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

Celebrimbor | Closed to Elf House + Open

[handofsilver]

ELF HOUSE

(Reclusive by nature - a state forged by the hands of his most hated foe - Celebrimbor locks himself in his bedroom when the symptoms start. He does what he can to keep himself hydrated and fed, but as the illness progresses, he is soon a feverish, delusional mess. The bright, hot spots of red on his cheeks are the only color to his features and he is forced to leave his room in search of aid.

Any aid. He will gladly take a fist to the head if it knocks him out for awhile.)

Is someone there? Anyone? (Fear grips his heart. He is alone. Of course he is alone and this isn't a home at all. He's still with Sauron and this is a trick!) Don't do this to me. Not again -

(Celebrimbor collapses by the stairs, silver eyes dull. What use is there in fighting? This is a game of cat and mouse for a Maia.)

OPEN

(He flees from the house at a run, pushing his already taxed body until he has no choice but to hold himself up against a tree. Gasping for air, feeling too hot - no too cold - he shivers and silently pleads for the gods to be merciful. Can Eru hear him? What of the deities of Hadriel?

No, Hadriel doesn't exist. He must be in Angband or -

Some other foul, loathsome spit of charred, ruined land! What he needs is a sword and the strength to use it, yet, sadly, he is already sinking to the ground, his vision going grey.)

[bythewaves]

Telpe?

[ Sickness is foreign to elves, but Maglor raised peredhel. He comes running when he hears - he's well himself - for the moment, but he wouldn't put it past the Gods to spread whatever this is widely ]

Telpe, Telpe, you're burning!

[ He frets ] Come back to your room, and I will get you some water.

[handofsilver]

(He stares in horror when he sees none other than his Uncle. He has seen a lot of him, hasn't he? But Sauron can take so many damn shapes! He pushes himself back against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly.)

D-Don't touch me - You're not -

Uncle Kano wouldn't be here with you!

[bythewaves]

Telpe? [ Maglor freezes, as he flinches ]

Telpe, it's me, truly. Please, Telpe, let me help you.

[handofsilver]

...agh burzum-ishi krimpatul! (He spits the Black Speech, shaking from head to toe.) I know what you intend! You want to bind everyone! You will do to them what you did to me!

(The wounds are fresh in his mind, yet Sauron will not cut quite deep enough to ensure a quick death.)

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor flinches at the sound of black speech, but Maedhros had also spoken far more of it than the family like to admit, and he shakes his head, song now weaving below his words in plea ]

He did, but he's not me. I promise, Telpe, I promise. Please, look? It's only me. You're dreaming, that's all.

[handofsilver]

(When you're surrounded by nothing but the foul language, you learn it quickly. Sauron had counted on it or else his boasts would have fallen flat.)

You - (cannot sing as he does. He wants to laugh at the attempt! No one can match his Uncle's voice! It would be silly for a Maia of fire to even try! But the song seeps in, like a balm, awakening memories of music and gentle hands. Blindly, he stumbles forward and shakily reaches out to touch Maglor's face.)

I don't trust my eyes.

[castintofire]

{Maedhros wastes no time in finding his nephew and reaches to pick him up to hold him close.}

I am here, Nephew. Hold onto me. You will not be abandoned.

[handofsilver]

(He is shaking like a leaf in a storm. His hands curl into fists and he struggles weakly.)

Don't trick me!

[castintofire]

{Not a promising reaction. Maedhros doesn't let go, only coaxes Celebrimbor to press an ear to his chest.}

Listen to the beat of my heart. I am here with you.

[handofsilver]

(Panicked as he is, it takes him a moment to count the steady beats. Suddenly, he is transported from Sauron's stronghold to a far better place. He is sitting at the feet of his tall Uncle, playing with his little wooden horses. Then he is lifted, unexpectedly, and tucked into those strong arms. It feels like nothing bad can reach him there.

His body sags and he clings to Maedhros instead of trying to push him away.)

[castintofire]

{A tender kiss is pressed to the top of the younger Elf's head.}

There you are. What has given you such a fright? {Maedhros strokes a hand over black hair, sitting on the step and holding his nephew closer.}

[utulien_aure]

Celebrimbor?

[The shouting catches his attention, but it's the sound of a body hitting the floor that has Fingon rushing to the staircase.]

