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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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[ to say she hasn't been low-key terrified would certainly be a lie - an illness like this, the symptoms of which onset so quickly, caught from a damnable mystery bomb - it may seem like a flu, but she can't help but worry that it's something far more insidious. how could it not be? it was a threat, an act of terrorism, a purposeful attack, and surely no one would bother to go to such lengths simply to give them the flu. not that flus can't be dangerous, of course, but still - no, this smacks of something far worse, promising more.

she's tried not to think about it, swallowed that fear down because letting it creep in won't do her any good - but she feels that facade begin to crumble once prompto's hands are on her face, over her hair. ]

No, I - I wasn't, but..

[ gods, she wants to tell him that it's nothing, that it's a simple cold, she wants to tell herself that as well, but he'd never believe it if she did, and she couldn't lie to his face even if she wanted to. she swallows thickly, her glance straying to riza's closed door. ]

Riza was. She came home sick, and I've been - [ a trembling exhale, and she shakes her head quickly ] - Gods, Prompto, you shouldn't stay. I should not have allowed you through the door to begin with, I'm sorry.

[ He can't help it - his reaction is visceral, raw, a strained gasp that lodges against his dry throat. And for a moment, he's paralyzed by that simple confirmation. She's sick. She's caught this illness, whatever it really is, that was dispersed among them as a weapon.

His fingers knot in her hair. He wants to gather her up, carry her to her bed and tend to her stalwartly, because he can't let her get any sicker. She has to get better.

He squeezes his eyes shut. She wants him to go. And he can't blame her. Not really. It's only reasonable, that should he want to make himself actually useful he should honor her wishes and keep himself healthy, not stay here where multiple people were ill. He should...go home.

His empty, bereft home.

...No, he can't tell her now. Not with the way she's already suffering. He'll shoulder this, spare her the hurt he knows she'll share if he tells her because they're his. ]

Y-you're - you're right. I-I don't want to - [ He shakes his head, bone-tired. How could he bear to leave now, with her sick like this? But by the same token, how could he stay, when she's expressly said he shouldn't?

One side of his mouth tugs into such a pathetic smile. ]

What can I bring you?

[ That, at least, is something he can do for her, even if it's - gods - not staying with her. Which is all he wants to do at the moment. ]

[ oh, she hates it. she hates the pained sound that he makes, she hates the way his expression twists up like that - he's so awfully easy to read, his heart is clear on his face and alisaie never wants to be the reason he looks or sounds like that. it's like watching someone torment a puppy, she can hardly stand it.

what she wouldn't give to kiss him, to kiss his hands that are tight in his hair, to pull his face down and kiss his sweet mouth until that pain is chased away, to comfort him how she knows he would best respond to. she knows how much he craves touch, affection, and that she cannot adequately give it to him when he's exhausted and hurting is a fierce disappointment. and gods, he surely must be blaming himself for that bomb as well, were his interactions with victarion any indication..

it's only because she thoroughly washed her hands before answering the door that alisaie feels comfortable lifting them to cradle his face, drawing her thumbs gently over his cheeks. ]

Prompto..

[ she says his name almost like a quiet warning, and for a moment it seems as if she will deny him again. if he were to get sick because of her, because of her carelessness - riza is sick already, and leanne is gone, threatened, afraid, if he were to come down with this too - feast or famine, it seems; everything is falling apart at once.

maybe she's weak. she is weak. she shouldn't relent, but she does, because his pain resonates to her and she doesn't have it in her right now to deny him anything. ]

.. please, just.. be careful. If you want to do something for me, wash your hands.

[ that would bring her more comfort than any coddling might. ]

[ He's all but ready for her to send him away when she doesn't, and his heart steps back from the precipitous plunge it had been about to take into misery. It's fleeting, but his smile cracks across his weary features, disjointed but genuine, as he slowly draws his hands back from her hair, and holds them between them, palms facing outward. ]

You know what a stickler I am for hygiene. [ A little self-deprecation to warm the tension between them, because he hates it - hates that he has to feel anything but content and peaceful around her. But of course, how he's feeling matters little, and he remains wholly focused on what he can do for her.

