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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! ]

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[ alisaie has never been the sort of person to hide her feelings, to try to crush or censor them. of course it had always been a point of contention as she grew, sharlayans are notoriously stuffy folk, disciplined and strict, there was not much room for an ornery, emotional girl.

but for all they had tried to wring it out of her she has never lost it, it was too strong for her to ever grow out of. she does not put a lid on what she is feeling but allows herself to experience it, to express it, and while she might push it down in order to achieve something it is never for good, she must vent it somehow, in some way. it's healthy, it's necessary, holding in your pain will only make it fester, an infection of the soul waiting to take hold. she cannot allow that to happen to him, she cannot stand by idly while he wears himself down beneath the weight of all the things he refuses to feel because he does not consider it valid.

she can't force it, she can only do what she can to persuade him to open, to spill out and expel all that ichor and bile on his own, and she worries for a moment that he will refuse her, that he will swallow it all down again and go to a place where she cannot reach him - but in the end he does not disappoint her. he folds, and gods it's painful to see, but it's cathartic as well, and an absolute relief. ]

I know.

[ her words are so soft they're little more than a breath, and alisaie lifts her arms to slip them over his shoulders and pull him down, to guide his head beneath her chin so she can gather him up close, resting her flushed cheek against his hair. ]

Let it ache, love.

[ She tells him to ache, and so he aches, fiercely, with his entire being, radiant, unspent emotion. To have his friends one moment and lose them the next was a reality of this world, one of the bittersweet truths of an existence that could give as easily as it could take. And...it will take him a long while to recover. For losing his dearest friends, maybe he'll never fully recover. They've made him into so much of who he is, been the guiding point in his life for so long, and now, for the first time since the day he became friends with Noctis all those years ago, he's bereft of the brotherhood the four of them had built together. He will still have to figure out who he is without them, a task which he had started in the snowy fields of Niflheim, when he'd decided to face his worst fears.

But that could wait - would have to wait, because for now, he just lets himself hurt.

He rests his head, somehow heavy and light at the same time, against her heart, his grief hiccuping out of him in waves, holding her so tightly his fingers tremble. There's nothing to do then but to cry, to whimper beneath the weight of his reality, and let it all out. It's cleansing in a way he's never really known, like she's stripped his soul down to the barest parts of himself and coaxed them out.

And finally, after however many minutes it takes, his eyes and mouth dry, leaving him feeling wrung out, his heart exhumed. It's painful - oh, is it painful - but there's a visceral, exquisite beauty in it, too, to feel so bare and not be ashamed of it.

She'd told him to let it ache, so he had.

His voice rises, crackling and swollen, at long last, though it is barely more than a whisper. ]

I love you.

[ And he tips his chin up, pressing a gentle kiss just above the neckline of her nightdress, near her heart. ]

[ she says nothing, for there is nothing left to say, nothing she could say to ease his suffering. grief is a terrible, all encompassing thing, it hits with the force of a train and it does not relent, dragging you beneath the rails until it hurts so badly you're sure it will kill you. there is no rest, no reprieve, it is a deep wound that only time can heal. and even then, there is a scar that you will carry with you always. it is a pain that you can never fully escape.

but there is nothing wrong with that. pain, like joy, is simply a part of existence, it is something you cannot avoid, as inevitable as death. all those who live suffer losses, some small and some great, and it is from that pain that you grow stronger - at least, that is what alisaie believes. without the grief she has known in her life she could never truly appreciate the love, or all the good things she has, the sweet memories and fair times that make it all worthwhile.

and so she holds him, and she nuzzles into his hair, dragging her fingers against the nape of his neck in slow, soothing circles. each wracking sob tears at her heart but she can only endure it and hold to him, to be his tether in the storm of his grief, weathering the crash of every wave until at last it begins to lose strength and slowly, with each breath, he settles. and even after he is stilling, as his breath begins to even out she continues to hold to him, humming softly into his hair, drawing her fingers over his nape.

at his kiss, his raw words, she smiles and squeezes her arms around his shoulders. ]

I know.

[ she teases, gently, drawing a hand down his back and up again. ]

And I love you.

