not welcome here [c]

Any rare sort of improvement in Elijah's general state never came with relief. He had learned not to care for the way the pressure around his head eased, because it never lasted. Still, even if he disliked it, he would leave his room, on those seldom occasions - staying away from people, of course. Fresh air was welcome, on those days, a simple reminder that the world around himself had not collapsed or burned in the weeks of isolation. A silly thing to wonder, perhaps, but these were the sort of thoughts that bubbled in his mind when he had nothing else to think about. Nervousness mingling with a hint of excitement, he headed outside.

The path under his worn rain boots was slightly soggy, the air crisp, clean and cold. The conservatory was lonely, as much as he saw from the outside, illuminated by the first light of dawn - better be early and avoid the stray students that found their way to the same place later in the day. Not that he disliked them, they were good people, mostly. Someone had to care for the plants, in the end, and he was smart enough to avoid them, to stay on the outside and watch. One day he'd like to touch the petals of a flower, and not have it shrivel in his hand - maybe even have his own patch of flowers. That's what mother used to have. What a silly thought. Hunched, studying each and every one of the plants he could see from the outside, Elijah circled the greenhouse a couple of times, trailing his cane behind himself in the mud, leaving a line carved into the ground.

A headache still nursed itself in the back of his head, quietly. He didn't want to focus on it, to give it enough attention that it grew. If he was lucky, he'd have a day spent without much bother from his otherwise constant pains, but there was never a way to tell when his stability would end. He'd gotten too close to the conservatory now, he noticed too late, and one of the plants near the transparent wall had begun to wilt, slowly, but altogether too fast, and he pulled back abruptly enough that his entire mind spun (and so did his body), landing him in the mud. How great - and he was even wearing his favorite sweater, the green one with flowers and a new splash of mud on its side. He certainly didn't want to be outside that much, anymore.

There was a wordless beauty in watching the sun rise over a garden, one that people rarely witnessed in their lives. Something about the act made you feel like the only person in the world - people were rarely up by that time, so it was an understandable feeling. It was a special moment of Amira's own life that she occasionally indulged in. Perhaps it was the fact that in feeling the plants pain, she understood their yearning for the sun in a way most people couldn't. As the first real rays of light pierced through the Conservatory's glass walls, Amira thought she could feel the plants reaching towards the light, opening up just slightly and taking it in.

But maybe that was just her.

Clutching the sleeves of her soft yellow cardigan around her, she idly surveyed the plants before her. Since she and Reed had fixed the watering system, all of the plants had been thriving nicely. She touched the leaf of the plant that she had previously healed, noting with pleasure that it seemed to be doing much better now. Then, before her it began to wilt slowly. Her eyes widened and she pulled away sharply, thinking with horror that somehow it was because of her. Suddenly she heard a commotion outside - something entirely out of place in the stillness of the morning. Looking up, she saw a boy laid out in the mud, and a soft gasp escaped her lips before she hurried out to him immediately.

"Are you alright?" She began as she crouched down in front of him, no concern for the mud. Clear worry was evident in her face, and she reached out without thinking, her fingers just briefly brushing against his knee.

The sky was beautiful - pale blue, breaking through the darker shades of the past nights, dotted with fine, soft-looking clouds. For a moment, Elijah wanted to just stay down and stare, to believe he had decided to lie down and admire the sight, by his own volition. But the ground underneath himself was cold and sticky, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of dread in his stomach, the pain in his back, and the growing headache that accompanied the impact. And the guilt - he felt very guilty, because now someone was going to find that beautiful plant dead. All his fault. Not the first in many times, the Winter wished he could melt into the ground, let it turn him into something with a higher purpose.

In the grass that must've already started to gain a much unhealthier color ever since he fell, his hand searched for his cane, finding it not far away from his head. Everything was (wasn't) fine, and he could just get up and walk back to his dorm to wash off the mud and eat yesterday's leftovers, forget this ever happened. His fragile shell of a plan fell apart though, the instant he heard the door of the conservatory open, someone's footstep on the ground nearing him. Voice underused, croaky and insecure, he simply made some sort of sound, must like an alarmed squirrel's, the second she brushed her hand against his knee, his headache becoming milder for a second before turning ear-splitting for many more other seconds.

Perhaps he should've thought better of his actions, but he certainly did not allow himself much time think. Elijah was far from a violent person, but he simply shoved the girl away with his foot, leaving a hefty boot-mark on her sweater. And he did regret it, the second his mind stopped spinning - another one to put on the list for today. His raincoat must've gotten even muddier than before, with all the brief thrashing he did to manage to hit her.

