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Tighnari’s sleep was disturbed by pain. He stirred, reluctant to wake up, but his stomach cramped stubbornly. Tighnari curled in on himself and moaned sleepily. It was the feeling of something churning up his throat that sent him jolting upright. That was when he realised why he had been woken up. He was going to be sick.
Tighnari stumbled out of the makeshift tent that served as a shelter to travellers in the forest. He put as much distance between himself and the tent as he could, not wanting the mess to be near where they were sleeping, before his stomach heaved and he doubled over gagging. The next heave brought up a vile wave of sick. Tighnari gripped a tree as his body convulsed against his will. He heaved again and coughed as he was sick.
That seemed to be the lot of it. No matter how much he gagged and heaved after that, nothing but a pathetic dribble of bile dripped from his mouth. Tighnari spat a few times and returned to the tent with his stomach settled again. He fumbled in the dark until he found his flask of water, swishing a small sip around in his mouth and spitting it out at the site of his incident. Then he trudged back to bed. Tighnari snuggled into Cyno for comfort from the unpleasant ordeal. Cyno didn’t need to be awake to console him; his mere presence, rising and falling with slow breaths, was enough. It was over now, that was what mattered.
Tighnari was most disconcerted when he was woken up again a couple of hours later by the same cramping nausea. He scrambled out of the tent with less notice than before, but made it back to the same spot to be sick again. This time it was immediate and violent, most of it coming up in a single projectile heave. It splashed horribly loudly onto the forest floor, sharply punctuating the ambient night. Tighnari spluttered and gasped for air once his stomach relaxed.
“Tighnari, what’s wrong??” Cyno cried from their tent.
“I’m okay, go back to sleep!” Tighnari called back to him. He shuddered and gagged up a much smaller mouthful of sick.
“This is the second time you’ve thrown up tonight!” Cyno protested. So, he had heard the first time, at least slightly.
“It’s fine!” Tighnari insisted weakly. He gagged up bile. He was shivering despite the warm forest air. He felt so horribly woozy. There was nothing left to come up, but he couldn’t stop gagging queasily.
“Twice is concerning, Tighnari…” Cyno remarked softer now.
Tighnari spat out excess bile and returned to the tent for his flask. Cyno was already holding it out for him.
“Twice is still a coincidence.” Tighnari shrugged. He took the flask back to what he had started mentally dubbing ‘the vomit pile’ to rinse his mouth out. Even with the taste gone, the unpleasant queasiness didn’t subside. Tighnari pressed a hand to his mouth for his own reassurance, stifling each tiny gag of his delicate throat. He stayed leaning against a tree for a while, moaning softly.
“Are you done? Come and lie down.” Cyno begged.
Tighnari moaned again. He would get through this. Everything was fine. He didn’t know what was wrong, but it would pass, because he was fine and nothing was wrong. He unsteadily made his way back to the tent and sank down next to Cyno, who immediately pulled him into a hug and began rubbing his back.
“You’re shaking,” Cyno observed quietly.
“Just cold, not vomit tremors….” Tighnari insisted delicately.
“You shouldn’t be cold. I’m shirtless and I’m not cold.” Cyno muttered. Tighnari wearily dropped his head onto Cyno’s shoulder.
“Not everyone is made of muscle like you….” He retorted, despite being quite muscular himself under all that layered clothing.
A tiny burp escapes against Cyno’s shoulder. Cyno paused. “Are you gonna be sick again?” Tighnari uttered a tiny sound of negation. “You better be certain about that.”
“Let’s rest….” Tighnari murmured. Cyno pulled him back to the ground with him, never letting go. With Cyno’s soothing touches, it wasn’t long before Tighnari settled back into a deep sleep.