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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

Ah...kinda. [ REASSURING. But he's opening the kit anyway. It's pretty rudimentary by the standards of what you'd find on Eos, and all non-magical, but seeing as they don't have any potions or anything, this would have to do.

He picks out the bottle of antiseptic and a handful of cotton balls first before he waves a hand for her to rest her feet in his lap. ]

Even with magic, you can't get by out in the middle of nowhere without picking up a thing or two about first aid. [ Sort of how he'd (unwillingly) picked up his survival skills that had so come in handy back during the Descent. Funny how these things keep coming up.

He dabs a bit of the antiseptic onto the cotton, preemptively wincing in sympathy. ]

I probably don't need to tell you "this is gonna sting", do I.

[ she might be tired, but alisaie is nonetheless entirely capable of doing this herself.

.. but right now, in this moment, she does not want to. or rather, she finds comfort in prompto's touch, even for something so silly and mundane as tending minor cuts and scrapes. there's something very intimate about allowing someone to see to your hurts, that quiet, simple trust in knowing that he will do his best and take care. it's something she's been allowing herself more and more often - at least with prompto.

so at his gesture she rests her feet in his lap, tipping her weight onto her hands and watching him with a pensive, bemused smile. ]

Do your worst. I'll be all right.

[ you've seen her tough-guy scars prompto she will take it on the chin

]

And.. thank you. For coming to find me. For.. for everything.

- Heh. Got it. I'll shoot for slightly-better-than-worst.

[ Once again, reassuring! But for his own exhaustion, uncertain in his own ability to do this properly or to cause her pain in any way, there's nothing uncertain in his hands as he gingerly rests one on her ankle, thumb running gently over the top of her foot, the other gently swabbing at her cuts and bruises. They're the hands of a photographer, a sharpshooter, honed to stay steady even when outside forces would have him tremble.

It's a somber task, that it even has to happen in the first place, but...it's soothing, too, to be the one to help ease her hurts, to bring her some relief in the long run. That same satisfaction is what has kept him going these last two weeks. That for all he couldn't change this situation, and what happened to her, he could still help her, even if it's only in small ways. ]

Don't mention it. [ But he's smiling now, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. ] I'm...I'm happy to help. Every time.

[ That's putting it lightly, even as he stresses those last two words. He won't let her think she's being a burden on him, or that she asks too much. It's never too much. Not for her.

He switches to her other foot now, swapping out for a fresh cotton ball. ]

[ the antiseptic stings of course, enough to make her skin jump beneath his careful touch, but it is hardly anything worth complaining over. for several long moments she does little more than watch through hooded eyes, taking in the steadiness of his hands, how much care he puts into it, the confidence in his touch - feigned or not. the silence is a comfortable one, and with exhaustion weighing heavily on the both of them it's all very.. comfortable. her aches and frustrations both are soothed by his very presence, by the attentive, deliberate way he works. ]

I know.

[ she says at last in her rusty voice, the hint of a crease appearing between her brows. ]

I only want you to know that it is.. appreciated. I lean on you far more than you deserve.

[ and alisaie is not wont to lean on anyone if she can help it, but these last weeks have made it all but impossible. without his help, and the help of others, she'd be in far worse shape than she is now, which is really saying something, all things considered. that prompto is happy to help - of course he is, he did not need to say it for her to know it, it seems a core facet of his very character. but the last thing she wants to convey is that she takes him for granted. ]

You are an incredible person, you realize. I only want you to know that I am grateful.

[ A huffed, disbelieving laugh escapes him as he continues to dab at her scrapes, at the idea that she could ever lean on him too much. It was so much the opposite, but he knows she won't want to hear that - and he doesn't want to say it, either. That's what a relationship is, isn't it? It's a give and take. It's a balancing act of two sides, two parts of a whole. They'd both have their moments, where they'd need to ask for more than they could give, and the other would be happy to give it. They've already done it countless times already.

As he finishes cleaning her wounds, he smooths his hand along her calf, from the ankle to her knee and back again. ]

I'm - [ hah ] - working on believing that. [ That he's an incredible person, but he'd never belittle her gratitude, and the fact that he can even say he's working on esteeming himself with more than self-doubt and insecurity is a feat in and of itself. But he's trying. In the face of everything he can't do right now, he's trying.

He starts with the bandages then, to carefully wrap her pains away. ]

So...you're welcome.

