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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! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A-Alisaie, thank the Six, you're okay -

[ For one blistering, wonderful moment, all that matters is that he's found her, and he folds her into his arms, gentle but urgent, the fear that's build damming up in his heart starting to burst, as tears of relief rush to his eyes. Gods, he'd be so afraid, so afraid, when he'd found her empty bedroom. It's only now, with her in his arms once again, that he truly recognizes just how fearful he had been. But now, she's here. She's safe, and that is the most important thing.

A moment can only last so long, though, and as she starts to speak in her harsh, sickly croak, her words slide like ice down his spine. Her grandfather...here?

But that didn't - there weren't any new arrivals - surely, they would have heard -

He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes, one of his hands lifting to smooth over her hair. ]

Here? You...you saw him here?

[ If...that's what she thinks, then it's no surprise at all that she left home in the state that she is. Is - that what this is? A cruel trick her illness is playing on her? The thought makes his stomach churn. ]

[ prompto's arms are warm and secure and for a brief moment she feels so.. so tired. it would be so easy to close her eyes and lean into him and return to her bed. mayhaps that is what she should do. why is she out here, anyway? what is her purpose, here..?

but then it comes again, his voice so clear, and with a gasp she's jumping away, though her hands still grasp hard at prompto's arms. ]

There! Didn't you hear it? He's here, as I said. He's.. he's calling to me..

[ and just as quickly as she'd grabbed him her hands release, and alisaie turns, stumbling over her own feet in her haste. there he is, louisoix standing at the end of the dim alleyway, his smile soft and warm and just as she remembers it. the old man holds out his arms and with a joyous, torturous cry alisaie lurches forward, hurrying over the uneven flagstones toward him, this phantom that exists only in her mind and memory. thankfully, for prompto, it leads only to a dead end. ]

I've missed you so much - please don't go..

[ The relief that had been so quick to flood him is swiftly replaced by a cold dread as Alisaie pulls free of his embrace, hearing a voice that he cannot and turning away from him to pursue a phantom. A memory, of someone she loves, of someone she talked about so often her adoration of him had been crystal clear from the early days of their friendship, long before they'd become lovers. Of someone she'd give anything to see again, and that her mind would play this trick on her now, of all times, is unspeakably cruel.

Pale and shuddering, Prompto hesitates a moment before following her, his heart breaking as she calls out to her past. Her grandfather. He can't let this go on. He can't, even if she fights him - he can't watch her go through this, watch her stumble and chase a dream that is to good to be true. He's been so helpless, trying to keep her healthy, and failing. Every moment of these past days since the bomb have felt like an impossible battle, and maybe this is, too. But he won't lose her to this. Not without a fight. He won't.

So when he reaches her, so small and feeble and trembling with fever and emotion, he reaches out, winding his arms around her to pull her back against his chest and tucking his chin against her neck. ]

Alisaie...please. [ He breathes into her hair, eyes squeezed shut, the sound of his voice thick. ]

...Please. Come home with me.

[ Stay with him, where's it's painful and frightening and difficult - and real. ]

[ his arms close around her again, and the sound she makes can only be described as pitiful. her heart aches, heavy and bleeding at the flicker of lucidity at the back of her mind that tells her this is not real, this cannot be real, grandfather is dead, he is gone. but it's such a very small voice, and her desperation and her love are so strong, she wants so badly to believe it.

but even as she reaches out to him her hand passes through his arm, his light is fading. ]

No, no please -

[ doesn't prompto understand how important this is? how necessary that she reach him? her head is spinning now, the dream and reality mixed and at war with one another, the image of her grandfather flickering in and out of her field of vision like a damaged video reel. she cries out, hot tears streaming freely down her cheeks, cutting tracks through the dust on her face; she's desperate and frenzied, straining weakly against his hold, but prompto is strong, and he is solid, and warm..

alisaie exhales hard and trembling, her body falling slack in his grasp, easing back against him, boneless and drained. yet still her hands reach, her fingers flex toward the empty space left behind when the phantom fades at last, cold reality settling over her like a suffocating veil. ]

I..

