dorian did many things wrong (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
flashystyle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
nysalogs2017-10-05 01:01 am
flashystyle) wrote in nysalogs2017-10-05 01:01 am
(open + closed in tags)
Who: Dorian Pavus (flashystyle) & you!
When: The week post-attack
Where: The Institute & Olympian Streets
Warning(s): Very tired would-be scientist doing his best
I. The Institute
[The Institute's most prestigious scholars working tirelessly to produce a cure sounds very inspiring on paper. One might imagine careful, clean environments with all neatly organized ingredients across their work stations. They may even go on to say that their researchers must have the most capable, cleanest, well-manicured hands for the job.
This is not the case for Dorian, nor his work station. The laboratory may have started clean, but it's long since deteriorated into the space of a man who has been taking advantage of the 8am to 4am hours since all this bombing business began. Unlabeled bottles are littered across the counters with no indicators as to what they are any longer, books are left open on dog eared pages far too close to the former, and stray notes have been made ineligible by stains of Orbiters know what. There's ever a hole eaten through the counter that might indicate if one had drank whatever potion came before what's currently simmering, the wouldn't have just been silenced by a sore throat.
Whether it be depositing findings, coming for updates, or passing through as an employee or visitor, you've come through the open door to this mess of a station. The one responsible for it has a hand through his hair with the other nursing a bottle that he hasn't quite noticed it isn't his water yet. He doesn't look up from the brew when you enter, but he does raise his voice the second you step through the door.]
There must be hundreds of different species out in the wilds. Hundreds! And yet all of them are either poisonous, just aesthetically pleasing, or only serve to make people talk to one another! I don't mind the talk, truly, but what is the point if no one has the solution to this sickness? Words of encouragement that only make the pang of failure hit harder? I'm close to just combining all the sleeping agents and putting the patients down for a long rest, because that might be less excruciating than trying all of these. What do you think?
II. Streets
[For research purposes, Dorian has tasked himself with picking up an overabundance of Liln from a flowershop outside the Market District. With the bomb being an airborne flu, they seemed to have fled to the point of becoming pests in places free of the sick. One might notice they're carefully contained in a glass jar as Dorian makes his way through crowds of citizens gathered to gossip... up until he runs into someone.
That someone might be you, or it might be another unfortunate soul who simply wasn't looking where they were going. Regardless, the jar of the creatures slips through his fingers, shattering into pieces once it hits the pavement. The Liln scatter in fear of being trapped again, consequently latching onto any hosts in the the vicinity of the broken glass. Needless to say, due to the suddenness spread of a brightly colored creature, Olympians around also scatter lest it be another stage of sickness. Those that stick around will find that the Liln harmlessly slipped onto their skin, forming a tattoo potentially revealing of their mood in their panic. They will also find that they're now in the company of a very tired man.]
Those were to be our test subjects for a cure, you know. [He says, lines of a bright red snake curling around his neck.] Best hope those don't make an M.
III. Wildcard
[Dorian will be around the Institute, Sanctuary, and the Red Light District at night looking to hear the information of others who are out capturing/gathering intelligence. If you've an idea for their interaction outside of the prompts, feel free to tag with it! Or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
meganerd for a closed prompt idea.]
flashystyle) & you!When: The week post-attack
Where: The Institute & Olympian Streets
Warning(s): Very tired would-be scientist doing his best
I. The Institute
[The Institute's most prestigious scholars working tirelessly to produce a cure sounds very inspiring on paper. One might imagine careful, clean environments with all neatly organized ingredients across their work stations. They may even go on to say that their researchers must have the most capable, cleanest, well-manicured hands for the job.
This is not the case for Dorian, nor his work station. The laboratory may have started clean, but it's long since deteriorated into the space of a man who has been taking advantage of the 8am to 4am hours since all this bombing business began. Unlabeled bottles are littered across the counters with no indicators as to what they are any longer, books are left open on dog eared pages far too close to the former, and stray notes have been made ineligible by stains of Orbiters know what. There's ever a hole eaten through the counter that might indicate if one had drank whatever potion came before what's currently simmering, the wouldn't have just been silenced by a sore throat.
Whether it be depositing findings, coming for updates, or passing through as an employee or visitor, you've come through the open door to this mess of a station. The one responsible for it has a hand through his hair with the other nursing a bottle that he hasn't quite noticed it isn't his water yet. He doesn't look up from the brew when you enter, but he does raise his voice the second you step through the door.]
There must be hundreds of different species out in the wilds. Hundreds! And yet all of them are either poisonous, just aesthetically pleasing, or only serve to make people talk to one another! I don't mind the talk, truly, but what is the point if no one has the solution to this sickness? Words of encouragement that only make the pang of failure hit harder? I'm close to just combining all the sleeping agents and putting the patients down for a long rest, because that might be less excruciating than trying all of these. What do you think?
II. Streets
[For research purposes, Dorian has tasked himself with picking up an overabundance of Liln from a flowershop outside the Market District. With the bomb being an airborne flu, they seemed to have fled to the point of becoming pests in places free of the sick. One might notice they're carefully contained in a glass jar as Dorian makes his way through crowds of citizens gathered to gossip... up until he runs into someone.
That someone might be you, or it might be another unfortunate soul who simply wasn't looking where they were going. Regardless, the jar of the creatures slips through his fingers, shattering into pieces once it hits the pavement. The Liln scatter in fear of being trapped again, consequently latching onto any hosts in the the vicinity of the broken glass. Needless to say, due to the suddenness spread of a brightly colored creature, Olympians around also scatter lest it be another stage of sickness. Those that stick around will find that the Liln harmlessly slipped onto their skin, forming a tattoo potentially revealing of their mood in their panic. They will also find that they're now in the company of a very tired man.]