"P-please... don't. Don't get too close." he blurted, trying to clear his voice with small coughs. "Were you... inside? Is the flower going to survive?" he asked, focusing on forming the words, feeling the pain in his head become duller, but still unpleasantly present.

As her fingertips just barely grazed the boy, she felt a flash of pain and sickness unlike anything she'd witnessed before. The origins of the illness, from what little she could tell, seemed far deeper than she could reach, and the realization that this was something way out of her capabilities was an inarguable fact in her mind. Flinching back, Amira was already off balance when a foot jerked forward, sending her flying back into the mud. Staring down at the boot print now glaring across her stomach, all she could do was blink in shock for a long, drawn out moment.

Then the boy spoke, and she was drawn out of her daze. Amira examined him thoughtfully as he pulled himself together before her. She could still imagine the ache pounding in his head, and tried not to let pity cloud her judgement. Looking down to examine to mud coating her hands, she finally noticed the ground beneath her was slowly beginning to turn yellow with death. With that, along with his inquiry about the plant, it didn't take long for her to gain a vague understanding of his power.

Amira opened her mouth, then closed it, appearing like a fish out of water as she tried to figure out what to say. She could understand the concern over the flower. Having a gift that only brought death… The girl couldn’t imagine the constant guilt that followed. She could understand his fear now at having her so close. Without a word, she got up and brushed some of the mud off of her hands. Her clothes were practically unsalvageable, but she wasn’t the least bit concerned with that. Walking back inside, she returned to the plant, making sure to meet the eye of the boy outside, silently summoning him to watch from afar. Closing her eyes, she placed her hands over the sick plant. In front of her, the leaves returned to green, what petals it had lost began to bud back. When she was done, the hibiscus was bright and lively, and she met the boy’s eyes with a soft smile, wincing a bit as a new headache pounded away at her temple.

The regret began swimming in the deepest pits of his stomach, poking at his conscience. Apologies stuck in his throat, words not forming, he searched instead to push himself up, at least prop himself into a sitting position. His cheeks burned, part embarrassment and part fever, perhaps, and his head felt heavier than the rest of his body, but with the help of his cane, Elijah scrambled to sit up in the mud. The transparent plastic of his raincoat was opaque with mud, and when he moved a hand to wipe his face of the nothing that weighed it down, mud smeared on his cheek. No matter. He watched her quietly, eyes avoiding her face, until she went away, and for a moment he thought she would just run away, understandably.

But she didn't. Her figure reappeared in the greenhouse, half-obstructed by the dead plant - Elijah guessed she wanted to remind him of the damage done, but at her motioning, he drew closer just a bit, scooting over in the mud with no care for the stains anymore. In all of his life, perhaps, he had not see something more stunning than the plant growing back to life in seconds. It lit up his face, the leaves returning to green, the petals budding once again - he stared for longer than he should've, maybe. But tearing his gaze away did not seem like a option.

He caught the girl's eye and flustered - one of the corners of his mouth quirked upwards, the best semblance of a smile he could manage, once more avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Talking seemed like a silly idea, not knowing whether she could or cared to hear him. Of course, this had been done for the plant, and not for him - he was the one who caused this mess in the first place. The happiness on his face dimmed down, but he still wanted to thank her. Unsteadily and awkwardly, the Winter stood up properly, leaning on his cane to keep his balance, shifting his head back and forth in an odd attempt to motion her to join him outside ('join him' a loosely phrased way of saying 'come outside, but please don't come too close').

Meeting the boy's eyes through the window, Amira nodded when he gestured for her to come out. She tried not to wince as pain faintly pulsed through her body. She'd probably have to take it easy after that. Her mother's words echoed in her head, on beat with her pounding headache. "Don't overextend yourself, Amira. You can't save everyone." Bringing something back from the dead, even something as small as a plant had its consequences. She'd gotten incredibly good at pushing the pain away though, and as she came out to stand in front of the boy - what she hoped was an acceptable distance away, she was careful not to let her own pain show.

"You don't need to worry about the flower, okay? Or me, for that matter." The last part was on the verge of a lie, but Amira couldn't stand the thought of this lonely boy keeping himself away from the world because all he could cause was pain. She was perfectly find with hurting a bit if that meant he wouldn't be so alone.

The feeling in his guts was hard to identify - was he happy she'd come outside and speak to him? Out of the question, at least usually. So then he was just anxious that he would have to talk to somebody, but she didn't quite scare him, anymore. He wanted to ask her so many things about her gift that it was overwhelming. And he shouldn't be weird and creepy - questions were intrusive. But if he had nothing left to say, was that not just as creepy? Maybe he was just overthinking everything, as usually. The smile he offered her was similar to the first one, an odd twist of half of his mouth and his face turned to the ground being all he could muster.

