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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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[ 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.

[ He almost insists on washing the sheets now anyway, because they're going to need them, but that look in her eye is enough for the suggestion to die on his tongue. But he can't quite concede to her request for him to rest. Not yet.

And not...anytime soon, if he's being truthful with himself. ]

I will! After you're fed and sleeping like a baby.

[ But he doesn't quite meet her eyes as he says that, instead perching on the edge of the bed to lace up his boots. ]

[ her steady eyes follow him, and she doesn't quite trust what he's saying, considering the way he won't look at her face, but she'll cross that bridge when they come to it. it's been a long handful of days for the both of them and he needs rest just as badly as she does if he hopes to stay on his feet.

but for now.. sheets. she has to psych herself up to stand again, using the nightstand for support until she's on her feet, and moving to dig the fresh linens from her bag. ]

I suppose I can agree to that.

[ so get a move on!! the faster they finish this the sooner they can snuggle, and they are both in dire need of some snuggling. ]

[ He's so close to asking her to sit down again and let him change the sheets before he goes, but the stern way she'd said his name a moment ago is still ringing in his thoughts. With the way things are going now...it seems like she's going to need his help more and more until the cure is ready. So...while she's still able, he'll let her do this.

So with an inward sigh, he glances back to the door, checks to make sure he has enough silver in his pocket, and starts to leave. ]

I'll be back in a jiff. Don't hesitate to call if...you know.

[ For any reason now. ]

[ straightening up with an armful of wrinkled sheets, alisaie sniffs, using a knuckle to wipe a droplet of blood away from her nose. ]

Of course. Please.. be careful.

[ this city is new and different to both of them, and for all intents and purposes they are 'the enemy,' civilians or not. she has no idea how the populace of wyver feels about this invasion, nor does she know anything at all about the personal climate of the city, or what to expect of, well, any of it. prompto can take care of himself, but still she feels the need to say it. ]

...I will.

[ Sober words and hardly ones that he wants to depart with instead of something bright and cheery, but he can't quite muster up the gusto he'd need for that. So with one final look back at her, wiping blood from her nose, he turns and goes, his features squeezing tight once he's no longer facing her.

It won't take him long, to find some soup for them, even in this climate, but any time away from her feels like too long these days. After all, it could only take a handful of seconds for something to go terribly wrong, and his stomach is in tight knots the entire time he is away. Is she still okay? What would he come home to this time?

They're questions impossible not to ask himself. She has her plague - and this is his. ]

[ there's more than a little regret in her heart as she watches him go, and a healthy helping of guilt, but then, these days she is always feeling guilty. this illness has taken its toll on everyone around her, and to see prompto so tired, so worn down from it all is a slow poison far more potent than the one currently coursing through her veins. will they even be the same, after this? assuming she makes it through at all. could he still love her after all she has put him through?

with a soft sigh, alisaie glances down toward peo, who wags his tail slowly, hopefully, before she's getting to work.

all told it takes fifteen minutes or so, far longer than it should take any able-bodied young girl to do something so simple as change bedsheets, but this is the life that she is slowly growing accustomed to. she lays a towel over the pillow to preserve the fresh linens as long as possible, sets another on the nightstand and sinks immediately into bed, gently patting the space beside her to invite peo up and into her arms. with one hand she holds him near to her chest, the other winding tight around the silver locket at her neck and holding fast. ]

[ Not a handful of minutes after Alisaie has finished changing the sheets does Prompto return, with a sack of soup from a nearby vendor as well as a couple of jerky strips for Peo to go to town on. The bedroom is his first destination when he returns, before he even sets down the bag. He can't help the feeling of dread that blossoms in his chest as he steps through the doorway, but it evaporates almost instantly at the sight of Alisaie and Peo tucked into bed together. So he had nothing to be afraid of after all.

This time.

Still, they're here and he's here and the promise of finally getting off his feet for awhile is so tantalizing that he's quick to drop the bag on the bed, slide his boots off, and lean into press a kiss to her brow. ]

Hey.

[ The tension is still rolling off of him, but he already looks far more relaxed than he did before he'd left. ]

[ even though prompto is returning only a few scant minutes after she's crawled under the sheets, alisaie is dozing by the time he sits at the edge of the bed. her fatigue these last few days has been relentless, she could sleep for hours and hours and still not feel rested, though in many ways she finds it a bit of a boon. she cannot wander off after illusions or attack innocents when she hardly has the energy to be out of bed at all, and it's for this reason alone that she's yet to insist he strap her down. should she even escape at all she hardly has the strength to bruise a fly, let alone seriously injure anyone. small blessings.

the gentle pressure of his kiss has her eyes flickering open again, and prompto may recognize the distant bleariness, how her eyes take on that misty, unfocused quality that means her thoughts are tangling, her memory stuttering. for a few moments she stares sleepily at the bag, a crease slowly forming between her brows. ]

What's that?

[ at least it's not him she's forgotten, this time. ]

[ It's a sad thing to acknowledge, how he's come to recognize that look in her eyes by now. But at least she seems to recognize him, she's not coughing blood into her hands (for the moment), even if she doesn't remember what he'd left to do. ]

Dinner! Went for the potato soup option. Seafood soup seemed kiiiiind of adventurous, given... [ You know. What part of town this is. Another reason to stay awake tonight. :')

He hands her one of the cups of soup and a spoon, before sliding off the bed again to grab some water from the kitchen. As he's returning: ]

Aaaand no dessert until you finish your soup. [ He sets the glass down on the nightstand before settling onto the bed again, cross-legged and wearing a smile for her. ]

[ alisaie's eyes follow his movements slowly, dazed and languid, and it takes her a good ten seconds or so of looking at the soup and spoon he's offering before she finally figures out what he wants from her. her head feels stuffed full of cotton.

she sits up, leaning back against the headboard and taking them in her hands, and all the while prompto is gone fetching water alisaie stares at it. despite the fact that it's likely been an entire day since she's eaten, this soup looks wholly unappetizing, the smell of it alone enough to turn her stomach. when he returns, she hasn't eaten any yet, she's just stirring the spoon around in the soup and looking down on it with marked disdain. ]

Dessert?

[ her eyes flick up toward his face. ]

.. no, thank you. Maybe later.

[ what has this world come to when alisaie is refusing dessert ]

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