So, although is terribly hard to step away from even the slight touch she's allowed him, he does so, moving in to the kitchen. She said wash his hands, so he's going to wash his hands, dammit!! ]

[ she's being far too soft. if he comes down with this illness as well she will never forgive herself.

.. but seeing even that fleeting, weak smile soothes her heart a little bit, even if she's inwardly chastising herself. she must needs see to it that he is careful. it's been announced that the disease isn't airborne, so as long as she is on top of keeping him clean and at a distance from any sneezing, things should hopefully be all right.

they'll have to be. heaven help them both if he comes down with this too.

her eyes follow him briefly while he moves to the kitchen, watching to be sure he's scrubbing his hands well, before she at last begins to amble listlessly back toward her bedroom, sweeping a hand across her eyes. even being on her feet this short amount of time has her head spinning. ]

[ Excuse, he's a perfectly capable handwasher, thank you very much! He's not just making a convincing show of washing his hands for her sake, though. She doesn't want to get him sick, and he knows she'd feel responsible if he comes down with it, too, even if he did pick if up from someone else. It's not as if he wasn't around the market district handling infected food all day, either.

Once his hands are thoroughly washed and dried, Prompto trots off towards her bedroom, stopping to lean in the door frame. It's - hard not to think about the last time he was in here, incomparably happy, and it hurts, a little, just what a different atmosphere is clouding around them now.

He drums his fingers on his arms, giving her a look over. She looks...miserable, and his stomach twists, knowing there's nothing he can do to immediately make her feel better. ]

Have you ever seen a pair of hands so clean before?

[ He tries for his usual cheer, grasps at it, but it's - hard. ]

Did you try...taking anything for it?

Edited (NVM REPETITIVE ) 2017-10-04 02:17 (UTC)

[ LOOK she's not taking any chances, okay. because yes, if he comes down with this as well she will absolutely feel responsible, no two ways about it, and the last thing he needs is to be sick. especially when they've no idea what it even is.

with a soft exhale she sits at the edge of her bed, rubbing at her eyes with the heel of her hand. funny, how it feels so strange being so far from him - it's only a few feet, but they've been so hideously affectionate for this last month that it feels almost alien to share a room with him without sitting next to him, or holding his hand, or kissing him.

weird. god. what have you made her into, prompto??

his attempt at cheer does earn him a weak smile, however, if only because it's cute, how hard he's trying, and she wants to give him at least that much. but soon after, she shakes her head. ]

Nothing has helped.

[ but of course, he was likely expecting that answer. ]

[ He was expecting it, but it doesn't make it any easier to hear. After the bomb went off, he'd heard about the cure research effort going on at the Institute, and if he were even the least way inclined to do something like that, he would have headed there the instant he found out she was sick. But he's not, and this isn't just a case of him selling himself short. He'd only get in the way, and he has to trust those that know better to do good work there.

In the meantime...he'll do what he can, even if it isn't much. ]

Hey, it's only day one. We'll figure out - something.

[ Gods, it's driving him crazy, to keep his distance like this, to not tuck her in his arms and curl around her until she falls asleep. It's worse than before they started dating, when he'd had his feelings for her but been too abashed to act on them. Now, he knows better, and it still makes no difference.

After a moment of silence, he pushes himself off the door frame and steps towards her bookcase, looking over the titles. ]

So...in that case, might help if we got our minds off it for awhile, wouldn't you say?

[ that she is inclined is what makes this all the more frustrating. alisaie doesn't have a great amount of experience when it comes to medicine particularly, but she's got a decent grasp of alchemy and she could certainly be of use somehow, in some way. but she's not. she's stuck here, completely useless to everyone, a risk, a problem, rather than the solution she'd much rather be. it drives her far more crazy than being housebound.

at least he's stepping into the room, which is a little closer than hovering awkwardly in the doorway as if there's nowhere he belongs. prompto is just about the only comfort she has at the moment, and while her heart still battles with her mind over the idea of sending him away for his own good, she still feels a gentle relief once he's closer.

scooting back onto the bed, alisaie turns her face to cough into the elbow of her sleeve, the sound rattling and rough enough to make her eyes water. after, she's drawing up her legs and pulling the covers up high against the fever chills. ]

That's - a good idea.