[ but she cannot finish. whatever she'd meant to say is lost in a broken whine as alisaie squeezes her eyes closed and turns her face into his neck. ]

[ Her strangled cries lance right through him, and it takes all his force of will to stay standing, to not let his knees buckle beneath him and sink with her onto the rough cobblestones beneath them. And wouldn't that just be so easy? To let this most recent injustice envelop them, to give into the ache, that tantalizing sorrow that's been hovering like a cloud over him for days now. He's...so damn tired...

But it's not a choice; not really. There's only one option, no matter how his heart is breaking for her, for everything she's suffered and is still suffering with no signs of reprieve. She buries her face against his neck, and though a sob shudders through him, he keeps one arm tight around her while he kneels, just enough, to scoop his other arm under her knees and pick her up. ]

I've got you, sweetheart.

[ He starts back down the alleyway, holding her so tight, like she's the one keeping him up and not the other way around. ]

[ he lifts her up and all at once she feels how exhausted she is, all the fight draining out of her with the dissipation of the waking dream. she aches all over, deep down to her bones, in her mind and in her heart. it's been so hard to stay strong, to fight this thing that wears her down, and alisaie is a spitfire by nature, resistant to pain and fear and hardship but gods this illness is relentless in its cruelty. rather than deliver a hard blow it is instead chipping away at her slowly, bit by bit, eroding her body and spirit both.

she'll get through it. she knows she will. she must. but some days are just so hard.

thank the twelve for prompto, though. he has been her tireless support, and even now, through all this he has come to her rescue. it makes her feel.. weak, useless, a burden and it's a feeling she reviles but can find no remedy for, when each day seems harder than the last. but she holds to him anyway, her arms slipping over his shoulders by rote as if they know where they belong, and though it shames her she allows his voice to wash over her, warm and familiar and reassuring. and she cries against his skin, soaking the collar of his shirt - gods, how long has it been since she's wept like this? certainly she's shed a tear here and there since her arrival, but this is not an errant tear, she is weeping openly, hiccuping between quick breaths, holding to him with the desperation of a woman swept up by a brutal tide.

she's so godsdamned helpless. powerless. weak. all she can hope is that prompto will not judge her for it too harshly, that her need of him will not drive him away or color his opinion. she can't bring herself to put it to words, all she can do is hold to him, but at least by the time they're home again her mind has settled, even if her heart has not. her faculties are her own again. ]

[ For as much as her tears rip at his heart, the grief of all things settling over both of them like a blanket, there's the smallest measure of relief of seeing her - feeling her cry, because he knows it means she's truly become herself again. This sorrow is her own, not born of some cruel illusion, but of the own pain that's in her heart. Gods, he doesn't know how she's gone so long without breaking down completely. It's only been a matter of days since their roles were reversed, and he'd wept while she held him, while she gave him allowance to just hurt. There's nothing more he could give her now than that same release, that same reassurance, for while her tears won't change their damned situation, they will also spend her emotions in a way that words just can't.

So he weeps quietly with her, silent tears falling from his eyes as hers soak his collar, every few moments offering her words of peace and comfort. All of this is so unfair, so cruel, so undeserved. But they have to keep moving, even in the literal sense right now, as the journey back to the flat feels like an eternity but his feet carry him onward.

Finally he's ascending the stairs again, legs all but trembling, but they keep him upright as he carries her over the threshold and ushers her back to her bedroom where he can set her gingerly upon the bed. ]

[ alisaie is often terrible at taking her own advice. for all she had held prompto and encouraged him to hurt, she'd had such a hard time allowing the same for herself. yet it's cathartic nonetheless, every breathless sob like infection being leeched from a wound, and by the time he sets her down onto her bed again she is feeling..

.. better is not really the best word for it. relieved, perhaps, as if the crushing weight on her chest has lessened somewhat, even if she can't help but feel sheepish for the tear tracks on her face and the state of her puffy, red rimmed eyes.

she doesn't know what to say. her words are crowded at the back of her throat, jumbled and jockeying for dominance, none of them fitting together. so at last she simply looks down toward her scraped, filthy feet, and says: ]

I'm.. dirty.

