doctor, doctor, will I die?

lily from what i’ve tasted of desire i hold with those who favor fire Lily should be moved by the dragon, should react to the baring of teeth and roar with something from either her flight or fight response, but in this case, she can only manage a freeze, closing her eyes tightly against the display. She can’t be bothered to do more than that, too tired to rage back. Man, those sweaters look warm. Where can she get her some of those? Managing a weak smile as Phoebe greets her, thoroughly missing the midwife’s own pallid complexion and dark circles, Lily shrugs. “I’m sick. Have been for a couple of weeks. No matter how much rest I get, it doesn’t seem to get better.” She ticks off the other symptoms on long, delicate fingers that for now, are steady. “I had a fever, too. And am rarely hungry.” Which could be anything, really. Lily isn’t a medical professional, she just knows that there aren’t any spots on her, so it isn’t smallpox, scarlet fever or the plague. No flux of the bowels, so it isn’t dysentery. And no cough, so it isn’t consumption. That leaves… what? Could it be some mysterious, Caidonite disease? A shiver runs through her body. The vibrant flame of the entertainer is noticeably dimmer.