[ He inhales and exhales deeply, a heavy, weighty thing that stretches his chest wide, back rising and falling beneath her hands. He lets his head rest against her again, because after a good cry like that, he's drained. What he wouldn't give to just...close his eyes and stay like this, the three of them curled up together on her bed. He yearns for the comfort her embrace brings, and if he stayed here, he could better keep an eye on her condition. It's easy to rationalize, with her surrounding him, and something tells him that even with as sick as she is, she wouldn't hear of him going back to stay at his place, empty and lonely. ]

Can I...stay here tonight?

[ Maybe he should have grabbed a change of clothes while he was over there, too, but he'd never be so presumptuous without asking first, even if this isn't the first time they've shared a bed.

Not that...they should share the bed. Probably. He could make one out of the couch, and then she wouldn't have to feel guilty for him keeping too close. But man, it's going to be hard to move from this little spot of warmth and peace he's found. ]

[ it feels like a bubble of tension has been popped, like the very space around them is relaxing slowly with every breath. it might have been painful for him to release it all but it was for the best, and she's sure that in the morning he'll feel the better for it. it will still ache, but with hope it will be a bearable pain, one he won't have to work quite so hard to keep at bay. ]

Of course.

[ she says it in a way that suggests she wouldn't have allowed otherwise because yes, prompto is absolutely correct in assuming that she would never permit him to go sleep alone in that empty place. he'll stay here, and peo too, and hopefully it will help to chase away the shadows. alisaie holds onto him for a short while longer, drawing her hands down and up his back before she's pulling away a bit. ]

Is there anything you need to get?

[ As much as he'd like to say there isn't so he doesn't have to leave once again, there...are probably a few things he should pick up, if he's going to be crashing here. From the way she answers, it sounds like she won't be letting him sleep by himself anytime soon, either. Which sounds - wonderful, in a dazed way that feels unreal. But he would be spending plenty of time over here while she's sick, even if his friends hadn't returned to stasis. Maybe it would have come to this anyway. ]

...Yeah, a few things. [ A toothbrush, clean clothes, toiletries...he may be heartbroken, but hygiene is still important! He tucks his chin down to sniff at his collar. He has been running through the city all day, in and out of infected areas, handling spoiled food...man, he cuddled her like this??

A grin tugs one side of his mouth, apologetic. ] ...Aaand a shower.

[ that charming little smile warms her heart, and she must try very hard to resist the desire to lean in and kiss him right on that mouth, but somehow she manages. he's already sounding a little more like himself without forcing it. ]

Mm, you are a bit ripe.

[ she teases - well, sort of. she can certainly smell the day's sweat on him, he's been hard at work, and she doesn't much mind but a bath at the end of a day like this would be a therapy in and of itself, she's sure. washing away the pain and fear and hurt, and she dares to risk a warm kiss to his forehead, and another to his temple, because he'll be scrubbing himself momentarily. please don't try to lick your own face, prompto. ]

Go on, then.

[ He'll try to abstain.

It's hard not to kiss her mouth as he goes, but he opts for her cheek instead, and this time when he draws away, he appears as though he's a thousand pounds lighter than before. The hurt isn't gone, and it wouldn't be for some time, and even aside from his grief there was still so much troubling his heart. But he's shared it, he knows now that this is where he belongs tonight. With her. ]

I'll be back in a jiff.

[ And without explaining what a jiff is, he squeezes her hand once more before stepping out again, leaving Peo to keep her company. There's no question to whether or not he'll return this time. It's a quick trip, though he's sure to wash up adequately so she won't give him a hard time for those tender touches they'd shared. He packs a bag of things he'll need to spend the night, changes into a comfy pair of sweats and a tank to sleep in, and leaves his hair the fluffy mess it is as it dries from the shower.

Now he's really earning that chocobo comparison.

Then he's on his way back. It's - strange. Two weeks ago...he'd never had guessed he'd be preparing to spend the night crashing at Alisaie's, but...he's never been a good guesser.

So he steps through her bedroom door for the third - and final - time that night, eyes bright but tired as they meet hers. He clicks the door shut behind him this time and drops his bag to the floor, but not before pulling a treat for Peo out of one if its pockets. ]

Figured I owed him an apology treat, at the very least.

