fandomhighdorms | Chupacabra campfire: Saturday morning

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Chupacabra campfire: Saturday morning

Karal stumbled out of the cabin. His head was pounding, his stomach was rolling, and his mouth felt as it had been stuffed full of cotton. It was not a good morning.

He collapsed in a little heap of misery next to the campfire and tried to hide from everything in the world that made noise. Including the sun. No, the sun can't actually make noise. Yet there he was, huddling in the cabin's shadow.

"Oh, Sunlord. I will never drink again." It was a fervent vow, and to it he added a silent wish for willowbark tea.

Your first hangover is always a startlingly memorable experience.

[ooc: very open, yes!]

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"Probably," he agreed, scrubbing at the throbbing coming from his temple. "Not like they tasted all that good anyway."

"Please," he held up a hand, swallowing hard. "I'm not sure I want to remember."

"I'll give your pillow back today," Gavin muttered, slinking further down and closing his eyes.

Even as miserable as he felt, he had to smile just a little at that. "My bed finding pillow?"

"Shhh," Gavin said and glared at him. It wasn't much of a glare though. "Tell no one that."

Karal really didn't want anyone to know either. "I promise. I will never mention it again." He rubbed a hand over his face and looked pathetic. "My head hurts. Does your head hurt?"

"Yeah," Gavin said, frowning. "Right over my eyes. And the back of my head. It just hurts. Will it go away?"

"Buffy says it will go away." Not that he looked overly hopeful. "And that drinking water will help."

"Water?" Gavin made a face. "I...don't know if I want to drink anything."

"She says it will help, but yes." He grimaced. "My stomach would protest, I think."

"The purple was a bad choice," he said. "Bad choice."

"As was the clear." And the red and the yellow and probably the amber as well. "Gavin, let's not do that again."

"Agreed," he said, pressing a hand to his eyes. "Never again."

He sighed and put his head down on his knees. "We should have stayed with ale. Those colours," he shuddered, "they were not natural."

"Here they are," Gavin said, trying to sound rational. "Maybe we just drank too many colors at once?"

"Maybe," he said doubtfully, then rested his chin on his palm, closing his eyes against the sun. "But it wasn't entirely without enjoyment."

It took Gavin a moment to say, "True. I had fun. Last night. Today's not as much fun."

"No, this may be the very opposite of fun," he agreed, resting his head on his knees, eyes still closed. "No more coloured drinks. Ever."

"My head feels like it's splitting open," Gavin said.

"I think mine has fallen off and someone replaced it with an overripe melon," he mumbled. "Which was a very unkind thing to do. We need willowbark tea. Or aspirin. But I have neither."

"Willowbark tea?"

"It is a tea the healers use. It, it's a pain killer," he explained, using the term Buffy had given him. "Used for small hurts and aches, headaches, muscle strains." He made a face. "The aftermath of coloured drinks."

"I wonder if bacta would work," Gavin said thoughtfully. "I could go for some of that right now."

"Bacta? Is that something similar?"

"Bacta isn't for drinking," Gavin said. "It's more for immersion during injury. I spent several days in a bacta tank when I got shot."

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