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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

[ it feels perfect, is how it feels. like prompto, alisaie takes a few moments to simply appreciate it, to feel the hot water beating down against her battered body like a soothing massage. when you're aching deep in your bones there really is nothing quite like a hot shower or bath.

turning away with her back toward him, alisaie tips up her chin to let the water run over her face, softening all of that lovely crusted blood. ]

This unbridled disdain for horses seems uncalled for, if you ask me. They are perfectly lovely animals.

[ why this, why now, in the year of our lord 2k17 prompto does this ]

[ Once she turns her back to him and he's sure she isn't about to collapse, he lifts his hands to run through his hair. There's no doubt this is refreshing, but he also knows as soon as he steps out of the shower he'll want to fall straight to sleep, and - he can't do that. Not with the condition she's in now.

So maybe they can just...stay in here for awhile, soaking up the steam, trying, for a moment, to find something normal to cling to. ]

Guess I got saddled with that opinion when one of 'em bucked me to the ground. I'm gonna have a sore tailbone for weeks!

[ he does this because THEY NEED IT ]

[ after a few moments of water streaming down her face, alisaie rubs both hands over it to wash the blood away. it's hardly of much use, considering the slow but constant flow, but it still feels good to get it off of her skin, at least for now, and to clear it away from her eyes. ]

Truly?

[ there's an attempt made at a laugh, and it's kind of pathetic and makes her dizzy, but it's nice to smile nonetheless. ]

I suppose the beast made an ass of you. Would that I had been there to see it.

[ shampoo pls ]

[ Maybe it's her joke, maybe it's the sound of her own laugh, however slight, that has a true, honest one gusting out from deep in his chest. It feels so good to laugh so earnestly and yet it's bittersweet how few and far between their laughs have been the past few weeks. It's enough for tears to press at the corner of his eyes, for his laugh to peter into a hiccuping sob he tries to pass off as a cough. ]

...Don't worry, I-I - I took some pics anyway. I can catch you up on all the mane events of the trip...

[ But much of the levity is gone from his voice.

He squeezes a bit of the shampoo into his palm and passes it off to her. ]

[ he tries to hide it but alisaie knows him too well, knows his mind and his heart, knows how tired he is, how difficult all of this has been, the toll it has taken. it makes her heart ache with a pressure that tightens her throat.

she needs to turn toward him again in order to wet her hair, but it gives her the opportunity to look up into his face again, to touch him. he passes her the shampoo but after a moment's consideration she sets it aside again and reaches instead to take his hand, the one with the shampoo in it, so she can scrape it into her own palm instead.

and then she's rubbing it between her hands and lifting them to his hair to gently, steadily work it through. there's something very.. comforting about this, about the casual intimacy of bathing with someone you trust absolutely, someone you can be so completely vulnerable with.

but she doesn't offer an answer. the will to joke has bled out of her again. ]

[ Thanks in no small part to his fatigue, to how swollen his thoughts are with fear, it takes him a moment to realize what she's doing, taking the shampoo out of his hand, until she's lifting her hands to his hair, his chest tightening and his eyebrows lifting as he understands. ]

Alisaie...

[ It's not a protest, not quite, but there's so much else mingled in the way he says her name for how it's little more than a whisper. It's a gesture so tender, so intimate, that he tips his head down, eyes falling shut against the tears he'd tried so hard to keep at bay.

It's no use. The tears slip out anyway, unbidden, rolling down his cheeks and mingling with the shower water as his shoulders shake. If he could say something, he would - but he's too full for words. Full of pain, full of exhaustion, full of fear, yes. But also full of love, blinding and unyielding, a thing far too great and beautiful for him to fully comprehend. It's such a simple thing, her fingers working the shampoo into his hair, and yet, it isn't simple.

