( open )

[adelphoi]

Who: Alisaie Leveilleur (adelphoi) & you nerds
What: October general shenans
When: All month
Where: Everywhere potentially but probably just at her house mostly
Warning(s): Sick.. stuff?? idk probably nothing but will update if necessary.



PART 1;

a; aftermath

[ alisaie is not present in the marketplace when the attack occurs, but the resounding boom cannot be missed, even from her home flat. it's a hectic hour or so while she rushes to figure out what has happened, and when riza returns home sick she feels a heavy misgiving sink deep into her stomach. disease is not an enemy she can fight with her rapier, it's something insidious, something sneaky and unpredictable - gods help them find a remedy soon.

immediately, she's dashing right to work. with riza ill they'll need supplies - healthy foods, spare blankets, medicinal herbs, ice, a great deal of ice. once she's set with her list she's off to the institute and markets to gather what useful things she can, stuffing them into a canvas shoulder bag, but you can certainly bet that she'll stop to assist in any way she can, whether it's righting an overturned cart or leading those who were injured in the panic to the sanctuary.

of course, it's not long before she's feeling rather warm and dizzy herself and, of course, chalking it up to the rush and mayhem. maybe she'll just.. sit down a moment. ]

b; sickbed;

[ alisaie is an awful patient.

keeping her in bed is no easy task, and there's an itch under her skin that urges her to move, to work - there's so much she could be doing, ways she could be helping. this disease is a godsdamned prison.

she's responsible enough to at least not mingle with the public, lest she spread this horrible mystery illness further, but she cannot remain strictly indoors in bed for so long, not without losing her mind. so when she can, when the weather is tepid, alisaie sits on the second floor deck of her flat, wrapped up in a blanket, usually with a book (or stack of books), enjoying the fresh air on her too-hot face. ]

c; reaching out

[ what else can you do when you're more or less bedbound? catch up on the internet, of course. mostly, alisaie keeps an eye on the network for any updates, and takes the time to reach out to those she knows, to doublecheck that they're safe. if you've met her even once or twice, chances are she will toss a line out and test the waters. incoming message from RedMage: ]

This is Alisaie; how are you faring?

PART 2;

a; wandering

[ it's late evening the first time she sees him.

though first she hears him, the familiar voice of her grandfather calling her out of her dreams, warm and welcoming. she wakes in her bed, slick with fever sweat and surrounded by silence - mayhaps she had misheard it? it must have been a dream, her head is spinning. but then it comes again, distinct and clear; it has been years since she last heard his voice but it is not a sound that she would ever forget. ]

Grandfather..?

[ dizzy and disoriented, she climbs out of bed and stumbles toward the open window, squinting into the slanting light of sunset just in time to see the shape of him, louisoix leveilleur's all too familiar form disappearing around the corner. immediately her heart kicks up into her throat and alisaie gasps and turns, stumbling back through her bedroom and out of the house, down the stairs and onto the street barefoot, in her nightdress, to follow a ghost. ]

No, please wait.. don't leave me again..

[ how long she wanders in this delirium she cannot say, but her feet are sore and scratched and muddy, her hair down and wild from sleep and the tugging winds. she may run right into you, or trip over a flagstone, but short of forceful intervention nothing will keep her from her goal. ]

b; friendly fire

[ for those of you unlucky enough to visit her (or stop by her home for some other purpose) while the symptoms continue to worsen, you will find that her delirium has not abated. between bouts of lucidity and sleep she tries still to wander, to follow the voices and phantoms of her family and friends to whatever oblivion they might call her to, but it is not only friends she sees. sometimes it is enemies or horrible, twisted monsters. it's hardly a problem if she wanders outside, weaponless, but any creak of sound within her home would easily alert her.

blinking blearily, alisaie tumbles out of bed at the noise, her heart thudding and her mind cloudy, and she does not think twice before taking up her rapier and focus which lie across a chair in her room and stumbling into the dimly lit common area. her voice is rough from coughing. ]

Who.. who goes there?