"Sorry." Elijah murmured under his breath, avoiding eye contact, staring instead at the ill-looking grass surround him, at the purposeful distance between the two of them. It didn't make him feel any better. "About... the plant. And your cardigan." he added, the slightest hint louder. He never liked the color yellow, but it was a shame. Both of their outfits were ruined by mud, but he couldn't care much about himself - his cane hadn't snapped and nothing was too torn, and that was mostly all he asked for. Although getting the dirt off this sweater would be a bother.

His headache mirrored hers, and he frowned for a split-second, touching his forehead and feeling a dizzy warmth to his skin. With his other arm he still kept himself firmly propped up with the help of his cane. But it was not unusual, and considering the shock from earlier, it was better than he had hoped for. For now. "I didn't... mean to. To hurt you or the flower."

Amira didn't understand the emotions churning inside her. She had always been a caring person by nature - too caring, too giving. The kind to give her lunch away in kindergarten when another child couldn't afford their's. The kind of person to say 'Oh, I don't care. Whatever you want.' when someone asked them what movie they wanted to see, where they'd like to eat. (It drove her mother wild.) She was perfectly content in suffering as long as it made other people happy - but then, was it even really suffering? If she felt sickness creeping in around her, was she even really hurting if she was deriving joy from knowing this boy wasn't all alone?

She strained to hear him, and it was evident that he wasn't used to talking. In a way, it was similar to the soft way she spoke. Taking a breath, she looked down at her cardigan, having completely forgot about it until he pointed it out once again. She laughed then, airy and melodic. "It's fine, really. Nothing a good wash won't get out." In all honesty, the thin material was probably done for good, but she had little attachment to the clothes she owned.

She had a knack for getting them dirty.

"Really, don't worry about it. The plant is fine - I've been keeping an eye on it anyway." She pulled the cardigan tighter, a sad attempt to fight the morning chill from creeping in. It didn't help that most of her clothes were wet now, increasing the chill. "As for me, I'm fine. A little cold though, but I don't think that's your fault." She smiled softly, then grew serious for a moment. "Really though, please don't worry about me."

It would be quite hard to lie to Elijah in an area he was so well-versed in - washing mud-covered sweaters. Whether there was anymore hope for hers or for his, it was difficult to tell, but the Winter was not a hopeful person. He offered her a vacant half-smile as an encouragement. The leaning on his cane had made it begin to sink into the mud. He wretched it free as she spoke, shaking the end and finding a new place to prop it into. It was nice that she had yet to point out the small oddities about him, the ones so many were quick and nosy enough to ask about.

"I'm bad... at not worrying. It's... what I do best." he replied apologetically, scratching the back of his head with his hand. Great, now he had a dash of mud in his hair as well.

But it was cold outside. Both of them hadn't been careful to dress for the weather, but the chills didn't quite reach him as much as they seemed to bother her. To him it was a pleasant prickling of his skin, almost. He produced his own discomfort and pain, regardlessly. He couldn't help wishing he could do something to make her feel better - he wanted to help people, provided they remembered to stay far enough from him. With a dash of clusminess and embarrassment, he took of his transparent (initially, now partly cake in slowly drying mud) raincoat, and offered it to her, averting his eyes.

"Take it... I mean, if you... want to. It's cold, you're right." the Winter blurted out, fighting an internal battle between running away and digging his own grave to jump into.

Amira had obviously noticed the oddities about Elijah - the cane, his sickly appearance, his fear of contact. She was never a person to dwell, never asked more than someone wanted to give away. She had her own oddities - the way stray animals in town followed her around, her addiction to orange juice. Small things like that, that made her who she was. As far as she was concerned, Elijah's issues were nothing more than that. "It's okay, I must admit that I'm a worrier myself." Though, her worries tended to revolve around other people's happiness.

There was a silence while he struggled to take off his coat, a silence that was in equal parts awkward and strangely, comfortable. She didn't try to rush him, didn't try to help in any way, though she wanted to, as she knew it would be better for him if she didn't intervene. Once it was off and he pressed it forward to her, Amira opened her mouth to decline his offer, before she thought better of it. She was quite cold, and she recognized the gesture as another way to apologize. Taking it, a soft smile and warm glow across her cheeks despite the cold, she thanked him softly, slipping the coat on and sighing contently as it blocked out a bit of the morning chill.

"Oh! I'm Amira, by the way." She figured after all of that, they were probably on a first name basis by now, right?