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Who: John Watson (

enarms) & various & you!
What: Plague-time shenanigans. A plot duration catch-all.
When: October!
Where: The Sanctuary, the station, peoples' homes, the institute maybe, etc.
Warning(s): Sickness! Talk about the political climate they've landed in/warfare/general nastiness perhaps eventually. will update as necessary!

sanctuary

i (a) : [ in the Sanctuary, John's a fluctuating presence - but when he is there, he's good to patients, does his best to build some sort of rapport. mostly it's because beyond the standard checks and swapping of the cooling cloths and easing of the aches and shivers that come along with this damned thing, there's nothing else he can do. it does mean that out on the clinic floor the oftentimes difficult doctor is doing his best to share smiles and laughs with lucid patients. if you're in here for the long haul, chances are Doctor Watson's coming over to check on you. feel free to crack a joke, he'll probably laugh. ]

i (b) : [ but the ward floor isn't the only place to be in the Sanctuary, and John can sometimes be found in staff only areas looking a lot less optimistic than he tries his best to look for the ever increasing masses of people struggling their way through this infection. tired, chased, expression set into a solemn mask as he tries to think sense into the things he knows, or work out what to do next.

sometimes he's stamping hurried messages into his phone, sometimes he's staring at walls as he waits for a kettle to boil, but chances are good if you approach him in one of these pensive, frowning moments you'll get a bit more out of him than you would from the smiling man on his rounds. ]

out and about

ii : [ ever since John woke up one afternoon to the news of an attack in the busy morning marketplace, he's been on the go. from his place to the Sanctuary, the Sanctuary to the Institute, the Institute to wherever he's needed, he's barely stopped. you might find him now, in a moment of inevitable exhaustion, perched on a wall or a step or somewhere else not built for sitting with his doctor's pack full of supplies strapped firmly to his back, water bottle in his (gloved) hand and close to spilling or phone in his hand and close to falling as he drifts somewhere between sleep and waking. ]

iii : [ at semi-regular intervals, John arrives at the Institute to deliver a new collection of samples from patients freshly arrived to keep the people investigating this illness up to date with the most current forms of the infection. approach him to collect the most recent batch? stop him for an update on how things are at the Sanctuary? want to share some information with him from your most recent findings (he always asks upon delivery, you may have noticed by now)? ]

iv : [ at one point, after a trip up to the station, John's giving himself five minutes to actually stop, sit down, and eat something. you can find him at a table in the mess hall, avoiding the instinct to rush through eating the bowl of stew and bread he's collected for himself. the last thing he needs right at this particular moment is indigestion. join him? ]

wildcard/build your own adventure : [ he's travelling around basically all over the place, including:

the station
the institute
around town in search of DISEASE PEDLARS WHO DOES THIS
the residential areas to help refugees who haven't gone to the Sanctuary

so there's every chance that you may bump into a doctor kitted up with a mask, gloves and a bag full of medical supplies (or, sometimes, samples from infected individuals) anywhere you might happen to be. ]

[ ooc: more prompts may follow!! but if you want something specific, feel free to leave me your own starter or come and plot either in a PM or at

enarms! or! if your character would contact a doctor (or John specifically), feel free to hop into John's inbox and we'll hash something out icly that way! his contact info is publicly available via the network and he's actively invited people to use it so feel free! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Dorian knows those moments well. They came after dead ends at the Institute, failed concoctions leading to dead ends leading to frustration beyond what he thought he had the capacity for. But his trip here isn't to gather symptoms this time around, so when slides into the seat across from John, it isn't with as cross of an expression that it could be. In fact, it might even be kind.]

They're less miserable than they would be without you, you know.

[ John's not expecting company, barely even on the plane of thought (and consciousness, god is he tired if he thinks about it) that let's him recognise there's anyone heading his way, so he doesn't quite startle when Dorian speaks but does have a moment of coming back to himself, of blinking over at company—

and then recognition, and there's a brief flicker of something that's almost humour, like he's about to return to form and laugh him off... doesn't. he does huff a laugh, but it's not dismissive in the slightest. ]

Yeah. [ yeah. ] Well. Doing what I can.

[Dorian laughs once he sees John doing so, ignoring the brief moment he questioned on whether or not approaching him like this was appropriate. He crosses his arms and leans back, considering the slowness of John's movement like it's a challenge to find out how long he's been at work.]

Are you... doing alright? I could whip you up some tea, or... something. I'd offer my lap as a pillow, but I know you wouldn't take it.

Too kind. [ for the pre-withdrawn offer. ] It's alright, I'm fine. Just a bit - well. There's a lot going on.

[ John wipes a hand over his face, rubs at his eye. the catch of his smirk is own expense, but it's friendly enough. he's not the only one who's been working themselves hard since this thing started. apologetic: ] You know that just as well as I do. Sorry. How's it going?