[ catchall for october! alisaie will spent much of it being sick, apparently, so feel free to crash her place and visit.. make sure she stays in bed. get her texts or send her one, or meet up in the market!! if none of these prompts work for you i'm more than happy to work something out and write up a starter. ♥ plotting comment is here, or i can be reached on plurk for planning. i'm game! ]

Comments

prompto;

[adelphoi]

[ since the moment they settled in to olympia alisaie has felt, in her gut, that this idyllic balloon would burst, that it was only the calm before the storm that they faced and soon enough the other shoe would drop.

mayhaps it's simple remnants of her lifestyle, but on hydaelyn peace was ever fleeting. sharlayan might have been an isolated state, but she was taught of battle and the world outside, of the war-torn continents of their world, of the calamities that came again and again to disrupt what peace and construction they could find. and of course, since the tender age of eleven she had begun to witness it firsthand. the fall of dalamud that took her grandsire from her, the coils of bahamut after that, resisting the empire's grasp, the dragonsong war, the ascians - hydaelyn's troubles seemed never to end, and no sooner would they find a moment to cool their heels than some new threat would be upon them.

so she's ready for it when at last it hits - or as ready as one can be for something so violently surprising. at the very least she is not shocked, but the sickness that spreads soon after is.. concerning. riza had come home ill, and while it has seemed thus far more or less innocent, the very fact that it was brought on by a biological attack is telling, and she does not trust these symptoms.

of course she's quick to help, to assist riza in what ways she can, but it's not long before she finds herself dizzy in the markets, and thanks to x'rhun's quick intervention here she is, miserable on house arrest, following the network closely every moment that she can. prompto seems to have escaped it more or less unscathed, which eases her heart, and of course he's got his hands full with the guard, but she's still reassured once she hears that knock on the door.

she's in her nightdress when she answers the door, skin flushed and eyelids heavy, her hair down and wild from sleeping but she still looks intensely relieved to see him. ]

Thank the Twelve, you're all right.

[punshots]

[ It's not been his best day.

Which, of course, is an extraordinary understatement. The house was uncharacteristically quiet when he'd woken that morning, and it should've been the first sign of trouble. But he had no reason to suspect anything was wrong, despite the growing sense of dread blossoming in his stomach. The other boys had probably just - woken earlier, and gone their own ways early in the morning. It's not the first time this has happened, and he'll reach out to them later. He's running late for work, anyway.

Maybe it's only the lens he saw through looking back, but it seemed like there was something in the air that morning. Something unwelcome and stale, and it's not long before that foreboding shadow lingering in his thoughts manifests itself into something real and horrible.

A bomb, not one of fire and shrapnel, but a biohazard, and once again, he'd failed to stop it. It's extremely fortunate that they talked when they did, that Alisaie had told him so plainly that he couldn't hope to stop every attack in the market district by himself. But this coming so soon after Victarion's iron-fisted justice is such a slap to the face that it's numbing. It has him reeling, but he gets caught up in the motions, because the guard is called into action and he has to do what he can to catch the people responsible for this. He has to...he has to make this right.

It's when he's texting Noctis, Ignis and Gadio to make sure they're alright, only to have their messages bounce, that he really starts to unravel.

Not that he lets it show - oh, no. He's committed to his work, and thank the Six he has that to throw himself into. To numb himself by working, investigating, trading quips and picking up others who were down. By all appearances, he'd seem fine to most. A little rattled, sure, but weren't they all?

But there are moments - pauses that take too long, lost in thought, gaze distant like he's staring into the jaws of some unfathomable beast, ready to swallow him up - that tell a different story. It only builds as they day passes, and eventually, he breaks away from the market, to make a stop that he absolutely needs to make. It wasn't even a question of whether or not he'd go to her now, and it's a good thing, too - there's so very little he feels certain about right now.