[ with a weary smile - he sure does know the quickest ways to her heart. ]

[ Geez, that cough sounds just awful. How could the sickness have spread so quickly, so easily? And this is only the first day. Would it get worse?

- No, he can't let himself get wrapped up in thoughts like that, for both of their sakes. He can only imagine how she must be feeling right now, homebound, unable to do anything to help the situation by the very virtue of the fact that she is sick. He doesn't need to make that any worse by posing any what-if's to her. They'll - they'll figure this out.

It'll be okay.

He scans the shelf, making a show of looking very thoughtful as he does so. ]

Okay, so...got any recommendations? I'm a sucker for swashbuckling adventure, gotta say.

[ OR ARE THESE ALL NERDY HISTORY BOOKS OR SOMETHING ]

[ ............... yeah they're mostly all nerdy books whoops. history, biology, astronomy, physical theory, the list goes on.

for how exhausted she looks, she's still smiling as she settles down against the mattress, turned onto her side so she can watch while he peruses the shelf. it's silly, maybe, but it's a nice image, mundane and simple and domestic in a way that warms her heart. maybe it's just that she's glad to see him after such a harrowing day, that his very presence is a welcome relief, she can't say for sure but nevertheless, no matter how miserable she might feel physically, already she is feeling better simply because he is here.

but she's not going to say that, because it's hideously sappy, so you'll just have to read it yourself, prompto, in her soft smile. ]

Well I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that there isn't much fiction over there.

[ because yeah, don't let the sass and sword fool you she comes from a long line of prestigious nerds. ]

I think there may be a volume of folk tales, though.

[ neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerd

But that's okay, maybe he can pick something up later when he comes back. Sure, because...he can find time to go to the book store, in between everything else. There's no question he'll be over plenty, though - at least visiting at the door, if she doesn't want to let him in and risk getting him ill. He'll respect whatever she chooses, but...

Well. It's not like he has much going on at his place.

He runs his finger across the spines of the books until he pulls the book of folk tales off the shelf. ]

Man, I can't remember the last time I looked at a book like this. [ He opens it, flipping through the pages before perching gingerly on the end of her bed. ] Remind me to bring over some comic books to keep you busy.

[ ok, they're both nerds ]

[ RUDE never 4get you chose this nerd ]

"Comic book"?

[ yeah she's never heard of that, sounds fake. once prompto's sitting, she curls her legs up a bit to give him room and he's closer now but it still feels.. strange. since that first kiss prompto hasn't really kept his distance - quite the opposite, if we're honest here. ]

You should read more often, you know.

[ this is her sickly chastising voice ]

[ ...It's strange for him, too, but he's trying not to dwell on it. If he stays focused on her, maybe he won't think as much about the restraining order forced between them by her illness! That...totally makes sense, right?

Still flipping through the pages, he tosses her a wry smile. ]

I-I read! Comic books involve reading...with lots of pictures! [ Even still, it's not like he's done much of that since he'd left Insomnia, half a lifetime ago. ]

Maybe...we could find a book to read together.

[ Folk tales were all well and good, but depending on how long this last, maybe they'd need something more. And...it sounds nice, doesn't it? The two of them reading together, to each other, something to draw their attention away from everything going on outside this room. ]

[ yeah sure that'll work. except not. just start looking really pathetic, prompto, and she'll fold like a house of cards.

but his suggestion brings a smile to her face, and she gazes at him fondly from beneath heavy lids. ]

.. I'd like that very much.

[ what a nice thought, tucking up against him, sharing a book - that's more or less her romantic dream. that, and murdering monsters together, probably. both are good. only one is marginally feasible at the moment, however. ]

If you find a book that interests you, we can share it.