[ For how little the reality of their situation has changed, there is, at least, something familiar, something safer, about finding himself in her room with her again. She's no longer out wandering the roads in search of a ghost, and he won't be leaving again tonight - oh no, not after that.

One arm still around her shoulders, he follows her gaze down to her feet, her poor, bloodied feet. Maybe she'll take him up on that foot massage offer now...hah. ]

So, what'll be? Hot shower? Luxurious bubble bath? I can, um - [ in spite of everything, in spite of them being well beyond the point of propriety, a flush of red rushes his cheeks ] - h-help, however you need me to. Just say the word.

[ He's here, to do anything and everything she needs him to. ]

[ prompto stop being such a prude you've seen her naked??

for a moment she doesn't answer, though, she just.. leans against his side, for a rare moment allowing herself to rest her full weight against him. where would she be now, if not for him? would she still be out there, chasing a ghost, wandering under the wheels of a moving carriage? her stomach is tight with misgiving; this was a close shave, could have been something worse than what it turned out to be. she has some considerations to make.

but for now she'll take this moment, leaning into his warmth, and she tilts her head to press a kiss to his neck, then another; what she wouldn't give to kiss him properly, but this will have to do. ]

A bath sounds.. lovely.

[ hot water is just what the doctor ordered. it feels like a great struggle to move at all, but alisaie soon forces herself up to her feet again, one hand dragging gratefully through his hair. ]

[ He's not being a prude, he's being respectful!!!

It's a moment the both need, to just exist together, quietly, leaning into each other - though he lets her do most of the leaning. Her disappearance and his subsequent return with her has left him feeling raw and bare, his heart burst open, and now he needs this moment to just let himself breathe. To process everything that just happened. It'd been...awful, to find her gone, to learn the reason why. But it could have been so much worse, in so many ways.

It's the little things.

She stands and he's quick to follow, no matter how much he savors the feeling of her fingers carding through his hair. He looks her over, ready to scoop her up again if she winces or sways on her feet. ]

I can get it started for you.

[ It's such a small thing, to go turn on the bathwater. He wishes he could do more. ]

[ being respectful involves blushing??

for a moment alisaie opens her mouth to respond, ready to refute him because of course she doesn't enjoy the fussing, but - she stops and sighs softly, the hand that was in his hair now gliding down his face instead, and along his jaw. ]

Very well.

[ she doesn't want to ask any more of him than he has already given, but she's known prompto long enough now to know that giving him something to do, allowing him to help, will be better for him than refusing him. prompto needs something to do, he needs to help, even if he's tired, so she'll allow it.

she does wince, however, because i mean, it's impossible not to with her feet scraped and bruised as they are, but that doesn't stop her from walking on her own anyway. it's not as if the bathroom is a far trip. ]

[ When you're Prompto, it does!!!

She understands him all too well, nodding into her touch before he takes the lead towards the bathroom. That, at least, spares him from seeing her wince, though when he's made it to tub to start the water running warm and turns back to face her, worry seizes his features anew. ]

How bad is it?

[ At least he won't make her feel so helpless by picking her up again. He knows her well, too, and how her increasing need for care rattles her. She's not able to do the sort of things she's used to, and now, even her mind seems to be slowly betraying her. Letting her walk on her own two feet is such a simple thing, and it's heartrending that that counts as a victory. But with the way things have gone today, it does. ]

[ prudeto you mean?? ]

I'm sure it looks worse than it is.

[ as most injuries are wont to. her feet look bloody and they're filthy with dirt and street grime but nothing feels broken or freely bleeding, beneath all the mess it's a handful of cuts, scrapes and bruises, nothing a bit of ointment and a bandage won't fix. if only the rest were so easy.

following him into the washroom, alisaie stops and watches him for a moment. he looks so worn, so tired, he's been working so very hard, how he is still on his feet is an absolute mystery. alisaie can only guess that he is still moving because he must, that if he stops he fears he may fall apart. exhaling softly, she begins to carefully strip down (try not to explode, prompto, this is serious!!), discarding her nightdress on the ground at her feet. like all the rest of her, it's dusty from the streets - how long had she been out there..?

she's still dizzy - these days she's always dizzy - so she's cautious about climbing into the tub, using prompto's shoulder to keep herself as steady as she can before settling into the warm water with a shudder. with her legs tucked up, she rests her arms on her knees, and her chin atop her arms, watching him with tired, baleful eyes. ]

And I'm.. sorry. You shouldn't have had to - that is, you work so hard and..

