Event Log: Flu Season

[hadrielmods]

Who: All characters
What: The event log for the Flu Season event
Where: All over the city
When: March 20th-March 30th
Warnings: Gross sneezing, sick people, and paranoia

It starts with a cough, a sneeze, a sore throat - something small and simple, easily ignored. But then your symptoms get worse. It's probably been awhile since you've been sick, that sort of thing doesn't usually happen here. You might be able to raid the shops for some tissues and tea before it gets too bad, and hopefully you've got a friend to help out until you get better. Surely it'll be over soon, right?

Until the fever sets in, and you start to understand why your friend is really there. They don't want to take care of you. They want to make sure this is the last anyone will ever see of you. They want to learn all your secrets. They want to steal your most precious possession. You know they're plotting against you, you know they're keeping something from you. What will you do to find out what it is?

Then, as the sickness fades, you realize it was all in your mind. Let's hope you didn't do or say anything too awful. But that friend of yours... they seem to have picked up your cough. Maybe you should help them out?

► This log covers March 20th-March 30th.
► Feel free to make your own logs, as well
► Please tag headers of threads with content warnings where they apply
► Please put your character's name and open/closed in the subject line of your starters!
► If your paranoia ends in murder, please let us know here.

Comments

rose 🌹 ota

[hasitsthorns]

[ In the orchard is where someone could find Rose.

She's been here long enough that most people know this about her: she doesn't sleep much, works more than they should, and quite often extends herself past even her limits. This is true when she feels well. It doesn't stop being true just because she seems to have caught a cold. It's not that she would recognize it anyway considering her kind don't generally get sick.

It feels different from before. There's isn't an absence of strength but instead odd aches and pains. It's like it takes twice as much energy to do anything. It's fine, she says, and continues to weed and trim and do whatever else she usually does to maintain the orchard. And she does the work she's designated to herself until

she passes out and lands face first right in the dirt. There's plenty of good poking sticks around. Have at it. Or maybe help. Whatever! Both are good options, really. ]

[toiletseat_girl]

[George is feeling lousy and pretty much hating whatever is responsible for it. Grim Reapers aren't supposed to get sick, damnit, and yet here she is--stuffed up, achey, and generally miserable. she's off-shift at the Clinic, finally, but doesn't feel like going home yet. Jo's acting weird and she doesn't feel like dealing with any more weird.

so she goes to the orchards, hoping that the (comparably) fresh air will do her good. so far, it's not working. but then, she hears something like someone falling, follows the sound, and finds Rose faceplanted on the ground.

try to wake her up or not try? she probably needs the rest, but this is not exactly the ideal place for it. so try to wake her up it is.

she crouches low on the ground and leans in close to Rose's ear]

Rose? Hey, Rose? C'mon, wake up.

[hasitsthorns]

[ The blond jumps at the whisper. It's not what she's expecting, which- That isn't a good thing. When she's startled, she tends to lash out. It's a fear reaction from time in the ring; being so vulnerable got you killed. One of her hands snaps out in a flash to catch one of George's wrist in a surprisingly tight grip.

It doesn't last, however. She's too weak to really hold onto it and even in her sick haze she finally registers the voice as one that's familiar. ]

Don't wanna', [ she answers, muffled against the dirt. Her hand drops back to the earth and she sighs. Life is rough. ]

[toiletseat_girl]

[well, shit. apparently she did a bad thing? because Rose has a very strong grip.

or maybe not? Rose's grip loosens. maybe she was recognized? she's hoping it's that]

I know you don't wanna, but you can't just sleep out here. You'll just make yourself sicker. And that would suck. Lemme take you to the Clinic.

[hasitsthorns]

[ It's not anything George did wrong. She couldn't have known. The fight isn't taken out of a fighter though quite so easily, but- This sickness has her (and several others) down and out in ways she doesn't expect. ]

Yer not my mom, [ she answers in a huff. ] Not going to the clinic. I don't like it there.