[ she's known him long enough and well enough now to find that answer acceptable. would that she could help to lift him up more, to show him what it is that she sees when she looks at him, his warmth, his kindness, his loyalty and strength - there are too few like him in the world, and it stings her that he does not know it. of course, there's something to be said about being humble, but his uncertainty is not born of humbleness, but of insecurity.

but there is only so much that she can do. of course she could talk herself blue in the face, list off the innumerable things he's done and said, ramble off time after time that he has helped her, helped others, but in the end it would do little enough good. like he's said, he is working on it, and only he can do that; her support will only get him so far. still, she will give it anyway, as much and as often as she can.

so alisaie's only reply is a warm, satisfied smile. that answer is good enough for her. she'll allow him to finish his work in comfortable, contented silence. ]

[ He matches her smile with one of his own, worn and weary but so genuine that it lingers through the rest of his treatment, and he secures the bandages firmly yet gently around her feet. ]

How does that feel? How'd you score me on a scale from zero to ten?

[ Not that he's going to pursue a career as foot doctor or anything, but if the bandages aren't comfortable, he can still adjust them. ]

Hmm..

[ sitting back on her hands, alisaie lifts one foot and wiggles her toes, narrowing her eyes as she surveys his work with abject scrutiny. ]

I'll give you a five for aesthetics, your knotwork is sloppy, but you more than made up for it in effort and spectacular bedside manner. Overall, I would say a solid 8.75.

[ they feel just fine, prompto. ]

Ha! [ Look at that! An earnest laugh as he reaches out to dust his fingers over her knee playfully. ] I'll take it. Put it on the books! 8.75...

[ Whatever "books" he's talking about. But as his chuckle shakes out, he can't help but reflect on how...almost normal this feels. If he could forget how ill she is, how her skin still radiates heat like its trying to imitate the sun, how he'd had to bandage her feet because her fever had driven her out into the streets in pursuit of a phantom, it almost feels normal.

They'll have that again. That normalcy, when they can just be together without having to worry about illness or bombs or political squabbles that they had somehow ended up in the crossfire of. When they could hold each other close and kiss, and whisper how they loved each other without aching in their hearts. Gods, someday soon, he hopes, but until then...

Until then.

After a long moment of silence, his hand still resting on her knee, he looks up into her face again. ]

Alisaie, can I...give you something? I-I mean it's - like, super sappy, so if it's not your thing I totally, one-hundred-percent get it, but I...

[ Well. Even if it makes her laugh, that's still something, right? But this is uncharted territory. He's been bringing her food and books and watching out for her needs, but he's never really...given her a gift like this before. ]

[ they've found them here and there - moments like this that recall better times. moments when her fever has abated enough that she's not sweating through her nightshirt or shivering down to her bones, when her mind is clear, when he's not so exhausted he's come home and right to bed with hardly a breath between. moments like this, which aren't entirely normal, but still feel.. okay. like all of this will be fine, if they just make it through one day at a time.

now that he's finished, alisaie expects him to stand and tumble into bed - they're both drained to their very marrow, and surely he must be looking forward to collapsing into a pillow. but he doesn't, he waits, and he looks up at her with those eyes and immediately alisaie feels a flush rising to her face. she hopes that maybe the fever will hide it, but that's doubtful. he's brought her plenty of things before of course, but the way he's voicing it, how he stammers like that - well, it makes her heart flutter. dammit, prompto.

gathering up her spilled dignity, alisaie clears her throat and leans forward, interrupting his stammering with the careful press of her fingertip to his lips. ]

What is it?

[ She presses her finger to his lips, and it's a good thing, or he might've gone on in that fashion for awhile yet. You'd think by now, with everything that's happened between them, he wouldn't be nervous about something so simple, and yet here he is, charting unfamiliar waters once again. If nothing else, at least she can tease him for how hopelessly sentimental he is, and that wouldn't be so bad. It'd still get her to smile, one way or the other.

So after a moment, a smile that's somehow fond and nervous and exhausted all at once settling onto his face, he reaches into his pocket with one hand and takes her hers in his with the other. ]

We've had some...pretty incredible times together, haven't we? I mean - that barely even covers it. Since I met you, you always make me so happy, and when we started dating, you made me happy in a way I...never thought I would be.

[ Bear with him. He's leading up to something. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and presses something small and cool to the touch into the palm of her hand. He doesn't pull his hand away just yet, so she can't see what it is. ]

I can't even imagine how hard these last couple of weeks have been for you. [ And since he's being so painfully candid, he lets his voice waver, because gods, it's been hard, so hard, to watch her suffer. ] First it's attacking your body, and now, it's getting into your head, and...it sucks. It really, really, sucks.

[ His hands, still both holding hers, squeeze gently, and he can't keep a tear from rolling down his cheek. ]

So...I wanted to give you something that c-could help you...remember the good ol' days, when it's not so easy to do on your own. In case you need to...you know. Jog the memory.

[ And finally, he pulls his hand back so she'll be able to see what he's set in her palm. It's a locket, simple, brushed silver in the shape of a heart, because of course he couldn't resist something so sweetly cliche as that. Should she open it, she'll find a picture of the two of them, smiling and unfettered and happy in such a pure, unfiltered way. Maybe sometime soon, they'll be able to smile again like that, but until then...