Not at all. ]

[ it breaks her heart to see his expression crumple like that and yet it's satisfying as well. he's trying to hard to stay strong, she knows, and while he may need to maintain that for others, for his comrades in the guard and those he's helping on the streets, he need not do it for her. his company alone keeps her strong and supported, and while she loves his smiles, what she loves more is his simple.. presence, the knowledge that he's here, that she can hear his voice and feel his warmth and smell his skin. that's all she needs. mayhaps in time he'll learn that completely, but until he does she's more than happy to show him, to help him unwind whenever and however she can.

for now she maintains the silence. there's only this space between them, the heat and steam and the sound of beating water. her fingers work gently thorough his hair, rubbing deep into it, over and along his scalp in circular, soothing movements.

and while she works she carefully pulls his face down to her level, and she presses kisses to his cheeks, over his tears and the rolling water, first his right cheek then his left, crossing the bridge of his freckled nose and up to his brow. all she needs to say is there in her kisses, each one warm and soft and lingering, and in the slow gentle workings of her fingers through his hair. ]

[ It aches, but it feels so good, too - to let his emotions spill out while she massages her fingers across his scalp, and kisses his face so tenderly that a fresh hiccup of sobs wracks his shoulders. He doesn't deserve this, no matter how battered and weary he might be, but it's still so intimate and welcome that he never thinks to stop her.

Because this isn't just for him. When they're close like this, communicating perfectly without ever uttering a word, it's easy to forget that that separation exists - that they aren't just one whole, two parts that fit together so well that it's a wonder how he ever lived without her in his life. He lifts his hands to her face, thumbs gently gliding over her cheeks, willing this moment to never end, even for as much as it hurts so exquisitely.

But the water is so cleansing, just as these tears. ]

[ her heart bleeds for him, but it's so cathartic that she can't help but encourage it, to keep up with the slow, soft kisses and her fingers in his hair until it's all sudsed up from root to tip.

gods, what she would not give to kiss him properly, to draw his mouth to hers and kiss his breath away until neither of them can think about anything but how it feels. it's been so long she hardly remembers what his mouth feels like, his taste a distant, fading memory and in this moment with a clutch of fear she can't help but wonder if she will ever know it again. the cure is in the works but there's no saying how long it might take, and she was sick within hours of the bomb's drop, among the first wave of the infected. there's no guarantee that the cure will come quickly enough to save her. it's advancing so quickly, it's becoming harder and harder to stay awake, she's bleeding, she's hurting, she's dying.

but for now.. for now she pushes back those thoughts and slips her arms over his shoulders, holding him near, burying her face against his neck and trailing kisses there. ]

It's all right, love.

[ she whispers, nuzzling warmly at the juncture of his jaw. ]

You're home, now.

[ He lets them stay like that for a long moment, his arms winding around her when hers move over his shoulders, her sweet kisses driving the tension that's threatened to suffocate him for days from his chest. The water rushes over him, washing out the suds in his hair, spilling bubbles over his shoulders and neck and leaving him feeling scrubbed clean in so many ways. It's...funny, how true her words are, despite the fact that he'd never been here before a handful of minutes ago. Home wasn't just a place - it was a state of being, an existence, and when he exists here with her, he absolutely is home. There's no place he'd rather be than at her side.

He turns his head to kiss her temple, long and lingering, so unlike the way he had so very long ago on a rooftop in Olympia. She'd held him as he'd cried, then, too. ]

I am.

[ A quiet confirmation, and perhaps it didn't need to be said, but he wanted to say it.

And then he's drawing back, just enough that he can grab the shampoo bottle again and squeeze out a fresh handful before gently guiding her to turn her back to him again. ]

[ sometimes she worries that she does not always reach him. that her voice cannot find him when he's buried too deep beneath his sorrows, unready to hear what she is telling him, what he needs to hear. and that's all right. people do not change in a day, and prompto has years of self-doubt to work through, and that is something that he can only do himself, in his own time.

but this time, at least, the atmosphere feels visibly lighter when he pulls her in and kisses her temple, and when he draws away she feels.. better. as if, even in some small way, she has made a difference.

she hadn't been expecting any sort of repayment when she's chosen to wash his hair, but she won't refuse him the opportunity to do so. give and take, it's what they do, and she can't deny that she wouldn't enjoy the feel of it, the chance to just relax for a few moments and not worry about anything beyond the warmth of the water, and the feel of his touch. so without argument she turns again to face away from him - gods, every small movement is so impossibly difficult - and gingerly gathers up her long hair, pushing it back over her shoulders. ]

[ His hands work slow and steady through her hair, starting at her scalp, impossibly gentle as he works his fingers through any tangles he finds along the way. He knows the blood won't be washed away for good, that it will return, and that even just standing there must be causing her a great deal of pain. But he doesn't stop, taking care to address each and every hair upon her head until it's difficult to see through the bubbles.