Once again, he'll ask too much, but...he needs to be with her for awhile.

So when she opens the door, dressed down and flushed, he's so overcome with relief just to see her that he doesn't fully consider these other facts yet. ]

Alisaie! [ He steps over the threshold, and for that single moment, he wears a genuine smile as he moves to embrace her. ] I'm so glad you're okay -

[ But his voice trails a bit on that last word. Why does she look like she's...

Sick? ]

x'rhun

[adelphoi]

[ at first, she blames the sun. it's high in the sky, and while autumn might be upon them it still feels rather like summer, warm and balmy most days. so when she begins to feel warm she can only assume it's from the afternoon heat, mayhaps combined with the terrifying excitement of the day's events - or at least, that is what she tells herself. she's far too stubborn to be sick.

but she's been close with riza, helping her from the moment she arrived home looking ill and ready to drop, so if this sudden insidious plague is contagious..

she's not going to think about that. alisaie had gone to the institute to retrieve what balms and medicines she thought might be helpful and then through the markets for herbs and extra ice, a few spare hand towels - things that might be of use. but gods, it's warm today.. near the end of her trip it's almost overwhelming, and she stops beneath a shady awning to lean back against a nice cool brick facade, tugging at her high collar and resting her aching head back against the wall.

just.. just a moment's rest. ]

[verflair]

[ For an instant, X’rhun had dared hope for a reprieve, for a moment or two to come to terms with the loss of his home, his friends still in slumber, and to begin a far more peaceful life than the one he led on Hydaelyn.

But he was never really suited to that kind of life, and the forces at work on this world saw fit to remind him of that. It… hits close to home, the panic and the tension in air in the wake of the attack, and X’rhun has every intention of tracking down those responsible, but first he has more pressing matters at hand. He needs to make sure his friends are safe.

On the top of the list is Alisaie, and in all the commotion he hasn’t even thought to reach out to her on the network- it’s still so foreign a concept to him that it’s not even on his radar. Where does that leave him? Looking.

She’s not at her home, and with her roommate ill, he doesn’t stay overlong. It’s purely by chance that he runs across her when he does. As it is, he nearly misses her in the shade of the awning. ]

Alisaie? [ Just the sight of her is enough to unknot the tangle of worry coiling in his chest. ] Thank the Twelve. Are you all right?

somewhere after the announcement and before alisaie gets sick??

[regives]

[ If asked how her week would go Leanne would initially answer with "as always"; the days became easy to predict considering everything became relatively peaceful, so of course the last thing she was expecting was to be suddenly labeled a fugitive. Especially for what was once a job that gave off the appearance of being helpful towards Olympia—she had no part of this sudden attack, and given what little information she learned from since she had woken up from stasis she had a number of reasons to not turn herself in.

There's evident sympathy in her face and it pains her to hear that Riza and several others had suffered from the blast. An event that has no somehow connected itself to her, and of course she feels that it's necessary for an explanation. Something. At least before she turns all her attention on what to do next, fully aware that her presence within their apartment could lead to more unpredictable messes. ]

Alisaie. [ Without hesitation, after the other girl has finished tending to Riza for (probably) the umpteenth time today, she approaches. ] I need to talk to you real quick.

works for me!!

[adelphoi]

[ a list. a list is what she needs.

alisaie isn't an incredibly fussy person, but she does like to see to it that those important to her are taken care of, so the moment riza wanders in with a mystery illness she is On It, laying out a mental gameplan, preparing. they don't have a great deal on hand when it comes to medicine - alisaie has a handful of potions from home, but they are for injury not illness. she should dash by the institute, get her hands on what she can..

and ice. extra ice is always good, for cool cloths and compresses. she'll need to get some of that, too - ]

- Oh.