She'll have this to look upon. ]

I know it's not...all that, but I thought...it might help a little.

[ alisaie isn't entirely sure what to expect. as prompto has already thought, so much of this is unfamiliar to both of them, and while most of what they do is a simple, natural extension of the friendship they had already built, there are some things that are always new.

a good sort of new. the exciting kind that fills you with anticipation, that makes every moment a tender surprise, and little things like this - small but terribly kind gestures - so memorable and moving. his words are sweet enough on their own without the help of the as-yet mystery gift, enough to make her chest tighten like her entire body is being squeezed, a painful, lovely, irresistible ache setting into her heart. that he would do so much for her, work himself so hard and yet still find time to do this, to say these words and find her this favor when it was not expected of him.. gods, he's truly something special, and for all she has felt unfortunate in life after the loss of a world, she has been fortunate in this. in prompto, her steadying hand, her light in the dark, the warm spot in her life that she can curl into when all else seems painful and dangerous.

when at last he reveals it, alisaie lifts her upturned hand to find the little silver locket, and it's easy to quietly marvel at how well he knows her in its choice, whether he'd known it consciously at the time or not. alisaie is not the sort to require grand gestures or flashy gifts, but this.. this is simple and elegant and - when her thumbnail finds the seam to open it up - perfect. a reminder of her own heart, of what is important, something to carry with her. ]

Oh..

[ it's a soft sound, a breath, and alisaie finds her throat tightening at the powerful wash of fondness that overcomes her and more than that, the sense of.. peace. like this little silver trinket is the center of the universe, a gravitational point that steadies and anchors her and puts all else in perspective.

she doesn't know what to say. words often fail her in matters of the heart. so instead she closes her fingers around the locket instead, holding to it tightly, while she slips off of the bed and into his lap, right there on the floor, her arms closing tightly around his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck. as always, she fits against him perfectly, easily, her form settling against his own like half of a whole. ]

.. thank you.

[ is what she says at last, her voice tight with emotion and necessity and fatigue, because what else is there to say? she's grateful, so grateful for him, for his thoughtfulness and tender heart, for all he is to her. ]

[ He's watchful as he gauges her reaction, ready for her to let him down easy if it's not really her sort of thing, and it'd be fine if it's not. Not everyone's into gifts, and while Prompto was always so eager to shower her in affection in whatever form possible, he doesn't want to smother her or make her uncomfortable, no matter how much he might adore her.

He's waiting for the finale verdict, but it doesn't come with words - as it often does with her, it comes in action. It comes in her form drawing close to him and curling against him, in her arms around his shoulders as his come up around her back. It's clear, then, what her verdict is before she even utters a word, and for all his apprehension in giving her the locket, he shouldn't be surprised that she likes it. He'll get over that someday, that he can do things right in this relationship without messing up the first attempt, and her warmth floods his every corner in rolling, enveloping ways.

Shutting his weary eyes, he nestles against the crook of her neck and just holds her. What he wouldn't give to kiss her, but for now, to hold her, just to hold her and to know that she loves him is enough. ]

[ he folds her up in his arms and she in hers and for the moment there is no need to say anything at all. they need only exist, and appreciate these quiet, peaceful seconds in the storm that their lives have become. she leans into him with all of her weight, shuts her eyes and simply breathes in the scent of his skin, not bothering any longer to search for the words that could properly purvey how she feels and instead allowing this closeness to do it for her.

but soon enough she's pulling back, and gods she aches to kiss him, must try so hard to resist the urge to, instead pressing a kiss to the crest of one freckled cheek that drags along to his ear. ]

I will treasure it.

[ and then she's opening her hand to look upon it again with a weary smile, before lifting it on its chain to clasp it around her neck, where it nestles perfectly against her heart. ]

[ It's hard to let her go, but the warmth of her kiss and the sight of her fitting the locket around her neck has his heart soaring in a single moment. It's still sappy, and he knows it, but it also feels right. All of this does, and it's only that rightness that has allowed him to come so far, to get so close to her, to give her his heart in a metaphorical and a literal way. And now, if she has trouble remembering...she'll have something to look upon to help her look backwards and forwards.

He leans close to nuzzle his nose against her cheek, before drawing back again to meet her eyes with a slanted grin. ]

Now then, I don't know about you, buuuuut I'm due for some beauty sleep before our big day tomorrow.

[ And by "beauty sleep" he means sleeping like the actual dead, but that doesn't sound as nice. He still has his arms around her, so it's easy to adjust them and lift her back onto the bed. ]

[ even just mentioning the word sleep is enough to tire her out, and alisaie hardly has a moment to agree before he's lifting her back up onto the bed.

a girl could get used to this. alisaie never thought herself the type to.. enjoy something like that, but then, she never thought herself a lot of things before meeting prompto. but gods, is she ever ready for sleep, sleep like the actual dead, yes, because there's surely not going to be anything beautiful about how they pass out. ]

Ah, I'd wondered how it was you managed to maintain those.. what was it?