[ .. and he shouldn't have to come home to more work, to have to care for her and chase her down through the streets. ]

[ i think you just invented the worst word in the english language

But to his credit, he manages to keep his composure as she starts to undress, too preoccupied by that very same question to remember to blush. How long had she been out there? It must have been awhile, for the state of her nightdress and her feet, and gods, what if she had wandered even further away? He'd been incredibly lucky to find her as quickly as he did.

It's...hard to be grateful for that at the moment.

His grip is steady, careful as he helps her ease into the tub, and it's not until she's settled into the water that he drops down to sit on the toilet, hunched over and resting his elbows on his knees. Man, if he just closed his eyes, he could fall asleep right here...it's been a long time since he's been this exhausted, mentally and physically. Not since Eos.

The sound of her voice snaps him out of his reverie, though, his head snapping up to meet her eyes, donning a wan smile after a heartbeat. ]

You don't have anything to be sorry for. I-I'm sorry I can't do more.

[ Would that he could split himself twelve ways and accomplish everything he wants to. But he can't, and what he is able to do doesn't seem good enough.

He won't burden her with thoughts like those, though. She's already suffering so much - this time, he won't add to it. ]

If you want, I can stay here with you tomorrow. I'll make us a big ol' breakfast - honest! - and we can read through a whole book and play with Peo and...just...

[ Just...get away from the world for awhile, together.

But they can't get away from it, not really. Not while she's still sick. Not while she's getting worse. ]

[ he lists off all these things that are so mundane and yet, in this moment, they seem so wonderful; it's a testament to how hard they have been tried that something so simple as a good breakfast and a day home with books and the dog sounds like absolute heaven.

all at once, alisaie feels her eyes beginning to fill with tears again, a flush rising to her cheeks, her expression tightening as she tries to keep them at bay but she cannot. they spill readily in fat droplets, and a breath hiccups out of her, something halfway between a sob and a laugh, sorrowful and happy all at once. ]

I love you.

[ so much. so much her heart aches with it. the rush of fondness that spills over her is near overwhelming, and all she wants to do is reach for him, to clutch to him but instead she only tightens her own grip against her arms and laugh-hiccups again, tearful and exhausted and relieved. ]

I think.. yes, I would love that.

[ surely he would feel better were he working, keeping busy, but gods he needs a rest, he's all but nodding off here, fully dressed in a well-lit bathroom. it will ease her heart to know that he will spend at least one day more or less off his feet, relaxing and enjoying her and peo's company and gods, she hates to admit it but she does not want to be alone. mayhaps in the morning she will feel differently but in this moment she can't imagine spending the next day in this house without him. she wipes away her tears with her knuckles but there's little point, they keep coming, smudging up the dust on her face but she can't stop smiling anyway. ]

[ At first, the oncoming signs of her tears make him worry that he's said the wrong thing, that maybe he should have told her he won't rest again until there's a cure, until someone can fix this. But of course, that's not the case. Her tears are not born of pain alone, even if they're a part of it, and she says those wonderful words to him. They ring like music in his ears, and place a full, genuine smile on his lips, even as his heart aches for her falling tears. Man, the tears they've shed over these past two weeks could probably fill up that bath tub, and then some.

And then he's on his knees crouching over the side of the tub, one hand reaching to cup her dusty, tear-streaked cheek and tip her forehead to his. His eyes are closed against the threat of more tears, though there's the sound of them lining his voice. ]

I love you, too.

[ And that's why it hardly feels like a sacrifice at all to take a day off, to let himself rest, to be with her. There's nothing he wants more right now. It doesn't even prickle at him, like he's being selfish; more than anything, it feels like a need.