[ in her rush out of riza's door she nearly runs headlong right into leanne, who seems to have sought her out. oh please don't be sick too, alisaie is already looking her over with a critical eye. ]

Yes?

ysayle;

[adelphoi]

[ the one and only upside to being bedbound against her will is that she has plenty of time to comb the network. normally, between work, studies and personal obligations she hardly has the time to spare it more than a cursory glance, but save for reading and napping there's little enough for her to do.

granted, napping happens quite a lot. she's utterly exhausted, aching all over, with a resounding headache that won't quit and a fever chill that comes in waves - sleeping is a fine alleviation. still, she feels the need to reach out, to check in with everyone she can think of, and ysayle is on that list, so she'll soon be receiving a message from RedMage ]

Ysayle? This is Alisaie, are you well?

text; un: Iceheart

[ysayle]

[ it's funny, how news of someone getting sick can pass along so quickly amongst a community of refugees in a packed city. A little bit like illness, actually. Ysayle has certainly been aware that Alisaie is tucked away at home, stuffed up and suffering, but had not yet found time to contact her.

And now it would seem Alisaie has beaten her to the punch.

There's a little less of a rush at the cafe right now, people staying home if they're too afraid to pretend that they're not afraid by resuming normal life, so she's able to respond after a short while, mindful of nosy snoots and honks from one of the tiny dragons who comes to rest on her shoulder. ]

Oh! Hello, Alisaie.

I am kept busy, but an otherwise quite well. Better than you, from what I have heard?

b;

[daemonized]

[Tending to the sick. The very notion of it settles strangely in Ardyn, memories of a lifetime long past threatening to billow to the surface, unkind and unwanted. It’s only with a longer lifetime’s worth of practice does he push it back down, letting it crystallize at his core. To ignore it, for now, to hide the disdain that lances through every thought and every movement as he crosses from residence to residence, providing “aid” to those who might need it. How laughable. The aid he provides is probably more emotional than anything actually effective (and the idea that Ardyn Izunia should be providing emotional support for anyone is hysterical), because what has he been given to tend to them with? Medicine to lower a fever, or to help one sleep through the symptoms. Soup to provide sustenance. As if soup was really going to ward off anything particularly nasty. As if very many of the bedridden, running fevers to begin with, really wanted something steaming to eat.

Regardless, here he is. Let into the abode and at Alisaie’s bedside, whom he recognizes as the young lady who refused to take his wayward watermelon not that long ago. Funny how quickly the tone has shifted, even if Ardyn’s demeanor seems to be relatively the same. He’s dressed in all black today, as is expected of anyone representing the guard — an irony that never fails to escape him, but he hardly ever comments upon it.]

You look particularly fidgety. Not one for being confined to a bed, hm?

[Restlessness. He knows it well.]

I’ve brought something to help you sleep, but first— are you hungry?

[adelphoi]

[ if it helps, alisaie is no more thrilled about this than he is. comrades in misery.

because really, what's worse than being housebound while she's itching to join the fight is being housebound and waited on. she's never taken particularly well to fussing, which is unfortunate, considering how often she gets herself into situations where fussing is required and/or justified. nevertheless, she's peeved by the very presence of her guest, though it isn't necessarily directed at him. ardyn is an innocent (lol) bystander for the most part, and what he's doing is a kindness (lol), but that doesn't make bearing it any easier.

with a rattling sigh, alisaie closes the book that was open over her lap, and sets it aside. we meet again, watermelon hobo. ]

A bit.

[ and more importantly - ]

Have you news?

[ what's happeningggg out there what's going oooonnnnnnn she cant s t a n d i t ]

b.

[illuminating]

[Passing from another attempt at hearing anything that might help Rocket and returning to the Sanctuary is about when Amaterasu discovers her outside. She smells her before seeing her, of course, and she can detect the sickness, as well, and from the street below, she huffs, groans, and then rumble-whines into a single, sharp arf.

Come out from behind that book, young lady. Don't think she won't find a way up—an obvious fact, because, yes, that is the sound of her long claws scraping the door, trying to see if it'll give. Then, claws clacking on the pavement again, and shrill-scraping now, while she paws at the window. A lot of bumping and shuffling, as she considers breaking in, or going around the building to access the second floor, even if it isn't from the inside of it.]