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery is hiding in the orchard. she knows, just knows that Cersei Lannister and her creature are out there, plotting her death. she has her sword with her, but she knows that she'd be no match for Cersei's creature, the undead abomination made from the corpse of Gregor Clegane.

she sees Rose from a distance, but doesn't approach her. she doesn't want to risk getting too close to anyone for fear that they'd be made a target, too.

but then she sees Rose collapse. that changes things. she wouldn't put it past Cersei to have her creature kill someone for the pleasure of watching someone die. and Rose has been so kind to Margaery before.

so Margaery darts out from her hiding place and goes to Rose, turning her right-side up, and tries to pull her into the shadow of a nearby grouping of trees]

[hasitsthorns]

[ Rose actually knows all too well about the fear of people associated with you being added to the hit list. It had happened to Roxanne. Charlie, however, it was the opposite. He'd spent nine lives building up a resistance force against her enemies and his demise also became hers.

Or so she thinks.

The blond doesn't really stir as Margaery drags her away but there are obvious signs of life. Her breathing might be shallow and strained - a bit wheezy due to congested airways - but it's still a thing that's happening. She doesn't resist or retaliate like she usually might. That's a sign of just how unwell she actually feels.

The blond opens one eye once they cease moving, gaze unfocused. ] Is it night already?

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery would like to know more about Rose's past. she seems happy most of the time, but there's a sadness that she perceives.

she manages to get herself and Rose into the shadows and Margaery holds her breath, hoping that the noise didn't draw in Cersei and her creature. so far, there's no sign of them, but she's sure that they're out there, waiting.

Margaery replies quietly] No, we're just in the shadows.

[hasitsthorns]

[ Most of the time is the key phrase there. She's a lot less chipper than she was just a few short years ago, actually. But she still manages to put on a front more often than she doesn't. ]

Why?

[ She doesn't feel the paranoia that other people do. Not just yet. Right now, she just feels sick. Tired. Maybe she should be afraid to die, but- She isn't. She hasn't been for a long, long time. ]

I am the worst and slowest let me know if this is too powerposey!!

[deathstouch]

[ Aric comes across Rosie in the orchard. It's not all coincidental. He's heard of the sickness that is going around and he knows that she frequents there. He's reminded of the Rosie that he knew and that she would not be likely to take care of himself so he finds worry growing that this Rosie might be much the same.

So, it is with no great shock when he finds her passed out in the dirt. His reaction is not to poke at her at, though. Instead, being who he is, he picks her up, glancing around. He could take her to the clinic but he has a feeling that she would not stay there long.

Instead, he climbs onto Thanatos' back with her and heads back to the home that he shares with his estranged wife. He'll put her on the couch and rummage through the kitchen to find a cold compress to put on her forehead and then come up with something close to soup. She is breathing and he can sense that she's not close to any death so he lets her rest -- something he doubts she has been doing. ]

npnp it's totally cool

[hasitsthorns]

[ His hunch is correct. Rose would have been gone before anyone could have actually taken a look at her for too long if she was left in the clinic.

For her part, she only stirs minimally as she's hoisted up onto horseback and carted away. The blond might mutter some things - mostly intelligible Japanese - but otherwise doesn't speak. Fever has stripped her of lucidity. Since she isn't supposed to feel sick when she does it's... not very pretty.

She recognizes the chill though it doesn't do much for her. This is one of the times where being impervious to cold is a downside, definitely. Still, it wakes her from her stupor and she blinks blearily. Rose immediately recognizes the ceiling as Not Hers and wonders where she is. How she'd gotten here. ]

I always thought the afterlife would be more exciting.

[deathstouch]

[ He manages to get a blanket over her as well between all his movement in the kitchen. Over the centuries, he's become an adequate cook. He leaves the soup he had put together -- though at this time it seemed that supplies were tight in all honesty so it is not as nutritious as he would have ideally wanted but it will suffice as long as she will agree to eat it.