Those were to be our test subjects for a cure, you know. [He says, lines of a bright red snake curling around his neck.] Best hope those don't make an M.
III. Wildcard
[Dorian will be around the Institute, Sanctuary, and the Red Light District at night looking to hear the information of others who are out capturing/gathering intelligence. If you've an idea for their interaction outside of the prompts, feel free to tag with it! Or hit me up at
☠️ Richard
However, since the news broke, he's hardly been back from work. When he is home, he only talks to Tad briefly before promptly passing out. He purposely hasn't spoken to Richard at all about this in his haste to leave to avoid their daily arguments. Little did he know that would just lead to him showing up at his work to say something... something? He wasn't paying attention.]
... I'm sorry, what are you saying?
no subject
[It's not like he wants to be sick! But he'd been hard at work since the whole incident happened and had left the armory to go and hunt down the associates of this so-called Shady Man. But he'd been noticing certain symptoms ever since. And now he was concerned- no, CONVINCED that he must be carrying the plague now. Unfortunately he couldn't exactly go to the sanctuary. The annoying doctor woman would just mock him all over again. Dorian was a far better alternative to the she-devil known as Claire Fraser.]
no subject
But he'll try. He runs a hand down his face.] Oh, that is... terrible. Awful. Can't imagine what you must be going through, really. Come, sit down down, tell the smart one why.
no subject
Well, at first I thought it was Tad Cooper that was sick. So I was going to bring him here, but I ran into Merlin and he tried to steal Tad Cooper and we had this really long and complicated chase... [At this point, it may be obvious that Richard's hair isn't the normal effortless salt and pepper look that makes him so lovable. It's a bit frazzled and there's a bird feather in his beard. On the edges of his beard is maybe... flour? And his boots have left a watery trail behind that hopefully no one trips on.
He did bring Tad Cooper though. He's in his box on the floor, casually munching away on a sausage half his size.]
Anyway, as it turned out, Tad didn't have a plague. He'd merely got into the candy bowl we made out of Vorin's dead plant pots and spat it back up. [Which... hopefully this hasn't been a long running thing. It was hard to walk by that candy bowl and not sample!] So, bully on him. No problem, right?
No. Because just as I was finished berating Merlin and watching his slouch away ignobly as he does, I realized I had a sniffle. Not unusual, in the broader sense. But my muscles were sore, I had broken out into a cold sweat, and I just don't feel like myself at all.
no subject
Then he hears-- and sees!-- Tad is just fine and sighs with relief. All of that Merlin business would have been funnier to him if it hadn't put his great friend at risk... his great friend being the reptile, and not the owner.]
That boy... I let him in here to try and help us with the cure, but I wouldn't take anything he gives you. Maker knows what he's gotten his hands into. [But now he can get onto business: messing with Richard. He turns in his seat, considering all his professional tools before carefully selecting what he'll call a tongue depressor, but was really just a stick from his finished fantasy cake pop.] It's best I check you out. Press this on your tongue, say "aaaah."
no subject
Ahh ahh ohh, ehhs uss ahh errrss. Aaah ooh eeeh aah ayy eh usss iiiiees aoout ooo aaa ooouhh aww ahh iiieh? Eh's iiiee aa aaaayy ahh ohh ahh iihh ooh eh ahhiiiee humm, eeeherrr.
[Yes, Richard tries to relay all that information with a stick in his mouth. It doesn't go well. Nor is there anything to really see in his mouth aside from a build of plaque. Does Olympia even have dentists?]
no subject
If you live through all this, you might just have a career in translating for monkeys. There is still hope. Say that all again for me when you're done, will you?
[He didn't even have to do anything for this to be hilarious. He's desperately trying not to break his contemplative expression with laughing as he withdraws the stick, sitting back with arms out as an example for the next task.] And why don't you do some stretches to those sore muscles? To see if they're still sore. Very important to determining the extent of your illness... Stand up do a lunge for me, arms out.
no subject
I was saying is that Merlin is the worst. Anyone who goes around sliding around on their belly like that invites comparison to a snake. No offense, Tad Cooper.
[Richard prepares to stick a hand out, but pauses.] Now when you say lunge, do you mean like a sword Hwah! lunge or more of a bodily Hrungh! lunge?
no subject
Oh, you... don't know? I thought... everyone knew this technique. You do a sword Hwah! lunge, then a bodily Hrungh! lunge, then you spin around, hop on one foot to the left, hop on one foot to the right. Then you clap while you spin again, then you hop, then you pose. All while reciting the alphabet backwards.
no subject
You know, I don't think I know one. Do you think you could show me?
no subject
I never could get the clap during the spin, so it'd be a poor example. No, I mean the move where you lean forward onto one knee while bending the other. Have you not... stretched before, Richard?
no subject
[And it's frankly not something he'd want to do himself. It's horribly painful, though apparently good for getting kinks out of your back in the brief moments before being ripped apart.]
no subject
[He'll think about it later and probably confiscate Tad's company. For now, he's a pencil and a piece of paper to start drawing a diagram. For yoga.]
Now, I know this might be an... insane concept, but do you think that your soreness could stem from the fact that you don't actually... move around?
no subject
[So no, it's clearly not that. Richard is clearly at the pinnacle of health! Chasing Merlin around has nothing to do with his current state.]