[adelphoi]

[ oh.

there are no less than two dogs now living at this residence, so she's grown accustomed to the occasional arf, but this one has an entirely different timbre, and it's coming from a relative down there direction. and then there's a racket of clawing -

alisaie snaps her book shut and sets it aside and climbs to her feet as quickly as she can - which admittedly is not very quickly, given she's dizzy and fevered. but she gathers up her blanket around her shoulders anyway and makes her way down the wooden stairs to unlatch the gate for her. ]

Hello, Pup.

c though it will become b if she says she's sick >:T

[crosspear]

This ominous wind hasn't pulled me down yet. How about yourself?

[With a name like SecondWind, it just has to be Gaius. He hasn't heard anything about her being sick—between helping to hunt for these mysterious associates and trying to help the natives when he can, Gaius has run himself a little more ragged than he's used to. But that's what teenage years are for, right?]

shhhh shhhhh...

[adelphoi]

I'm glad to hear it, I do hope that you were nowhere near the site.

I have been better, but I'm all right, thank you.

ii-b, 8]

[strictdiscipline]

[ There's no luck involved when it comes to Riza, quite simply because she lives with Alisaie and she's hardly going to abandon Alisaie even if they both ought to be elsewhere.

What little research they've done into the unfamiliar gas has stalled, shortage of breath and weakness throughout their whole body enough to send them to bed early most days. And as much as Riza hates bedrest, hates the lack of motion - and more importantly lack of progress - that comes with excessive sleep, she can't help but accept that the best route to recovery is through proper rest and nutrition.

Even if said route looks dimmer and dimmer with each passing day.

She's not in bed this particular day but curled up in one of the couches, a book gone forgotten in her lap as she stares listlessly through the window. It slips out of her lap, enough to startle her back into focus - and alert her housemate, apparently, soft footsteps enough to catch Riza's attention. ]

Alisaie?

[ A question, though whatever uncertainty had colored her tone originally dissipates at the sight of the blade in Alisaie's hand, gleaming in the low light. ]

Alisaie. [ Firmer this time, soothing. This isn't the first time either of them have seen and heard things that weren't there, but it is the first time either of them have gone armed. ] Put the sword down. There's no one her but us.

[ But apparently, even just that is enough. ]

8(

[adelphoi]

[ riza is speaking, but alisaie cannot hear her - her soft, soothing tones to her ears are twisted groans and breathless, horrible whispers, the rattling of the dead.

she does not have the wherewithal to completely understand that it's somewhat silly that a monster would be here, in this moment, all that registers to her fever addled mind is enemy, and must protect herself, and riza, and their shared home.

for it is not riza she sees, but a twisted, horrifying ashkin, its many faces contorted in agony and terror, its gnarled hands reaching, clawing, threatening.

her head is spinning, which is the only reason she misses when she strikes without warning, thrusting the deadly sharp tip of her rapier into the soft just beside riza's neck. with a frustrated cry she yanks it free and raises it to strike again. ]

Leave this place.. !

2-A 8))))

[sadustic]

[ It should come as no surprise that of the individuals out prowling the streets, Sadu is among their number. She's just on her way back to her own home (A temporary respite, chasing after associates all day works up the appetite after all) when the unsteady footsteps catch her attention.

Fortunately for Alisaie, Sadu's already snagged the collar of her sleepwear firmly in one fist, thereby preventing her from matching her charmingly muddy feet with a faceful of road grit.
The Khatun is mildly annoyed by this inconvenience, of course. ]

Mind your footing, whelp. Where are you off to with such haste?

welp..