When Rosie stirs, Aric gets together a bowl and a spoon. He comes over to her and crouches down in front of the couch. ]

It only feels like you died. [ He smiles slowly. ]

I made you some soup.

[hasitsthorns]

[ The woman curls up underneath the blanket, turning on her side to face where he sets the soup. Demons don't care for their sickly young in this way; it was a human experience she always heard about but never understood.

Until now. She can see why - despite how bad she feels - some people seemed to recall the times fondly. It's a strange sort of warmth that being cared for causes. She isn't actually sure she likes it just yet, but she's also still very out of it. ]

Thanks, dude. You didn't have to do that for me.

Glacius | March 28 | Closed to Carlisle

[glacius]

It's been a long time since Glacius remembers feeling this physically awful.

Sure, the alien has suffered his fair share of injuries during his stay in Hadriel and before it; he's been imprisoned, tortured, and dismembered on multiple occasions. But that was physical pain that he—as sad as it is—is somewhat accustomed to by this point in his long life as a warrior, and the benefit of having a partner who is also an incredibly skilled healer means that the worst of his suffering can usually be alleviated before too long.

That is not the case with the condition he's found himself in now, plagued by steadily worsening bodily aches and a hellish fever. His partner can treat the symptoms but his powers can't cure an illness... and the alien has been sickening for days now. While at first Glacius had tried to brush off Carlisle's concerns and insist that he was fine to keep working, it has gotten to the point now where he can no longer keep up pretenses even to himself. It's hard to think through the burning haze that has him feeling like he's steadily cooking, hard to breathe through the mucus accumulating in his airways, and even harder to move when every little shift makes it feel like someone's stabbed a hot nail into his joints.

That feverish fog isn't the only thing clouding the ice alien's mind, either, and that becomes apparent the longer he is sick. It isn't hard to tell how miserable he's feeling; his icy skin is slick and wet thanks to his high temperature, and his gills aren't moving in those gentle undulations, but rather are pushing in and out stiffly, the operculum sticking together at times. He coughs and hacks until his gills feel raw. He'd initially tried to solider on and put on a brave face in true Glacius fashion, but now he seems wary, unstable. He's become more and more reluctant to so much as close his eyes for a second to get the rest he so desperately needs, or to let his partner tend to him in his time of need. He's afraid to be touched or to submit himself to the cleric's well-meaning examinations. Even now, as Carlisle comes to check in on him again, he'll see that Glacius isn't resting well—but rather is trying to keep an eye out at all times, his eyes flicking rapidly around the room, his breathing shallow and quick.

"Wha... what is this? What's happening, what are you going to do to me," the feverish ice alien croaks, his eyes locked on Carlisle in a way that suggests his hackles would be up if his body weren't too weak to react in such a manner. Maybe it's just delirium settling in from his sickness... but most likely it's something more, as it would have to be to make the normally cool-headed alien seem so... paranoid, even with the one he has always said he can trust.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle gives Glacius a befuddled look as he closes the door behind him, tucking the papers in his hand against his chest. His confusion wears away into sadness, almost bordering on pity. "I'm just going to activate a few glyphs I've inscribed," he explains, offering his partner a lopsided smile. "I thought the presence of snow might aid in your recovery, however minimal it may be."

And he does hope it helps. The last time Glacius' breathing sounded this bad, he was suffocating, the fanged ivy having torn through the delicate membranes and made way for infection. They had only managed to get enough snow through the gods and through conjuration, and even then, it had been an ordeal. After all, he wouldn't have been injured if Glacius' double hadn't gotten a hold of the plant in the first place -- and that was certainly Carlisle's fault. The clergyman still feels guilt for that, but for now, he can only focus on the concern that's been overwhelming him for the past several days. Glacius doesn't seem to sleep, and won't let him get near. Does he fear he will make things worse? Or is his friend simply trying to shield him from the sickness?