He thumbs away her tears, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath. ]

We're gonna get through this. I promise. They figured out part of the cure today, they - we're gonna be alright.

[ He can't let himself or her believe otherwise. Finally, he opens his eyes, searching hers. ]

Okay?

[ it feels like a great weight off of her shoulders, just the simple knowledge that she won't be alone tomorrow, that she won't need to worry about him, and he won't need to worry about her, and they can just.. rest. exist. the fact that alisaie is just as okay with it is proof positive that they need it, considering neither of them are the type to sit back and let the world move around them when there are things to be done. mayhaps it's a lesson learned, to better gauge their own limitations and take them into consideration.

.. at least once in awhile.

when he comes near she's leaning toward him instinctively, and with a cough of a laugh she shuts her watery eyes and turns her face into his palm, nuzzling his warm skin and pressing a kiss there, and another, and a third. for the first time in too long it feels like what he's saying is true, that they will get through this, that they're not feeding themselves a lie simply to continue getting by. ]

Of course.

[ a deep breath, and alisaie sits a little straighter, squeezing his uplifted hands with her own before she finally sets to work.. doing what she's meant to be doing, and scrubbing herself clean. she takes the bar of soap from its dish and begins to lather her hair, it's by and large the tallest hill to climb, snarled and tangled as it is. but she hadn't missed what he'd said about the cure - alisaie's eyes flit to his face, and they're reddened and tired but there's clear interest there. ]

What have you heard? About this cure?

[ After letting his fingers linger against her cheek for a moment, the memory of the warmth of her lips on his palm, he draws back, settling back onto the floor and leaning into the wall behind him. He'd help her with this task, too, if he thought he could actually be of any help - but this is another thing he should let her do on her own, to reclaim some of herself that this illness had taken from her.

So instead, he lets his weary bones sag, a tired but genuine smile playing out on his features as he meets her gaze. ]

A man named Qrow got some information out of the guy they were calling the "Shady Man". Real creative nickname, I know. [ He would've done better, but no one asked him! ] Anyway, he told him about some leaf that's one of the key ingredients for making a cure. Only problem is...it's only found in Wyver territory. They've...got people just as sick as we do. I guess there's another ingredient we need that can only be found here, too.

[ A beat. Maybe he shouldn't share this next tidbit, but it's important, and she'll find out sooner or later. Better it be from him now than later on the network. Hopefully. ]

There's...something else you should know. The bomb...apparently it was made at the Institute.

[ It's...such a damn mess, and he hardly cares for the politics of it. All he he wants - all they need - is a cure. Could these two sides really not look past their differences to cure their own citizens? But then again, it's not all that surprising, is it? Nations do far worse than make people sick in order to conquer their enemies.

Except this time, they're in the Empire.

A cold shudder rushes down his spine. ]

[ prompto begins to explain, and all the while alisaie washes her hair, combing her fingers carefully through the tangles as best she can before scrubbing her face, washing away the dust and dirt and tears. already she's beginning to feel a little better, a little more alive.

.. it soon becomes clear, however, just exactly what this radical group was trying to prove with its attack. to outline all the pettiness in sharp relief, to prove that these two nations are little more than squabbling children and - gods, she can understand their frustration, but to attack innocent civilians to prove a point? alisaie knows full well that when two countries bicker it is the smallfolk who truly suffer, who are drafted to fight and die in wars they did not agree to, to see their homes ravaged by raiders. it's disgusting, and the feeling is wholly, chillingly familiar - it was much the same when she'd come to eorzea for the first time. she'd been so angry, so frustrated with its people, its nations' leaders who couldn't get along with one another to save their own lives.

a change comes over her, subtle but clear; there's a quiet fury settling into her bones, and alisaie's hands curl into white-knuckled fists in the water, her jaw tightening visibly. ]

Shameful.

[ she finally says at last, and there's a distinctively acidic tone in her voice, a cold disdain that prompto likely does not hear from her often. ]

All of them. Olympia, Wyver, this nameless group between - they should be ashamed of themselves. How can they expect the people to be sympathetic toward them when they attack civilians to prove their point? Gods, there were children there.