[adelphoi]

[ .. sorry sadu she didn't see you there.

she kind of still doesn't see you there. alisaie's eyes turn toward the source of the voice and the restraint, but there's no recognition there. there's no real thought at all, just a distant, unfocused look, blind with fever. ]

You.. please let me go -

[ her voice is rough and gravelly, and immediately she is trying to pull away, to turn toward the road again. ]

I have to go..

2.a it's going down i'm yelling timberrrrrrr

[punshots]

[ It's awfully sad to say that Prompto has found a rhythm in this chaos, a semi-routine in the pitiable reality that is his life now. He wakes, he tends to her, he works, he tends to her, he crashes at the end of the day - and he tends to her. However, that's not to say it hasn't been a constant battle, deciding where to focus his time. Should he go out and search for more people branded with an "M", despite the fact that every one they've caught so far hasn't told them anything? Should he help test cures at the Institute, fetching things and running errands for the intellectuals hard at work there? Should he be in the marketplace, helping those merchants piece their lives back together when it was on his watch that they were so swiftly dismantled? Should he keep ferrying soup around to those who were ill, even though their ardent appreciation didn't mean they were getting any better?

Increasingly, it's been difficult to do any of those things when Alisaie is getting worse. At first, he'd been reluctant to recognize it, even as little things clawed at the edge of awareness. It's not just the fever that has him worried now. It's the unpredictable moodiness, the temporary lapses in the soundness of her mind. Of her memory. Those moments, however brief, when she looks at him, but doesn't really seem to see him.

It has to stop. How much more of this could they take?

Then Qrow's news breaks on the network, and finally, finally, there's something good he can take home with him. They're one step closer to a real cure, and no matter how impossible it might seem to get something from the Wyver right now, that's...just what they'll have to do, isn't it?

But even with all that considered, it's good news, and he takes a little extra time to himself today, to pick up another book for them to read, if she's feeling up for it, even more soup for dinner (because there's no way she's sick of that yet, right?) and - something else. She...might think it's totally lame when he gives it to her, but current circumstances being what they are...

Nudging the already-ajar door open, he calls out to her when he enters the flat in the evening, to give anyone who might be there plenty of warning that he's coming in - is it home, now? It feels too presumptuous, to call it as much, but for all intents and purposes, that's what this place is now.

That he doesn't hear her answer isn't terribly shocking. She could be a sleep - probably should be asleep - and she shouldn't be shouting anything, with the way her throat has been.

That he doesn't find her in her room, however, is shocking, like ice-cold lightning, straight to his core. It takes only a cursory search of the house to confirm the worst.

She's gone.

He bolts out the door, darting out into the street and rushing - gods, where is he rushing to? Where would she have gone? Why didn't she tell him she was leaving? She should absolutely shouldn't be. Not in her condition. Is - is he overreacting?

His gut is telling him otherwise, and as always, he'll rely on it.

He rushes down the thoroughfare, eyes zipping wildly around for a shock of white hair that he is so desperate to see, all the while, calling out her name. ]

Alisaie! Alisaie! This is s-some - [ dammit ] - game of hide 'n' seek -

[ Without even consciously deciding to, he starts down the path towards the Institute. Maybe habit would have taken her there, too. But even if it hasn't, he won't stop there. There's no stopping, until he's found her. ]

how could you make me read this much how rude of you

[adelphoi]

[ prompto hasn't been the only one trying valiantly to deny that this sickness is not mending, but progressing. it's been well over a week now and her fever and aches have not abated, only grown steadily worse, and no amount of sleep or pain medication seems to be able to keep it at bay for long.

worse, though, is how her mind is beginning to deteriorate. alisaie was raised a scholar, and a gifted one at that; louisoix had instilled in her a great zeal for the importance of learning, of study. more even than her sword, she cherishes her mind, her free thoughts, her dear memories - after all, with hydaelyn gone memories are all she has of home. of those she has lost, whose faces she will never see again, whose voices she will never hear. to think that she might lose her memories, her cognizance - gods, it's horrifying, more than she can bear. poor prompto is working so hard, and he's so terribly worried that she cannot bring herself to burden him further with her fears, but there are times when she is alone that she trembles in terror, her eyes filling with tears that she tries hard not to shed. she is not always successful.