[ He doesn't want to make her cuddle him out of pity!!! He's fine... ]

Would you? [ He would have guessed as much, but it's still nicer to have her confirm it than him just assuming like the hopeless romantic he is. Hopefully - hopefully - there will be a cure tomorrow, and they won't even need a book to pass the time while she's sick.

But...if that's not the case, they have a plan. ]

I'll take a look around then. [ He'll find time. Make time. ] For now, how about...

[ He skims the page he's landed on. ]

...Man...these're kind of gruesome!

Edited 2017-10-05 05:58 (UTC)

[ why not pity cuddles are still cuddles, accept them!!

but of course she would, she doesn't even have to answer that. just thinking about falling asleep to the sound of his voice, leaning into him, is making her sleepy. not that she hasn't been sleepy pretty much all day. ]

Oh good, find a particularly juicy one.

[ give her blood, prompto. ]

[ She does look so easily cuddle-able like that, tired and sickly with her hair worn down...

He bites his lower lip and he reads into the tale he's landed on a bit. Wow. This is - sure something. If she wants blood, this is the one??? ]

This one's got people impaling themselves on...on spikes. How does that sound?

[ This is romantic. Hopefully he can make it through without being the one to pass out. ]

[ right. she's all tucked in blanket looking groggy and all flushed with fever. don't you just wanna get up here and snuggle like crazy. do it prompto do it ]

It sounds exciting.

[ but he doesn't look terribly enamored by the idea. slowly, a coy smile tugs at her mouth; are you looking a little green around the gills there, prompto? he's such a soft boy. ]

.. feel free to choose another, if it's too bold for you.

[ UGHHHHHHH THIS IS THE WORST POSITION TO BE IN EVER ]

H-huh? No! No way. Please. I can handle this...

[ He's just exercising an understandable level of concern about a weird, spooky story. Before she can tease him again for being a scaredy-cat, he pulls his legs up onto the bed and turns, so he's sitting cross-legged across from her.

He clears his throat dramatically. The story is about to begin! ]

Just remember - you asked for this. [ And then, in his best story-teller voice: ] There once was a man who had three daughters who were all married to trolls. He went to visit one daughter, and she wished for - beef broth? Okay - for the meal, and asked her father to go get some. Instead, her troll husband simply rammed his head into a spike in the wall [ because that makes sense ] and soon they had broth enough to eat. The troll even gave him a sack full of money and sent him on his way. The man left the sack lying on the ground, because he wished to hurry home to see if his pregnant cow had yet given birth.

[ He glances up at her, expectantly. Should he keep going? IT'S PRETTY WEIRD... ]

[ look how lonely she looks up here, so small in her big fluffy blanket just waiting for a freckled blonde boy to come wrap her up in his arms!!

there's a shine in her eyes once he prepares to begin, though - it's been a long time since anyone has read to her, and it's nice. with this fever it's difficult for her to concentrate on small, cramped words on a page so it's nice to experience this again; it's like living in an old memory. louisoix used to read to her all the time when she was young, and she and alphinaud had read to each other plenty of times, so this is very enjoyable.

wow this story is weird, though. she doesn't seem perturbed, however, only a little thoughtful. ]

Mm, go on.

[ S T OP THIS

If he notices the shining in her eyes, he makes no sign of it, his gaze flickering between the page and her face to read her reactions as he goes. He'll focus on the story for now, as much as the reflective light in her eyes makes him want to gather her up in his arms and burrow close while he reads to her.

It sounds so nice, doesn't it?

The story, however, uh, less so. He goes on: ]

So...his wife told him the cow had not, and went back with him to get the money, but it had beentaken by a thief, and she was quite upset with him. He told her he had learned his lesson, though, and that the money wasn’t important. Next, he went to visit another one of his daughters, and they needed light to see. The troll said candles were unnecessary and simply stuck his hand in the fire, giving them all the light they needed. This troll gave him two bags of money, and he lost them the same way as the first. His wife was frustrated, but once again he said he had learned his lesson. He then went to see his third daughter, and they wished for fish to eat. Her troll husband had them row out to the lake, he went into the water and came out with a multitude of fish. He gave his father-in-law three bags of money, which he lost foolishly in the same manner. Once again, he claimed he had learned a valuable lesson.