[ climbing back toward the head of the bed, alisaie tugs the blankets over her legs while patting the edge of the mattress to invite peo up. ]

- dashing good looks?

[ He sits on the corner of the bed for a moment to tug off his boots, before giving himself a quick sniff test. He hadn't spent so much of the day chasing down criminals, so he can probably wait until morning to shower. Even if he didn't pass the test, he'd probably forego one lest he pass out in the shower and crack his head open. No one wants that!

As he stands to go retrieve his pajamas from wherever he left them (spoilers: it's the floor), he cocks his grin back at her, an undeniable twinkle in his eye. ]

Devilish. How could you forget?

[ He starts to tug off his clothes, pulling his shirt up over his head. Guess she's the one who gets to ogle now??? ]

I think I like dashing better, though. Makes me sound...debonair.

[ He proves how debonair he is with the appalling way he pronounces the word. ]

[ alisaie hunkers comfortably down in the bed, and for all the time she's spent resting these past days it still feels so good to lie down; that foolish little trek exhausted what little energy reserves she had, and these sheets and blankets feel absolutely heavenly.

but you can bet that once she's comfortably on her side with peo nestled up against her chest she's absolutely ogling. and unlike prompto, she makes no attempt to hide it. look, she can't kiss him, they can't enjoy all this down time in bed as a proper teenage (and almost teenage) couple should, so she will take what she can get shamelessly. striptease, prompto!! she'll throw gil into your pants. ]

Does it?

[ alisaie's face crinkles up in that way it does when she's overthinking something, and she narrows her eyes. ]

I am not thoroughly convinced.

[ Look, the idea is to not make him pass out and hit his head? But the flush that rises into his cheeks as he catches her watching him change isn't out of embarrassment, but some sort of flattery. He may not have a sixty-four pack like Gladio, but he likes to think he hasn't done too poorly for himself either, so he may as well let her enjoy it! ]

No? Don't make me bust out the old-timey speak on you. I've been practicing. Milady.

[ Surely that will prove just how debonair he is! ...As he hops on one leg to finish pulling on his sweats. ]

[ look if he passes out and hits his head she's not taking responsibility for it okay, get used to it!! because she's gonna enjoy those freckled abs. for all he looks like a noodle with his clothes on he certainly takes care of himself, wink wonk. ]

Milady? Now if you're really going to try, there's no need to sound so common.

[ she can't help but tease because look, she had a snooty noble upbringing, you'll have to try harder than that. ]

My lady is the proper way. Or in my case, Mistress Leveilleur would be ideal.

[ He always knew his regimen would pay off someday...

Tugging on his sleep tank (sorry, Alisaie), he ambles back towards the bed and sinks onto it next to her with such a sigh that one might think his head and shoulders weigh several tons more than they actually do. ]

Ahem. Mistress Leveilleur it is, then. [ He rolls onto his side, one hand propping up his head, the other reaching out to scratch Peo behind the ears. ] And other titles that go along with that? No "of Sharlayan" or "the Sixteenth" I should be tacking onto that?

[ He wants to get it right! ]

[ 8( no why this... she is sick and suffering, don't put a shirt on, how dare you deny her her comforts?? at least she can still enjoy his arms I GUESS. ]

No, no need for any of that. We wouldn't want to sound stuck up, after all.

[ she can't keep from smiling through it, though. it's a nice feeling when prompto settles down with ease beside her, like it's something comfortable and natural, something he's grown used to. something she has, as well.. ]

- wait, what do you mean old-timey?

[ That's right, she still has a front row ticket to the gun show!!

He tucks his legs under the sheets, snuggling close, and she's not the only reflecting on how easy all this has become. It's so nice that he's moved on from that stage in their relationship where he catches himself wondering whether or not she wants him close. It's a confidence he's never really had with anyone before, and while it's still sometimes mindblowing that he's come this far at all, that's only a good thing.

He rests his head against her shoulder, looking up at her with a curled grin. ]

Look, I'm just saying...you wouldn't hear anyone walking around Insomnia going all "mayhap" and "anyroad" in this day and age. It's not a bad thing! I think it's cute.

[ As he. Tries very hard not to laugh. ]

[ oh my god he is the w o r s t ]

Cute?

[ alisaie scoffs, all (mostly) mock disdain, looking down her nose at him with an imperious, superior air. ]

Don't patronize me, peasant. I suppose you think "dude" and "cool" are so much better?

[ yeah well she's his girlfriend so what does that make her ]

You forgot "sweet', "radical", "bro"...need I go on?

[ Please. He will patronize her all he wants! ]

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