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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! ]

Threaded | Flat

[ since the moment they settled in to olympia alisaie has felt, in her gut, that this idyllic balloon would burst, that it was only the calm before the storm that they faced and soon enough the other shoe would drop.

mayhaps it's simple remnants of her lifestyle, but on hydaelyn peace was ever fleeting. sharlayan might have been an isolated state, but she was taught of battle and the world outside, of the war-torn continents of their world, of the calamities that came again and again to disrupt what peace and construction they could find. and of course, since the tender age of eleven she had begun to witness it firsthand. the fall of dalamud that took her grandsire from her, the coils of bahamut after that, resisting the empire's grasp, the dragonsong war, the ascians - hydaelyn's troubles seemed never to end, and no sooner would they find a moment to cool their heels than some new threat would be upon them.

so she's ready for it when at last it hits - or as ready as one can be for something so violently surprising. at the very least she is not shocked, but the sickness that spreads soon after is.. concerning. riza had come home ill, and while it has seemed thus far more or less innocent, the very fact that it was brought on by a biological attack is telling, and she does not trust these symptoms.

of course she's quick to help, to assist riza in what ways she can, but it's not long before she finds herself dizzy in the markets, and thanks to x'rhun's quick intervention here she is, miserable on house arrest, following the network closely every moment that she can. prompto seems to have escaped it more or less unscathed, which eases her heart, and of course he's got his hands full with the guard, but she's still reassured once she hears that knock on the door.

she's in her nightdress when she answers the door, skin flushed and eyelids heavy, her hair down and wild from sleeping but she still looks intensely relieved to see him. ]

Thank the Twelve, you're all right.

[ at first, she blames the sun. it's high in the sky, and while autumn might be upon them it still feels rather like summer, warm and balmy most days. so when she begins to feel warm she can only assume it's from the afternoon heat, mayhaps combined with the terrifying excitement of the day's events - or at least, that is what she tells herself. she's far too stubborn to be sick.

but she's been close with riza, helping her from the moment she arrived home looking ill and ready to drop, so if this sudden insidious plague is contagious..

she's not going to think about that. alisaie had gone to the institute to retrieve what balms and medicines she thought might be helpful and then through the markets for herbs and extra ice, a few spare hand towels - things that might be of use. but gods, it's warm today.. near the end of her trip it's almost overwhelming, and she stops beneath a shady awning to lean back against a nice cool brick facade, tugging at her high collar and resting her aching head back against the wall.

just.. just a moment's rest. ]

[ If asked how her week would go Leanne would initially answer with "as always"; the days became easy to predict considering everything became relatively peaceful, so of course the last thing she was expecting was to be suddenly labeled a fugitive. Especially for what was once a job that gave off the appearance of being helpful towards Olympia—she had no part of this sudden attack, and given what little information she learned from since she had woken up from stasis she had a number of reasons to not turn herself in.

There's evident sympathy in her face and it pains her to hear that Riza and several others had suffered from the blast. An event that has no somehow connected itself to her, and of course she feels that it's necessary for an explanation. Something. At least before she turns all her attention on what to do next, fully aware that her presence within their apartment could lead to more unpredictable messes. ]

Alisaie. [ Without hesitation, after the other girl has finished tending to Riza for (probably) the umpteenth time today, she approaches. ] I need to talk to you real quick.

[ the one and only upside to being bedbound ~~against her will~~ is that she has plenty of time to comb the network. normally, between work, studies and personal obligations she hardly has the time to spare it more than a cursory glance, but save for reading and napping there's little enough for her to do.

granted, napping happens quite a lot. she's utterly exhausted, aching all over, with a resounding headache that won't quit and a fever chill that comes in waves - sleeping is a fine alleviation. still, she feels the need to reach out, to check in with everyone she can think of, and ysayle is on that list, so she'll soon be receiving a message from RedMage ]

Ysayle? This is Alisaie, are you well?

[Tending to the sick. The very notion of it settles strangely in Ardyn, memories of a lifetime long past threatening to billow to the surface, unkind and unwanted. It’s only with a longer lifetime’s worth of practice does he push it back down, letting it crystallize at his core. To ignore it, for now, to hide the disdain that lances through every thought and every movement as he crosses from residence to residence, providing “aid” to those who might need it. How laughable. The aid he provides is probably more emotional than anything actually effective (and the idea that Ardyn Izunia should be providing emotional support for anyone is hysterical), because what has he been given to tend to them with? Medicine to lower a fever, or to help one sleep through the symptoms. Soup to provide sustenance. As if soup was really going to ward off anything particularly nasty. As if very many of the bedridden, running fevers to begin with, really wanted something steaming to eat.