she does what she can to combat it. memory games, thought exercises - alisaie repeats important names, retells herself important memories, all of this over and over like a mantra when she has the wherewithal to do it. after all, what else has she to do when she's abed so long? whether or not it helps against the memory lapses she cannot know for sure, but she must try. she cannot lose what is most important to her.

but sometimes the fog rolls over her mind, obscuring thought and reason and filling her with fever dreams. until today they had not manifested so clearly, until today they had never led her out of bed, out of her home.

but now - now her grandfather's face is so clear before her, his voice crisp as a crystal bell. she can make out every loose thread on his acton, the smile lines at the corners of his eyes, each exactly as she remembers them. it's him. if she can only catch up to him they can be together again, she can tell him all she has learned, show him how much she has grown. she can tell him about her new comrades, her friends, about prompto.

prompto..

his voice cuts through the haze, distant and occluded like she's hearing him several rooms away, or through a dream. prompto.. he's calling her name. alisaie hesitates, her dirty, bleeding feet aching beneath her but she hardly feels it, she's turning toward his voice, somewhere through the clinging mist to her left. prompto will help her. together, they can find him.. ]

Prompto -

[ her voice is like a croak, rough as sandpaper, and she turns to move toward him but then - then there's her grandfather's voice again, calling her away. she's no longer distracted, but moving toward it again, back on track. she'll find him.. she must. ]

text;

[rhygret]

Awful There's some sort of really rough cold going around and it looks like I caught it. I'm exhausted.

Aside from that though great.

[adelphoi]

Ah, you as well? I'm sorry to hear it.

prompto; stage 3 shenans

[adelphoi]

[ let it be said that evacuating while being deathly ill is no easy task.

the flight there is a bit quicker than those who ride below, but alisaie does not fancy being alone for so long. it's an incredibly new feeling that she does not at all enjoy, considering how independence is in her nature, but she does not trust herself. with each passing day this illness takes more and more and there is not very much of her left to function on its own, her energy, stamina and sanity all so heavily taxed. left alone to her own devices, who knows what she might do? follow a specter right off of the griffin, attack the nearest friend or civilian.. gods, she's become so dependent upon others but there's no getting around the fact that she requires no small amount of supervision.

nevertheless, once in wyver proper she must needs fend for herself for a time, and she is not the only one who is sick and enduring - it is difficult, but she manages. thankfully alisaie is frugal enough with her spending that she has plenty of silver on hand, and she chooses the simplest, easiest open space available, a small ground floor flat off the main thoroughfare, modest but livable. she hasn't the energy even for typing out an explanation, so she simply sends prompto a picture of the facade, including the number plate, for him to find whenever he arrives.

and then it's time for bed. drained and fading, she drops onto the dusty bed and is asleep before her head hits the pillow.

it's the coughing that wakes her some time later, hacking and painful and wet, and when she pulls her sleeve away from her mouth it's bright red with blood. the pillow too is stained, half dried blood crusting at her ears and nose, the corners of her mouth - another hallucination..? ]

[punshots]

[ The journey to Wyver nearly does him in with worry.

He wears it well enough, because he forces himself to, as he does. Everyone is tense, and uncertainty lays over the traveling party like a blanket. It's no small thing, to evacuate an entire city that large, and perhaps it's a small mercy that Prompto's role within the guard keeps him busy. He sees that streets and homes are empty, that wagons are loaded and secure, that everyone is on their way. He keeps his friends company, offers what he can in the way of an uplifting distraction, peppers Alisaie's phone with texts. Just simple messages, to let her know where they're at, to see how she's doing, if she's even able to respond. With the state of her, he's not expecting her to be able to communicate so easily, but it's hard to not let his heart clench up in his chest when he goes for hours without hearing from her.

