I'm not staying inside, I'm going into the sun
"I. Want. To. Go." Isabelle's words were a hiss, and she was scowling, her brows furrowed. "Outside."
Her tone was sullen, and her mood was foul.
She was sick and tired of her cold and her bed and her room and her illness. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time stuck in a bed, in a small, enclosed space.
The world was a massive, expansive and vast place, and her universe had shrunk down to the confines of her bed and her chamber.
She wanted to escape.
Even just to her garden.
She'd accept the garden at that point, and would settle for the gardens.
She would not accept less.
"No. You're recovering from a relapse, my Empress."
"I. Am the Empress." She hissed. "And I said. Outside." Her voice was raspy and hoarse, her throat scratchy, and she was frustrated.
"I am. Tired of this room." She insisted. "I need. Sunlight. Air."