Regardless, here he is. Let into the abode and at Alisaie’s bedside, whom he recognizes as the young lady who refused to take his wayward watermelon not that long ago. Funny how quickly the tone has shifted, even if Ardyn’s demeanor seems to be relatively the same. He’s dressed in all black today, as is expected of anyone representing the guard — an irony that never fails to escape him, but he hardly ever comments upon it.]

You look particularly fidgety. Not one for being confined to a bed, hm?

[Restlessness. He knows it well.]

I’ve brought something to help you sleep, but first— are you hungry?

[Passing from another attempt at hearing anything that might help Rocket and returning to the Sanctuary is about when Amaterasu discovers her outside. She smells her before seeing her, of course, and she can detect the sickness, as well, and from the street below, she huffs, groans, and then rumble-whines into a single, sharp arf.

Come out from behind that book, young lady. Don't think she won't find a way up—an obvious fact, because, yes, that is the sound of her long claws scraping the door, trying to see if it'll give. Then, claws clacking on the pavement again, and shrill-scraping now, while she paws at the window. A lot of bumping and shuffling, as she considers breaking in, or going around the building to access the second floor, even if it isn't from the inside of it.]

This ominous wind hasn't pulled me down yet. How about yourself?

[With a name like SecondWind, it just has to be Gaius. He hasn't heard anything about her being sick—between helping to hunt for these mysterious associates and trying to help the natives when he can, Gaius has run himself a little more ragged than he's used to. But that's what teenage years are for, right?]

[ There's no luck involved when it comes to Riza, quite simply because she lives with Alisaie and she's hardly going to abandon Alisaie even if they both ought to be elsewhere.

What little research they've done into the unfamiliar gas has stalled, shortage of breath and weakness throughout their whole body enough to send them to bed early most days. And as much as Riza hates bedrest, hates the lack of motion - and more importantly lack of progress - that comes with excessive sleep, she can't help but accept that the best route to recovery is through proper rest and nutrition.

Even if said route looks dimmer and dimmer with each passing day.

She's not in bed this particular day but curled up in one of the couches, a book gone forgotten in her lap as she stares listlessly through the window. It slips out of her lap, enough to startle her back into focus - and alert her housemate, apparently, soft footsteps enough to catch Riza's attention. ]

Alisaie?

[ A question, though whatever uncertainty had colored her tone originally dissipates at the sight of the blade in Alisaie's hand, gleaming in the low light. ]

Alisaie. [ Firmer this time, soothing. This isn't the first time either of them have seen and heard things that weren't there, but it is the first time either of them have gone armed. ] Put the sword down. There's no one her but us.

[ But apparently, even just that is enough. ]

[ It should come as no surprise that of the individuals out prowling the streets, Sadu is among their number. She's just on her way back to her own home (A temporary respite, chasing after associates all day works up the appetite after all) when the unsteady footsteps catch her attention.

Fortunately for Alisaie, Sadu's already snagged the collar of her sleepwear firmly in one fist, thereby preventing her from matching her charmingly muddy feet with a faceful of road grit.
The Khatun is mildly annoyed by this inconvenience, of course. ]

Mind your footing, whelp. Where are you off to with such haste?

[ It's awfully sad to say that Prompto has found a rhythm in this chaos, a semi-routine in the pitiable reality that is his life now. He wakes, he tends to her, he works, he tends to her, he crashes at the end of the day - and he tends to her. However, that's not to say it hasn't been a constant battle, deciding where to focus his time. Should he go out and search for more people branded with an "M", despite the fact that every one they've caught so far hasn't told them anything? Should he help test cures at the Institute, fetching things and running errands for the intellectuals hard at work there? Should he be in the marketplace, helping those merchants piece their lives back together when it was on his watch that they were so swiftly dismantled? Should he keep ferrying soup around to those who were ill, even though their ardent appreciation didn't mean they were getting any better?

Increasingly, it's been difficult to do any of those things when Alisaie is getting worse. At first, he'd been reluctant to recognize it, even as little things clawed at the edge of awareness. It's not just the fever that has him worried now. It's the unpredictable moodiness, the temporary lapses in the soundness of her mind. Of her memory. Those moments, however brief, when she looks at him, but doesn't really seem to see him.

It has to stop. How much more of this could they take?

Then Qrow's news breaks on the network, and finally, finally, there's something good he can take home with him. They're one step closer to a real cure, and no matter how impossible it might seem to get something from the Wyver right now, that's...just what they'll have to do, isn't it?