You look terrible. Where are you trying to go?

[handofsilver]

Away - (His eyes are wide and frightened.) I don't want him to find me! (When he looks down at himself, he sees the horrible wounds.) I don't have long. If you're not working with him, let me go.

[utulien_aure]

Telpe, Telpe, calm, little cousin. It’s all right.

You’re safe. We will all die rather than see a hair on your head touched.

[handofsilver]

(No wound has hurt more than this. Family.)

You're not -

My cousin died on the battlefield! Let him rest.

Let me go.

[utulien_aure]

[Fingon drops his hands, which had been reaching out for Celebrimbor.]

I did die, Celebrimbor. But I am still here, and I want to help.

Please. Let me?

open

[roseofthetyrells]

[Margaery isn't feeling well herself, though the paranoia has yet to set in. she's made her way to the orchard, thinking that maybe something green and growing would make her feel better when she sees an elf she hasn't officially met yet holding himself against one of the trees, sickness and pain clearly writ across his face.

she bites her lip, struggling with uncertainty, then goes to him] Please, ser, let me help you to the Clinic. They should have medicines there which can help you.

open

[handofsilver]

(Every face transforms into the terrible beauty of Sauron. Celebrimbor is burning up and his body is shaking from the strain of holding himself upright. When Margaery speaks, he recoils, tucking himself behind the tree, silver eyes peeking through long black strands of hair.)

Do you seek to drug me? To poison me? I cannot be tricked!

open

[roseofthetyrells]

[she lets him go behind the tree and doesn't follow as he seems to be in the grip of some terrible emotion.

she speaks as soothingly as she can] I'm not trying to trick you. I just want you to get some help.

Elf House

[so_dark_a_road]

Curuffin hears his son's anguished cry for help, and he runs to find him. Celebrimbor is on his knees by the staircase, his eyes both dull and wild, and full of visions of horror.

Curufin speaks softly, urgently. "Tyelpe! I'm here." He kneels down and lays a gentle hand on Cel's shoulder. His eyes are full of love and pity.

[handofsilver]

Everything is wrong - distorted and so damn reminiscent of where Sauron held him in captivity. He curls in on himself, ready to strike out if only to buy himself more time. But why does he need more time? Everyone is dead.

And it's all his fault.

"D-Don't call me the same name as...as..." he searches Curufin's features desperately, tears springing to his silver eyes, "Now you look like Atar. Why are you tormenting me?!"

[so_dark_a_road]

Curufin shifts around so that he can take Celebrimbor's face in his hands, but with only the lightest of holds. He does not in any way want to resemble what Cel is fearing. His own heart constricts with anguish for his son's sake. Not only for the visions of this moment, but for the real experience, which still haunts Celebrimbor in memory and Curufin in imagination.

He speaks quietly. "I look like your Atar because I am he."

He touches those wet cheeks and wipes the tears with his fingers. He leans forward and kisses his son's forehead, and then he draws back a little in order to make eye contact. Perhaps if Cel's vision can pierce the nightmare visions just enough to perceive the loving spirit in his father's eyes, he will recognize him.

[handofsilver]

He wants to scramble forward, bury himself in those arms. He has missed Curufin for a very long time and now, even if this is a trick, he wants to be close to him. One last time. But some stubborn ember of Fëanorian spirit remains and he holds himself back, every muscle in his body rigid.

"Are you? My Atar perished during the Second Kinslaying. It is the Second Age!" he stops breathing under the touch, confused. He is burning to the touch, but he blinks, fighting to see the truth. All he can see is...

Curufin. His voice breaks as he asks: "Am I dead too?"

[so_dark_a_road]

And oh, those arms are open to him, forever!

"You're right, I died in the attack on Doriath. I did not live to see the end of the First Age, let alone the conflagrations of the Second Age. I would give anything to be able to go back in time and make my history different, so that I could be there with you when Sauron came to you with his lying offers of friendship and the sharing of knowledge."

"But Cel, I am not dead now, nor are you. You are not in Eregion, nor in the Halls of Mandos. You are in the city of Hadriel, in the house you share with me, Maedhros, Maglor, and Fingon. The gods are inflicting an illness on us that renders us vulnerable to our most traumatic memories. But I am here for you, always."