[ there is, despite himself, the vague colour of hope in the question. ]

[John looks... frazzled, to say in the least. Dorian thought it might be a better surprise if he held off, but that hope isn't something he can crush. It'd be in poor taste... and a waste since breaking the news is why he came all this way.

So he leans forward, looking ready to grasp his shoulder before his fingers curl in. He decides against it, instead gesturing towards him with a look of praise.]

We've created a variety of remedies for their symptoms. My own prevents further contagion... It isn't a cure, but it's something that'll make your job much easier. Thought you'd deserve that, after doing all you do.

[ there's a long held breath that waits, caught in John's throat like he's forgotten it's sitting in his lungs as Dorian speaks of remedies, of a stopper on contagion— it's a couple of seconds after he's finished speaking that John finally catches up, that the breath gusts out of him on a sigh that brings with it a little skittering of laughter. ]

That's fantastic. That's— honestly, [ what are words? there's only so long he can look open supportiveness in the face, so he ducks his head to make some attempt at not burdening Dorian with watching the weight he didn't know he was carrying lift from his shoulders. once he's convinced he's got himself under a bit more control, it's time to fix him with a smile he can't help. ] Great to hear.

[ an idle reach out, unconscious mirroring of Dorian's re-purposed gesture that's cut off just the same and ends with John patting ineffectually at his own knee with a loose fist. ]

People might be able to start actually sleeping. Patients and staff. You've spared us the onset of the walking dead.

[ that's it John, laugh it off, keepin' it light, not feeling a thing. old habits die harder than most, but that doesn't mean he's not intensely grateful ]

Edited 2017-10-16 17:01 (UTC)

[Contrary to John's belief, the sight of his weight lifting from his shoulders is anything but a burden. Witnessing it lifts his own- worry of achievements being nothing in the grand scheme of things, of being helpless, of not trying hard enough, all gone. Just because he's smiled.

He wouldn't be able to help smiling in return, even if he wanted to. And he doesn't.]

Yes, well, I don't think I could stand to see good people getting that far gone. Especially not you- I'm sorry, but you could look better. In fact, I don't think I'm going to walk out of here until you've tapped out.

[ wow!!! a! laugh! no but alright, he'll concede the point and make no comment on the accurate assessment of the state he's in.

that doesn't mean he hasn't still got enough hidden reserves to make this anything but easy. ]

Are you trying to put me under sleep arrest? [ listen Dorian, he hates to break it to you but there's a distinct hole in your plan here. ] That's a risky play. You've basically just confined yourself to the Sanctuary for the foreseeable. I've got medicines to deliver to outpatients. Courtesy of this man who just wandered in, telling me they've whipped up some symptom suppressants.

[ wonder who that could possible be. ]

[Is there a hole in his plan? He can't see it. All John has done is boost his ego. Dorian sits back, crossing a leg over the other like he's fully prepared to just sit here all night. Try him.]

It sounds like that very courteous man- who must be delicious handsome as he is good- and I's intentions line up just fine. Thank him for me, will you? Tell him how wonderful he is?

I've nothing else to do but witness the foreseeable. Perhaps if you're kind enough to me as he is, I might just try and help you where I can.

[ you can sit there all night if you like, Dorian, but you'll be lonely. John has places to be.

but you're being difficult enough that he'll roll his eyes, huff out a half laugh and start to make a move to heave himself up to standing. ]

Haven't you got medicines to be making? I've got rounds to do in the city, then I'll go home and grab a few hours. And not because of your confused attempt to bully me into it, so don't feel encouraged.

Oh, it's far too late. I'm encouraged! So encouraged that I'll keep bullying you, even if it means rising to my poor, sore feet.

[Evidently living to be difficult, Dorian heaves a sigh and leans forward in his seat. He doesn't quite get up yet- he has been standing around nearly all day.]

I'll offer a compromise. I'm finished for the evening with this delivery, but I'll leave you in peace when we're near my apartment. Is that fair enough for you, dear doctor?

[ s... igh!!! but it's appreciated. even if he, too, has no real inclination to actually get up and go, Dorian's willingness to accompany him part way is something of a balm: it'll be nice to have something other than his own thoughts to walk along with for a bit. ]

Fine.

[ spoken in that overly burdened tone that suggests it really might be a bit better than fine. thanks, pal. and up he gets, accompanying groan confirmation that he's none too happy about being upright. ]

[He laughs at that, bringing himself to stand with arms outstretched. It's under the guise of cracking some bones, but it's really him using the opportunity to pat John on the back as he passes. He's smooth, that Dorian.]

You don't have to sound so excited for my company, I know. Come, I left them somewhere...

[Don't be so grumpy, John. Dorian even does him the kindness of carrying some of the medicine himself as they're out the door.]