But even with all that considered, it's good news, and he takes a little extra time to himself today, to pick up another book for them to read, if she's feeling up for it, even more soup for dinner (because there's no way she's sick of that yet, right?) and - something else. She...might think it's totally lame when he gives it to her, but current circumstances being what they are...

Nudging the already-ajar door open, he calls out to her when he enters the flat in the evening, to give anyone who might be there plenty of warning that he's coming in - is it home, now? It feels too presumptuous, to call it as much, but for all intents and purposes, that's what this place is now.

That he doesn't hear her answer isn't terribly shocking. She could be a sleep - probably should be asleep - and she shouldn't be shouting anything, with the way her throat has been.

That he doesn't find her in her room, however, is shocking, like ice-cold lightning, straight to his core. It takes only a cursory search of the house to confirm the worst.

She's gone.

He bolts out the door, darting out into the street and rushing - gods, where is he rushing to? Where would she have gone? Why didn't she tell him she was leaving? She should absolutely shouldn't be. Not in her condition. Is - is he overreacting?

His gut is telling him otherwise, and as always, he'll rely on it.

He rushes down the thoroughfare, eyes zipping wildly around for a shock of white hair that he is so desperate to see, all the while, calling out her name. ]

Alisaie! Alisaie! This is s-some - [ dammit ] - game of hide 'n' seek -

[ Without even consciously deciding to, he starts down the path towards the Institute. Maybe habit would have taken her there, too. But even if it hasn't, he won't stop there. There's no stopping, until he's found her. ]

Awful There's some sort of really rough cold going around and it looks like I caught it. I'm exhausted.

Aside from that though great.

[ let it be said that evacuating while being deathly ill is no easy task.

the flight there is a bit quicker than those who ride below, but alisaie does not fancy being alone for so long. it's an incredibly new feeling that she does not at all enjoy, considering how independence is in her nature, but she does not trust herself. with each passing day this illness takes more and more and there is not very much of her left to function on its own, her energy, stamina and sanity all so heavily taxed. left alone to her own devices, who knows what she might do? follow a specter right off of the griffin, attack the nearest friend or civilian.. gods, she's become so dependent upon others but there's no getting around the fact that she requires no small amount of supervision.

nevertheless, once in wyver proper she must needs fend for herself for a time, and she is not the only one who is sick and enduring - it is difficult, but she manages. thankfully alisaie is frugal enough with her spending that she has plenty of silver on hand, and she chooses the simplest, easiest open space available, a small ground floor flat off the main thoroughfare, modest but livable. she hasn't the energy even for typing out an explanation, so she simply sends prompto a picture of the facade, including the number plate, for him to find whenever he arrives.

and then it's time for bed. drained and fading, she drops onto the dusty bed and is asleep before her head hits the pillow.

it's the coughing that wakes her some time later, hacking and painful and wet, and when she pulls her sleeve away from her mouth it's bright red with blood. the pillow too is stained, half dried blood crusting at her ears and nose, the corners of her mouth - another hallucination..? ]

[ Catching wind of everyone in Olympia moving from there to Wyver is, despite everything happening, is a blessing. Sometime after she had left with the small group of runaways that had formed with a mix of fugitives and friends she had found out that the number of people falling ill had multiplied. And while she saw it coming from a mile away considering Alisaie had been taking care of Riza, she'd much rather shoulder that pain instead.

It worsens when she meets with other bedridden individuals who had been hit with the illness. Her anxiety builds in her stomach and blatant concern is expressed on her features with curved brows and eyes that perfectly reflected the sympathy residing in the chambers of her heart. Even if she was not behind this attack and was foolishly roped into it to be burdened with the blame it hurts that there was the strong possibility that she could have stopped this.

It's all that she can think when she's at Alisaie's bedside. Biting her bottom lip as she laces her features with seems to be neutrality, though knowing Leanne, a girl who wears her emotions on her sleeve, she's unable to simply ignore when the symptoms appear and there's evident pain coursing through the girl's veins. Reaching out she grabs onto her hand, lacing fingers and allowing her to find a sense of security within their grasp. ]

Alisaie.

[ Her voice is soft in attempts to continue concealing the fear in her voice. ]

Breathe, Alisaie. Slowly. [ But for the love of God just keep breathing. ] I'm here. It'll be okay.

[ SOMEHOW... UGH. ]

Threaded | Flat

prompto;

x'rhun

somewhere after the announcement and before alisaie gets sick??

ysayle;