Freya walked, erm, shuffled into the hospital wing. She had a hospital mask over her face still, and only took it off as she lowered herself down into a chair to wait. Freya then took out her compact mirror and looked herself over; it was as though death was an inch away from her. Her eyes were dim and her skin had an almost greenish tinge to it. Not to mention that her head and throat were hurting badly, and whenever she breathed there was a low, rasping sound in her lungs. She would have taken out a book from her bag, but the effort just didn't seem to be worth it. 'Here's hoping it's not something serious.' Freya thought to herself as she layed across some more seats and used her bag as a pillow. 'I'm not used to being ill...'