He may not be able to take away her pain, he may not even be able to repair her spirits. But he can do this for her, after she'd so tenderly done it for him, and so he will, until her hair is soaped from root to end. As he gathers it up in his hands, he leans down to press his lips to the soft skin just behind her ear, whispering how much, how much he loves her, before he guides her shoulders to turn her back around again. ]

[ there's something incredibly soothing about someone's fingers in your hair. aside from prompto, the only people she has ever allowed it from were her mother and brother, but it was a feeling she always loved, when she permitted herself to be soft enough to lay her head in her mother's lap, or allow alphinaud to braid her hair for her. more than any other gesture of affection it has a.. pacifying sort of effect on her, and she loosens beneath it like a pup receiving a belly rub. it's an exquisite feeling. for a few lovely, fleeting moments the pain in her bones is erased, or at least forgotten, and when he leans forward to press tender kisses and sweet words behind her sensitive ear she shivers and falls slack, her weight easing back against him, skin to skin, warm and perfect. she could stay like this forever.

but warm water is not an endless commodity, so when he gently prompts her to turn she obeys, no matter how much she'd rather not. eyes closed, her hands find his shoulders for touch and stability both while she tips her head back to allow the water to run through her hair. ]

That feels wonderful.

[ When she turns back around, she'll find him wearing a weary but fond smile, hands setting gently onto her waist once again as she tips her head back to wash out the shampoo. It feels so utterly profound, somehow, to share such a simple thing as a shower with her, to help her wash away the physical reminders of everything this illness has tried to take from them, their actions a symbol of everything it could not. ]

Yeah, it does.

[ How badly he aches to kiss her, to lose all sense of everything in her kiss, to push aside the world for a few moments to express his love to her in a way he hasn't for what feels like ages. But he won't. Not when they've come this far without him getting ill, not with how hard she's worked to keep him that way. They would have the cure soon enough. (They had to.) And when they did, he'd kiss her until they were both senseless and dizzy,

It won't be long now.

It can't be long now. ]

[ her hair is too long to trust to the running water, so she must eventually loose one hand to rake her fingers through it, taking care to make sure it's entirely free of suds before she's satisfied.

she should really take up the soap and scrub herself down. the journey had been long and arduous even on gryphonback and she could really use a proper soaping up but she's been on her feet so long already and it's difficult to admit, but her endurance is at an all time low, especially when her body is aching terribly from head to foot. she'll have to be satisfied with a rinse-down, and the shampoo's runoff.

without prompto's touch to ease and distract her, alisaie breathes through a fresh wave of throbbing pain, her grasp on him tightening. ]

I should lie down.

[ Even as he winces, reflective of her discomfort, he's quick to nod, and reaches past her to shut off the water. It had been so brief - the refuge and solace they'd been able to find together in the shower, and it could not last long, by the very nature of her condition. She must be aching fiercely, and eager to get her off her feet, Prompto holds onto one of her arms as he reaches beyond the shower curtain to pull a towel off the rack for her and drapes it around her shoulders. ]

When's the last time you ate something?

[ He doesn't ask if she's hungry. That's a very different question. ]

[ climbing back out of the tub is just as slow and difficult as climbing in had been, but she grits her teeth and endures it with the help of prompto's steadying hands. normally she might take her time drying off here in the bathroom, but if she does not sit soon she fears she might fold, and that would be an inconvenience for the both of them.

so slowly, steadily she moves toward the door, hugging the towel around her shoulders, though her brows furrow thoughtfully. ]

I.. don't remember.

[ before leaving olympia, she'd wager - there hadn't been time on the nonstop flight to wyver, and once here she'd collapsed right into sleep. ]

I haven't been hungry.

[ That's not exactly the answer he wants to hear, and as Prompto follows behind her, grabbing a towel of his own to dry himself off. He should have thought to pick something up before he got here, but he'd been so consumed with the singular idea of finding her that a little thing like food hadn't mattered much.

But now it does, especially if she doesn't even know the last time she ate. ]

Okay, but you still gotta eat. [ There just be something nearby, though they'll need something mild for her stomach, but also something that will fill her up and keep her nourished and allow her to sleep...man, he's starting to understand how Ignis must have felt all those times he was responsible for feeding the boys. ]

I know it's, like, a million degrees here, but...soup?

[ of course he's pressing the issue, and alisaie can feel the little flare of heated aggravation in the back of her mind but she chases it away - it's little more than another byproduct of her deteriorating mind that she's learning to control. ]

I.. suppose.

