There was suddenly a flurry of activity. She wanted it to stop... Her world near rapidly spinning with it.

Dorian grabbed his husband's hand in another moment, that gesture as sweet as it was, was still one of ownership. What on earth would a doctor do? As though medicine to cure them. Although, sitting down did seem... appealing. Her body seemed impossibly heavy at the mention of tea. What a bizarre beverage to offer. She was quite certain that offer was not intended for her and yet she questioned it all the same. "Tea? What about blankets? May I have a blanket, maybe multiple blankets? I think I would prefer one over your healer.. If I am to die.. I would like to be comfortable.." She questioned, what on earth would that do? Blankets seemed just as appealing as the warmth of tea, she was sure that there was no healer capable of healing probable death.. But even more so.. why not the warmth of blood over tea? She seemed almost confused. When was the last time anyone asked her to stay... anywhere? She wrinkled her nose at the thought, sniffling once more.

She all but stared at the emotionally distressed fae, if she didn't speak those words, her dull eyes certainly displayed such longing. That anxiety rolling off of him, making him appear increasingly like prey. That flutter of his heart, racing away saw to her grip upon her illusionary chicken to tighten. Yes.. blood.. that would solve everything, those instincts seem to gnaw ever so increasingly. Maybe... if she just got a little closer. The illusionist seemed ever aware of Dorian in that moment. That worry and contained panic could not fool his heartbeat. How that sound alone would have been enough to hone her predatory sights upon the fae king. She took another step closer to the fae and then another one.. How close she hovered, the chicken in her arms... giving her away. "I was wondering..." She asked.. she was so very sure... he would not allow her to bite Dorian.. his possession over him palpable. "Am I allowed to eat Charles?" She asked ever so softly, perhaps a little bit of hope lining the edges of her words.

petra ambrose