[ she isn't idle while he's gone, of course.

alisaie had not been prepared to host him tonight, so she slides out of bed to clean up, to swipe away any tissues and change the sheets, to scrub her hands and her face but gods even that much seems such an insurmountable task. by the time he's returning she's just sitting at the edge of her bed again in a fresh nightdress, weary and warm and coughing into a handkerchief.

it's horribly frustrating, to be so exhausted by menial tasks that should be simple and easy, but even after spending the entire day in and out of naps just the simple process of straightening up has exhausted her.

still, she has a sweet smile for him when he reappears (and the coughs abate), and she wipes the water from her eyes before she's drawing back into the bed. ]

Welcome back. [ she says around a scratchy voice, clearing her throat. peo hops up onto the blankets near her feet, turning a circle and flopping down comfortably, clearly more than happy to spend the night. ] Peo ate while you were gone, but I'm sure he will not begrudge you a treat.

[ ...Her voice sounds awful, and don't think he doesn't notice her wiping at her eyes. But there's nothing they can do for it now - except sleep, really, which will hopefully ease her suffering somewhat, and tomorrow...

Tomorrow is another day.

He slides onto the bed next to her, holding the treat out to Peo so he can scarf it down in one bite (come on, at least try to savor it!), before tucking himself under the sheets and snuggling close, finding one of her hands with his and slotting their fingers together. ]

Got it in one. [ His gaze turns to her, heartbeat picking up a bit even though she'd told him this was okay, told him he should stay with her. ]

A-are you sure...you don't want me to sleep on the couch, or something?

[ He's just. Making sure. ]

[ .. she really should make him sleep on the sofa. she's changed the sheets and pillowcases, and so long as she doesn't, you know, bleed on him or cough directly into his mouth it's highly unlikely he'll get sick, but.. gods, she worries anyway. alisaie bites her lip.

but then, instead of sending him away she simply turns away from him and wriggles in close, pressing her back to his chest and using their entwined fingers to tug his arm around her middle and hold it there.

she's warm, uncomfortably so, but it's worth a little discomfort to be this close to him, to sleep with his arms around her. ]

Just hold me like this.

[ it'll have to do. this way, even if she wakes up coughing it'll be away from him, and not towards. clearly this is good enough for her, because she soon reaches with her free hand to flick off the bedside light, plunging them into comfortable darkness broken only by a sliver of slanting lamplight filtering through beneath her window curtains. ]

[ It's the answer he wants to hear, though maybe not the one he should want to hear. He doesn't want her keeping herself awake with anxiety about possibly making him sick, and would his presence really be enough to -

No, he can't let himself think like that. Not now, when she's pressing so softly against him, guiding his arms around her, though they take little coaxing. He breathes in deeply, settling snugly against her as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. ]

Okay.

[ ...She's so unnaturally warm. Gods, he's so worried about her.

But rest is what the two - really, the three of them desperately need, and her form gently curved within his quiets his thoughts enough to allow for his utter exhaustion to take over. It's mercifully easy to let sleep take him, then, though his rest is littered with dreams, reliving the day, imagining what the next one might bring. They pepper his night with bouts of wakefulness that claw at his chest - but then he feels her form against him, her steady, unfaltering presence even when she herself is ill, and he's able to sleep once more. ]

[ prompto isn't the only one to sink right to it. alisaie is a good sleeper even at the worst of times, but with his arms around her and the scent of him so close, and peo curled between them like a little warm bundle - it has been a difficult day, but they are content, and it isn't long at all before the room falls all but silent for the sound of their steady breathing.

she sleeps soundly through the night, through his bouts of wakefulness, with her fingers held loose in his own and her body curled comfortably. it's just before dawn when she wakes, groggy and disoriented and far, far too hot.

groaning softly against her pillow, alisaie shifts, exhaling hard, and she's trembling with an impossible chill in her bones despite the fact that she's slick with sweat enough to dampen her hair and nightdress, and the sheets beneath her. her head is spinning and for a moment she can't remember where she is, what is happening, until peo approaches with a soft whine, licking unhelpfully at her face.

moving feels impossibly difficult, but she shifts anyway in the tangled, sweat-damp sheets, reaching for the glass of water she's left on the nightstand but she's dizzy and groggy and she knocks it instead. it crashes to the floor with a noisy splash and shatter, accompanied by a breathless, colorful swear. ]

[ He starts so stir even before she reaches for that water glass, even watchful in his not-so-deep sleep for anything that might signal a change in her. What he hopes, of course, when she starts to stir, is that her fever has broken, but as full consciousness filters back to him, he's aware of the veritable furnace she's become, and the stark contrast that cools over him when she pulls away.