[ look how super excited she is for soup.. her elation is palpable. just the thought of food is enough to turn her stomach, let alone warm food on a day like this, but she's too tired to argue and, of course, he is right.

once she's ambled at last to the bedroom, alisaie sits heavily at the edge of the bed and shuts her aching eyes; already she can feel the thin trickle of blood beginning to creep down the sides of her face, though she's quick to swipe it away with the towel. it's fine, this is fine. ]

[ Yes, he'd like to see her not die of malnutrition, so he's pressing the issue!! But she doesn't flat out refuse, and that makes things a little easier. He's always been a bit of a pushover, but this is one thing he won't be pushed over on.

Pretend Prompto brought in a duffel bag with him...anyway, it's definitely there now, as is Peo, who has been there the whole time? Look, one of his friends probably dropped him off while they were being gross in the shower. Don't look at me. Peo sits on the floor and looks up at Alisaie with a woeful look - it seems like the pup knows it would be a bad thing to jump up on her for kisses right now. Wearily, Prompto reaches for the bag and pulls some changes of clothes out for the both of them, including a nightdress for her. While packing he...sort of figured that'd probably continue to be her dominant wardrobe choice for awhile longer.

Awhile longer...

They'll get there.

He catches the movement of the towel as he cross back over to her, his own tied around his waist now (sorry), and swallowing against a fresh wave of worry, he holds the nightdress above her head. ]

Arms up!

[ As up as she can manage, anyway. ]

[ oh hey peo she thought you weren't appearing in this episode but she's glad to see him nonetheless. like prompto, he is a little ray of sunshine and the mongrel has wormed his way into her heart with the ease only a cute dog can manage. he's being so careful, bless his wee pupper heart, and alisaie smiles wearily, leaning to brush her fingers over the top of his head and behind one of his ears.

she missed you too, little buddy. ]

I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself, you know.

[ she says with her trademark pluck, though the usual energy behind her complaint is notably absent. so you'll notice that, for all her complaining, she's dropping her towel away and lifting her arms.

goodbye naked prompto. 8'( she'll remember your cute freckled butt well. ]

I know.

[ There may or may not be the ghost of a tease in the way he says that, but it's moot as she lifts her arms and he gingerly tugs the nightdress over them and her head. Goodbye naked Alisaie...may your battle scars remain forever sexy.

He picks up her towel, then, heart skipping a beat at the slight bloodstain. Already? He stares at it a moment too long, worrying at his bottom lip, before remembering that he should be dressing so he can get her some food. One thing at a time. That's how they get through this. ]

Are you thirsty, at least? How's a cool, refreshing glass of water sound in this muggy mess?

[ This climate is not going to agree with his hair...ugh. ]

[ muggy mess indeed, but it still feels nice to be clean, the smell of crisp, fresh linen far more inviting than her previous sweat and dirt and blood eau de alisaie. ]

No.. not really.

[ which is odd enough, really. she's had nothing to drink in quite some time, and for as warm as it is, how sick she is, and hard the journey had been you would think her all but desperate for water. but.. she's not. what she wants more than anything is to lie back, to stop moving for awhile, to sleep.

with slow, careful movements she shakes out her hair and pulls it over one shoulder to keep the damp mass of it off of the sheets and - oh. sheets. these are a mess, dirty and crusted with dried blood. a soldier's work is never done. pulling the pillow into her lap, she tugs away the bloodstained case. ]

I'm just tired.

[ Another worrying sign - as if anything about her condition isn't worrying - but at least she won't be able to see the way his expression tenses up, his back to her as he tugs on his clothing. What was this sickness doing to her? Even when the hallucinations had started, she'd still had an appetite. She wasn't bleeding from her face.

It's like it's slowly picking apart her entire self. Her body, her mind - now even those most basic instincts seem to be fading.

How much longer -

No. ]

Try to get some rest while I pick up - [ He turns back around as he tugs his shirt over his head, notices her tugging off the pillowcase, and adds: ]

I-I can take the sheets and wash them, too.

[ They're going to need a few sets to rotate through at this rate. ]

Prompto -

[ there's a hard edge to her voice, and she sighs just after, dropping her hands into her lap and leveling him with a tired, but unflinching look. ]

There's a spare set in my bag, I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived.

[ that there were already sheets on the bed is a lucky happenstance, all things considered, though yeah they might need.. more.. in the coming days. for now the clean set she's brought will do, and a towel laid across the pillow. ]

Please, you need to get some rest.

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