[ He takes a breather here. Is this even going somewhere?? ]

Not long after, the man was with his wife at home and they needed broth, so he tried to jam his head on a spike. Unfortunately, this failed to produce any broth, and he was miserable for a while afterward due to his self-inflicted injury. Soon they needed light to see, and instead of candles, he burned himself sticking his hand in the fire, attempting to replicate what the troll had done. Eventually, they needed food, and his wife wished for fresh fish to eat. He wanted to show her he could be a good provider without buying food, and thus asked her to come with him in a boat to get the fish. They rowed out to the lake, and imitating the troll, he went into the water to scoop up the fish, and he never surfaced again.

[ He looks up at her, brows flat. ]

...Huh.

[ Yeah that's. All. Huh. ]

[ can't stop won't stop she's so sleepy and adorable up here that you'd forget she is ever a sassy menace. and she's all warm too because, you know, fever. don't you just want to squeeze this smol elf like a teddy bear AREN'T YOU SUFFERING FROM LACK OF CUDDLES she sure is

but she listens to the story anyway, quiet the entire time. if he's looking for a strong reaction he'll be disappointed, alisaie simply looks.. rather amused the entire time. partly because of the story itself, but also because of how prompto looks while he's reading it, all of his opinions clear as crystal right there on his face. gods, she's so fond of him.

the face he makes once he finishes and looks to her, however, earns a laugh that soon dissolves into a rattling cough which she turns against her sleeve. worth it. she's still smiling once she recovers, wiping her eyes. ]

The moral of the story, I suppose, is that trolls make for excellent husbands. Mayhaps I must needs reevaluate our arrangement.

[ It's so good to hear her laugh, genuine and full, even the sound of the cough that follows lances right through his heart. This is killing him. He so much wants to be a comfort to her, to take away her aches and pains as best he can, and even with a distracting story, there's only so far they can get away from the reality of their situation.

If he gets sick, she'll blame herself. That'd be worse than the distance between them, this lingering gulf.

Wouldn't it?

Idly, he starts unlacing his boots. It's a clear message, that he's intending to stay for awhile, but he hardly acknowledges it - and his fingers still a moment later, a giddy laugh rolling out of him, high and clear. ]

Man! Who would've guessed a troll would come along to steal my girl? [ He slips one boot off, watchful, even as he teases. ] Fair warning, though - I hear they smell terrible. [ And the other boot. ]

[ it may only get them so far away, but a distraction is a distraction, and after a day like this it is very welcome to do something so comforting, so simple and mundane as enjoying a silly story. even better that it's prompto who shares it with her.

when he begins to unlace his boots, however, there's a shifting misgiving in her heart, the pull of guilt. he shouldn't stay.. but gods, it's so nice to have him here. he may want nothing more than to ease her aches and pains but honestly it is the fear that unsettles her the most. she's a soldier, a fighter, she's accustomed to pain and discomfort, for as often as she lands herself in the infirmary - but flesh wounds heal, broken bones mend. this.. this sickness is nothing so simple, and she hides it well beneath her usual quips and jabs, but in truth, she is petrified. she cannot fight this thing with magic or a sword, nor can she reason it away. if it turns out to be nothing more than a flu she'll surely feel silly for it, but deep in her bones she's terrified.

there's no reason to share it. they both know what it is that they are facing, that this illness is devious and unknowable, and surely he is just as frightened as she. so little things like this, books and soup and his warm presence, are the best sort of balm she could receive.

she should stop him. she should send him away. but she cannot. ]

You claim to smell better?

[ she wrinkles her nose and sniffs, narrowing her eyes. ]

Those boots of yours attest otherwise.

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