He's rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when she knocks the glass to the floor, but with the sound of it shattering he absolutely bolts upright, and reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder. ]

Alisaie? [ Everything about him is concern: his tone, his pinched brow, his hand lifting to press against her damp forehead. Gods. ]

You're burning up.

[ That's an understatement. ]

I'm.. fine.

[ the words sound weak even to her own ears, and her voice is breathless and thick and rushed.

yet somehow, what's most important in this moment is cleaning up the mess she's made. when you're feeling awful it's easy to default to the simple tasks in front of you, so that is what she does. alisaie sits forward, which takes far more effort than she would like and gods it makes her head spin just to sit up. a soft groan and she shuts her aching eyes, dropping her face into her palms until the world stops tilting.

she doesn't want to worry him. it's only a fever. a shiver shoots down her spine and she shakes her head, slowly. ]

Just a.. bit warm.

[ tossing the blankets off of her legs will surely help. ]

[ Hey, don't steal his catchphrase? Especially when it's markedly clear that she isn't fine, not in the least, with the way she's doubling over and shivering, and icy fingers squeeze his heart at the sight of her. So much for a good night's rest easing her affliction. ]

Warm? You're roasting. [ Yeah, he's not buying it. She's worse than she was last night, and his stomach turns over uncomfortably. Was this...how it was going to be? Would she just keep getting worse and worse until -

Until what?

- No, there's no answer he can entertain other than her making a full recovery. In the meantime, he'd just have to see to it that her discomfort is eased as much as possible.

His hand moves to her back, circling over her shivering spine, trying to ease, to reassure. ]

Hey, I've got you. Will you lie back down? Just - try to relax. I've got you.

[ She'd taken care of him last night. Now he would return the favor. ]

[ roasting he says, and alisaie can't help the breathless laugh she gives in response because yes, that's exactly how it feels. her flesh is on fire but her bones are freezing and her nightdress is sticking uncomfortably to her skin and she feels awful. there's no hiding it, and she was foolish to think that she could, most especially from prompto. hasn't she chastised him a hundred times in the past for doing the same? for minimizing his discomfort so as not to be a burden?

his hand touches her back and she sighs, relaxing minimally beneath his touch, and when she looks toward him over her shoulder she's offering a weak smile. he's so kind, so sweet, but still she hates to make him worry.

lying back sounds like.. a good idea. ]

I'm sorry.

[ he'd been sleeping so peacefully, and peo too, and now they're both fretting over her like maids; this couldn't have waited 'til tomorrow, could it? he's got a busy day ahead of him after a busy day before, he should be resting, not up and about fussing over her. but she lies back anyway and wipes the sweat from her brow with her knuckles, breathing quick and shallow, anything to alleviate the heat. ]

[ It may not have been the full night of sleep either of them needed, but for the weariness clinging to his bones, he's wide awake and attentive, focused wholly on her and seeing to her needs. It gives him a direct task and purpose, which may be the better thing, in the end. ]

If I don't get to be sorry, neither do you. [ His hand smooths up her neck before folding over her cheek, his thumb running soothingly over her hot, sticky skin. There's nothing chastising in his tone, even if it's firm and assured. Taking care of her isn't a burden. It never has been, and never will be.

He lingers there a moment before he pulls away and slips out of the bed, crossing to the door and opening it soundlessly. He isn't gone but half a minute, and then he's back, a cool washrag in his hands that is immediately set to her forehead and a fresh glass of water set on the nightstand when he returns to the bed. ]

Are you nauseous?