[ that it was manufactured by the institute is.. certainly a painful blow, but neither is it terribly surprising. that seems the least of her worries, however. with renewed vigor, alisaie lathers the washrag with soap and begins to scrub at her dirty feet rather forcefully. ]

[ His expression tenses, knee bouncing as he worries at his bottom lip. It's - inexcusable. No matter who was right or who was wrong in this, that didn't make what they did okay. That didn't make all this senseless, needless suffering justifiable. Was this only the beginning, a sign of more radical attempts in the future? How long would it be until someone died?

Why is this always how it goes?

It kindles a fire in him, too, one that has scarcely been fanned since Eos had become no more. He's spent more than enough blaming himself for this, for not catching them before the bomb went off, but he's slowly coming to realize that if he'd really been a threat to their plan, they would've taken him out. More than likely, there was nothing they could have done to stop this.

So all they could do now was try to fix it. ]

We'll make this right. They have to see...that the only way anyone on either side can get better is by us all working together. They have to see that, right?

[ And yet, why does that seem like such an impossible thing? ]

You've more faith in them than I do. People are selfish creatures.

[ her tone is caustic, sharp as a knife's edge, but after a moment she sighs softly, her hands stilling. she's being a bit harsh, she knows, but gods this has always been a sensitive spot for her; politics and adults acting like petty children can easily bring out the ugly side of her, for sure. her voice is a little softer when she continues. ]

.. we cannot let it happen again, at the very least. These people must be brought to justice for what they've done before we can hope to find a way to reconcile any differences.

[ her feet are sore but clean at last, so alisaie reaches to turn the drain hatch, watching the murky water begin to swirl away. ]

For the good of their own people, I certainly hope they can be made to see reason.

[ Maybe he's naive. Qrow had made him question as much, too, because how could they really trust the word of the Shady Man? But...if they can't trust that, what else do they have to cling to? They're so powerless in all of this, it feels like. And he'd rather choose hope. ]

They won't get away with this. On the bright side...it seems like almost everyone who's not sick has been trying to help out in one way or another.

[ So even if he can't quite put his trust in the government they're now subject to, he can put his trust in his fellow refugees. None of them asked to be a part of this war.

War...they just can't get away from it, can they?

When she pulls up the drain, he stands to grab a towel off the rack for her, ready to warm her up as soon as she leaves the comfort of the bath. ]

I'm...I'm sure they will. I mean...this hasn't been a bad place to live.

[ He doesn't sound as certain about that as he wants to, though. ]

[ the warm water is certainly a balm to her aching bones, and her nagging fever means when she stands again she's already shivering from the cold and unsteady on her feet, but she's learned to live with that much, at least. funny what a body will grow accustomed to, with time.

slowly and carefully she steps out of the bath, teeth chattering, and right into the offered towel. ]

That's true. But 'tis not necessarily the Olympians that I thank for that.

[ now she's not about to look a gift chocobo in the mouth - for all this stupid, petty nonsense between olympia and wyver they have certainly been generous hosts. refugees in eorzea had it far worse, begging for scraps in the streets more often than not, mistreated by their betters and even by those meant to protect them. if they could find themselves employment at all they were very fortunate. so alisaie doesn't want to cast too many aspersions on those who offered them free room and board - but still, it is her fellow refugees that have truly made this bearable. it's prompto's company that has kept her strong and smiling. ]

[ He wraps her snugly in the towel before his arm finds its place around her shoulder again, holding her close. She may have learned to live with that constant chill, but that won't stop him from offering what comfort he can. ]

...Nah. A lot of that's on our fellow refugees-in-arms, huh?

[ They all came from such different worlds, and yet that single unifying theme tied them together. The relationships that he's made here...

Well. Suffice it to say that without them and bereft of his friends, Prompto would be in a very, very different place right now. But he's not in that place - it's a darkness he's able to avoid because for once, he's letting other people hold him up instead of the other way around. ]

I guess we've done pretty okay for ourselves.

[ To say the least, and he squeezes her shoulder. ]

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