Given how worried he's been about Glacius, Carlisle hasn't had the time to ponder why he isn't the one who came down with this mysterious illness that's ravaging the city. He's never been in the best of health, even before his injury -- and certainly not for a Longinmouth, as the physical prowess of any one of their line was generally the envy of half the population of Bear Den. Even Benistad, a magician, was considered devilishly attractive by anyone who laid eyes upon him. Carlisle cannot say he feels that often, save for when he's in his lover's embrace. Glacius has always made him feel significant... important, despite everything.

And that's something he won't be feeling again if the alien doesn't get well. Carlisle slides to the corner of Glacius' room, tacking one of the sheets to the wall before making his way toward the next corner.

[glacius]

As Carlisle progresses into the room, he'll likely feel to glowing green eyes boring into him—the alien is watching him like a hawk, every muscle in his body tense. His partner's offer has caused conflicting emotions to scream at each other in his mind. He desperately needs and wants the suggested snow, as he feels like he's been slowly overheating for days and it is absolutely miserable, and cooling off is his best chance at kickstarting the process of recovery... but if he passes into torpor, he'll be completely defenseless.

Is that what this human wants?? Is this offer of aid actually a ploy so that he can be rendered unconscious for study... or worse? It would not be the first time a human's promise to help has been a cover for something more sinister.

"Stop—stop, don't!" The ice alien barks awkwardly, startled by the false realization dredged up by his own paranoia. He'd continue, but his sudden outburst aggravates his airways, and he breaks down into a nasty coughing fit, his body involuntarily curling in on itself as he clutches at his chest. The movement in turn causes his joints to scream anew, and his hacking takes on an agonized tone. He desperately needs help, but with his usual calmness displaced, it's going to take some work to get him there.

[tongueamok]

Carlisle does indeed feel those eyes upon him, their glow practically searing a hole into the back of his neck, but it's not until Glacius cries out that he turns, nearly dropping the sheets of paper in his arms in alarm. He tears across the room, his feet sliding on a patch of ice on the floor, his legs tangling together as he runs into the bedside, but he makes it without falling on his face -- a relative success.

"It's fine!" he cuts in during Glacius' coughing, trying to assuage the icy warrior. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine. It will be fine, Glacius. I am watching my expenditure of energy, I assure you." Or at least that's what he assumes the problem must be. It wouldn't be like his partner to think otherwise.

Then again, it wouldn't be like Glacius to have an aversion to his touch either, yet the alien has been avoiding a thorough inspection for days now. Carlisle reaches to put a hand on Glacius' shoulder, hoping his touch will bring his partner some measure of comfort in light of his outburst.

[glacius]

It's only the fact that his body is currently wracked with pain and he's still struggling with his respiratory system that stops Glacius from having a more volatile reaction to the human's touch. Instead of bristling, scrambling away, or outright hissing at Carlisle he just lays there, every muscle tightly tensed. It's only when the coughing fit has subsided somewhat that he manages to shoot his partner a sharp Glare, his eyes brimming with misery.

"I have been assured before," the alien wheezes, his gills struggling to pass air through them. His voices sounds choked, like it's barely climbing out of his throat. "That is just the human way of trying to get something for themselves! I'm not letting you put me under. I cannot... I won't go through that again..."

Glacius trails off, panting hoarsely. The plus side of his poor condition, if it can be considered such, is that he doesn't have the strength to keep up these fits for long. The downside is that each one seems to take more and more out of him; he needs to rest, but to do that he needs to trust first, and that is not coming as easily as it should.

Magnus Burnsides | The Adventure Zone

[disarmer]

[ Magnus has set up camp in the park, like some kind of bizarre, wood-carving hobo. It's a pretty sorry excuse for a campsite, too, just a bedsheet tossed over a line, a few blankets on the ground for warmth, and a pillow to rest his head. Peanut is with him, happily curled up in the blanket pile, unaware of just how unorthodox this whole thing is.