[ Does he need to get her a barf bucket and hold he hair back... ]

[ while he's gone she wriggles against the sheets in an attempt to get comfortable but there's really no achieving it. she's too cold and too hot at once, her head is pounding like it's being beaten with a hammer, and her body is achy and sore all over - there's no getting comfortable, there is only enduring.

the cool washcloth feels good though, and the moment it touches her burning brow she sighs low and soft, closing her eyes against the dim light. peo has wriggled his way closer, tucked up against her waist with his head resting on her belly and he's uncomfortably warm but she can't bring herself to shoo him away. ]

Just a bit.

[ it's part and parcel with a flu, and though she's yet to be sick it has flared up once or twice the day before. but it's certainly no emergency, at least not yet. barf bucket probably not necessary at the moment.. but thanks prompto.. how romantic. she's not so sick that she couldn't make it to the bathroom.

probably. okay, maybe not. ]

[ Hey, when you hold another person's hair back while they ralph and you still love them, you know it's the Real Deal. He seems satisfied on that front for now, though he'll be mindful of it, because it won't be good for either of them if she barfs in the bed. DON'T BARF IN THE BED, ALISAIE...

Unwavering: ] Will you tell me when that one stops feeling cool? [ He gives her a glance over again, and almost picks Peo up. His body heat can't be doing her any favors right now. Instead, he adds: ] Where's your broom?

[ While she takes a moment to try and cool down, he can clean up that mess of glass. Another thing they don't need to worry about tomorrow. ]

[ DON'T TELL HER WHAT TO DO SHE'LL BARF IN THE BED IF SHE WANTS... but okay that isn't a good way to prove a point. she won't barf in the bed.

her eyes crack open once he's pulling away though, following him blearily. he shouldn't have to clean up her mess - but someone must, she supposes, and so she sighs after a moment and drops one hand to draw it gently over peo's head, scratching behind his ears. ]

The kitchen.

[ this sucks. 8( ]

[ It does suck, but for better or for worse, her being sick and having a task for him to focus on keeps his mind from dwelling on...everything else. He slips out of the room and return a moment later with the broom and dustpan, ever watchful of her and he starts to sweep up the glass.

Preoccupied, be starts to hum a tune idly, soft and melodic at her bedside. There's not a terrible amount of glass but he doesn't want to miss a single piece of it, so he stoops low, looking for any glint he can catch sight of.

He breaks off from his hummed song only to ask: ] Is the rag still cool enough?

[ for as miserable as she feels, it's.. quite nice to have prompto here. even when he isn't talking or touching her, his simple presence, knowing he's within arms' reach should she want or need anything at all.. it's a comfort. she does not want to rely on him overmuch, it isn't in her nature, but it's still quite nice to have him nearby.

his humming is soothing background noise, and alisaie shuts her eyes again, listening to the sound of his voice while he works. ]

Hm? Oh..

[ it's certainly warmed significantly, but she turns it over to apple the cooler side to her skin. ]

It's all right.

I'll grab a fresh one in just a shake.

[ Once he's done cleaning up this glass. He continues humming as he resumes the task, and once he's satisfied there's no more shards hiding where bare feet can find them, he's in and out of the room again to throw out the glass and return with another cool washrag. Hopefully no one minds he's raiding the linen closet.

He sits on the bed again to switch out the washrag, eyes lidded a bit heavier now that the adrenaline rush is wearing off. Peo turns his head lazily to lick at one of Prompto's hands, while he busies himself with smoothing Alisaie's hair back. ]

How's my bedside manner so far? Need your pillows fluffed? A foot massage, maybe?

[ Please, just. He'll do anything to ease her discomfort. ]

[ with the blankets off and the cool rag on her head she's beginning to feel somewhat more coherent, even if she's still damp with sweat and shivering deep in her bones. at least she doesn't feel like she's about to combust at any moment.

so when prompto sits beside her again, pushing back her sticky hair she hums softly and shuts her eyes, lifting one hand to drag it gently against his hip, for no other reason than to maintain contact. ]

No, none of that, please.

[ she says through a weary smile, before tugging at the hem of his shirt. ]

Your bedside manner is impeccable. Lie down and get more rest.

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punshots - 2017-10-09 07:29 (UTC) - Expand

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adelphoi - 2017-10-09 07:48 (UTC) - Expand

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i can't believe she han solo'd him

8') puts promptos hair in buns

couple's costumes

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