When he receives her picture of the flat, he commits it to memory, memorizes it, and even then, when they finally do arrive in Wyver, he immediately asks for directions from a local on the quickest way to get there. It's telling of the rush he is in to see her that he hardly stops to marvel at the city they've just arrived in. He could go back and help unload the wagons later. For right now? He has to see her. It's not even a decision he has to consciously make.

So soon enough he finds the flat she rented out, calling out to her as soon as he's through the door. Maybe he should have thought ahead, to tell her he'd arrived and to make sure she was here - but she has to be, right? In her state she couldn't be out wandering around, unless, unless...

But then he hears the sound of her coughing from a room beyond, his heart slamming against his ribcage as he follows the sound of it to the bedroom, to her side, where he should be -

In an instance, the relief that floods him at the sight of her evaporates when he sees the blood. Temporarily paralyzed, all he can manage to do is stare, wide-eyed in abject fear, at the state he's found her in. Gods, there'd never been - she hadn't -

Is it getting worse? ]

A-Alisaie?

[ He hates it, how weak and fearful his voice sounds in that moment, because how could he allow himself to feel as much when she's suffering like this? And all at once he's moving again, swallowing hard as he climbs on his knees onto the bed next to her, cupping her face in his hands. ]

It's okay, sweetheart, I'm here, I-I'm here -

[ But it's not okay. Not at all. ]

hey it's time for the girlfriends to cry together

[regives]

[ Catching wind of everyone in Olympia moving from there to Wyver is, despite everything happening, is a blessing. Sometime after she had left with the small group of runaways that had formed with a mix of fugitives and friends she had found out that the number of people falling ill had multiplied. And while she saw it coming from a mile away considering Alisaie had been taking care of Riza, she'd much rather shoulder that pain instead.

It worsens when she meets with other bedridden individuals who had been hit with the illness. Her anxiety builds in her stomach and blatant concern is expressed on her features with curved brows and eyes that perfectly reflected the sympathy residing in the chambers of her heart. Even if she was not behind this attack and was foolishly roped into it to be burdened with the blame it hurts that there was the strong possibility that she could have stopped this.

It's all that she can think when she's at Alisaie's bedside. Biting her bottom lip as she laces her features with seems to be neutrality, though knowing Leanne, a girl who wears her emotions on her sleeve, she's unable to simply ignore when the symptoms appear and there's evident pain coursing through the girl's veins. Reaching out she grabs onto her hand, lacing fingers and allowing her to find a sense of security within their grasp. ]

Alisaie.

[ Her voice is soft in attempts to continue concealing the fear in her voice. ]

Breathe, Alisaie. Slowly. [ But for the love of God just keep breathing. ] I'm here. It'll be okay.

[ SOMEHOW... UGH. ]

im so here for this!!

[adelphoi]

[ there's so very much to be worried about that she can hardly keep track of it all anymore. riza is in terrible shape, leanne is vanished, prompto is working himself to the bone and alisaie - alisaie is this, reduced to pain and blood and dependence. it's awful, and terrifying, and it's been all she could do to hold herself together against it, to keep moving forward, one step at a time, even though it's getting harder and harder to look for the light at the end of the tunnel.

but when leanne shows up at last it's one thing to cross off the list of innumerable worries.

apologies, friend, that she is not looking.. better for your grand reappearance. alisaie's skin is ashen, save where it's flushed with fever. she's thin and exhausted and the blood won't stop - thin trickles of it from her eyes and nose and ears, not uncontrollable, but constant enough that it's stained her hair and the collar of her nightdress. the pain is the worst of it though, like hot knives driven through her very bones, the slightest movement or pressure a spark of agony.

that doesn't stop her from cracking a weary smile for leanne, however, and squeezing her hand as tightly as she can which, admittedly, is not very much. what's left of her voice is a croak, but she sounds awfully relieved. ]

I'm.. so glad to see you. You worried me, you little brat.