Because the ground around the campsite is littered with small wooden carvings. There's a pile near the tent that appear to be the carved, wooden stems of flowers or the start of rose blooms. They have all been hastily discarded, imperfect, Magnus's paranoia-addled mind unable to focus on the delicate touch needed to make something as beautiful and graceful as his trade to Margaery needs to be. Beyond the flowers are small wooden ducks of varying sizes and designs. Some of them look like they could be the duck-version of people he knows. Some have elegant, intricate feathers, some aren't even finished.

Magnus is sitting in the middle of the sea of carvings with a crown of those shitty, half-finished roses on his head. He has some fabric, a needle, and some thread in hand and it looks like he's attempting embroidery. Even from a distance, it's obviously a very, very shitty attempt. It doesn't matter to him, though, because it's okay to be shitty at this. Unlike the decades he's been carving, this is a new skill. Which means he should be able to stop thinking and focus.

Basically, he's trying and failing to keep himself distracted, trying and failing to keep his mind from falling further into this weird, paranoia-filled rabbit hole he's stuck in. He thought moving to the park for a little while, away from everyone, would maybe help. Or at the very least, it would be best for them, give them a little space. They wouldn't have to pity him then, wouldn't have to pretend. Because Magnus is pretty sure he's making the already questionable state of things around Tres Horny House worse. Or at least slightly less-than-ideal for his family.

And so here he is, hoboing-it-up in the park, muttering to himself as he tries to empty his mind and sew a straight goddamn line. If he hears anyone approach he panics and tries to hurriedly sweep the massive amounts of wooden trinkets out of the way. It's...not very effective. ]

S-sorry. Uh, just let me get out of--Sorry!

YO

[knockthemdead]

[When Kravitz initially spotted Magnus, he'd thought he might finally have a lead on where to find Taako.

Now, watching the man frantically sweep half finished duck carvings away from his shitty tent, he sees this is unlikely to be the case.]

Magnus, please, it's quite all right-- [wait] Uh, is that...

[A duck vaguely shaped like a super familiar grim reaper?]

Aric Dominija | Closed

[deathstouch]

( Closed to Evie )

It's been literally centuries upon centuries since the last time that Aric had gotten ill and here he was feverish and nauseated and all the unpleasant symptoms that come with the flu. It's likely that he had gotten it while caring for Rosie and now he was laid up in bed too weak and sore to move. He's not sure how much time had passed and he's starting to wonder if maybe the Empress had poisoned him.

After all, it wouldn't have been the first time... but her poisons usually work much quicker than this.

[poisonprincess]

If there's one thing that she knows about her husband, she knows that he doesn't get sick. That was just weird in her book. Evangeline doesn't like it either. Hell, she's not sure where he got it from and is surprised that she hasn't gotten it yet. She's seen a few people who didn't look so good and she doesn't like it.

Heading into the bedroom she watches him for a moment before going over, sitting on the edge of the bed and runs fingers through his hair. "You need to try and eat something, Aric."

[deathstouch]

Aric tilts his head away from Evie's hand, remembering that her claws are poisonous as well. He frowns at her tiredly. He exhales as he looks at her blearily.

"I am not hungry," he informs her and more so he is worried that any food that there might be might not be safe to eat at this point. He doesn't pull away from her hand, though.

[poisonprincess]

She noticed that he tilted his head away and a part of her knows why. However, she'd never hurt him. Despite the Game she didn't want to take him out. It doesn't, however, make her take her fingers from his hair.

"You need to eat, Aric. Otherwise, you'll never get better," Evie tells him softly. She'd dealt with stuff like this with herself, her friends and her mom.

[deathstouch]

"You're trying to trick me," Aric argues, it's weak however, because he is weak. He feels a petulance rising in him and an anger but there's nothing he can do about it. It's probably lucky that his weapons are no where near, though he might not have had the strength to swing the blame and decapitate her even if they were close enough.