Did you do this sort of thing, back home?

[ so they're off, and John might well have thrown a frowning smile after Dorian's patting hand but the man it's attached to is already off and away so it does him no good.

it's something else to know they're carrying the however temporary cure to contagion. the even stopping the spread of this thing will make a world of difference - it helps him to carry himself more lightly than he might have done before. gives conversation an easy care-free flow that would've been impossible an hour before, might well become impossible again. but for now, relief is a potent thing. ]

This, no. Didn't really deal with a lot of epidemics like this. But I've been a surgeon in a war zone, so it's not completely outside of my field of experience.

[ carrying the pack of supplies on his back (a pack he's collected and is wearing now, practically the size of him for all he's stuffed it full to avoid return trips) has been an oddly comforting weight, actually, throughout all this. ]

[ It's after four in the afternoon, some hours after her morning talk with John, that the pale elezen woman passes through the doors of the Sanctuary. Burdened with a white cardboard box, and several cups marked with whimsical dragon patterns. A few questions and one less cup of tea later, she steps into the small mess hall, then makes a beeline for the doctor.

And carefully sets down her burden with a small smile. ]

I am glad to see you've made time to eat. I had not realised just how busy it had become within the last day.

[ John, somewhat engrossed in the act of eating steadily and not wolfing it down, starts at company. lifts his head and— oh. oh, right. it's amazing how long a day can be, he'd almost forgotten to expect her. and yet here she is. and with steaming cups, no less. ]

Hi. [ the strange lag between looking up at her and remembering she's spoken to him in a way that could conceivably be responded to might be at place on a conversation over a struggling network - here, it's just evidence of exactly how necessary the meal in front of him is. ] —Sorry. Yeah. Yeah, it's, uhm - busy. Bit mental, actually, but we're managing. Thank you for coming. Sorry, did you want to sit down?

[ he'll wake up and remember how to interact like an ordinary person in a second, promise. ]

Hello. Please, continue, I'm quite all right.

[ There's a small smile, then she shakes her head, motioning for him to keep eating. Of the two of them, taking time for her meals are not something she has patients and staff to work around, and she'll not interrupt him. Instead, she sets the tray that had been atop the box to one side, and places one of the Wyvernest tea cups (take out, of course) before him, before flipping open the box. ]

Between myself and the other cafe staff, we thought this might help bolster some spirits. With permission from our employer, of course. [there's a dryness to her tone at that. Translation: happy to help -- as long as the cafe was seen to be generous in a time of need, that would stand them well in the public eye.]

[ Inside, half the box is taken up by a sea of sandwiches, mostly basic fillings and all cut into hand-grabbing quarters. The other is a mess of sugary confections, some a little squished looking, others broken or crumbling (such as the dragon-shaped ginger snap biscuits). ]

Still with us?

[As opposed to outer space. Claire announces her presence with soft words before putting a hand on his shoulder. While she's hardly left the Sanctuary since all of this started, she's aware he's been a busy bee, going from here to elsewhere and trying to keep on top of things.]

— Just about. [ says John, after jumping a little and shaking his head to pull himself back to reality. barely, is apparently the actual answer. "occasionally", maybe. ] Sorry, I was miles away.

[ she knows, John, that's why she asked. meanwhile, he reaches up to pat twice at the hand on his shoulder in acknowledgement. somebody's distracted, if he's making no efforts to not behave like an old man. ]

Hi. How're you? Doing alright?

You're all right.

[Smiling, she sits next to him with a soft groan. That's how she's doing. Her back and legs ache. Once, she worked tirelessly on a war field, pulling long hours that stretched into days at times. But she was also some years younger. Even Prestonpans didn't have her this sore. Then, all she needed to do was sew the wounds, amputate what couldn't be saved, or close the eyes of men passed. This sickness was something else.]

Hanging in there. Can I grab you anything?

[Before her muscles truly relax and she can't get up again.]

No, I'm fine. You sit down for a bit.

[ he says, also having no intention to move anywhere for at least the next few minutes. he'll return the offer her way in a minute - for now, just a quiet moment and some company is a luxury not to be wasted. ]

Still haven't managed to track down whoever it is that's responsible for selling. Got a list of suspects from the Institute side now, but nothing concrete so far. Bloody mess, eh?

[Sitting feels heavenly. Claire would take off her shoes if she wasn't certain her feet would swell the moment they were freed from their prisons. Alas.]

No kidding. I thought our arrival was bad, but this is getting there.

[ honestly, at this point, work barefoot. what's a stubbed toe thrown into the fray? ]

Yeah. I pity the poor sods who got a beach party in place of sudden fall from a great height, imagine the whiplash.

[ see also: lucky bastards. ]

My husband was one of those poor sods who got a beach party welcome instead of a miserable camping trip in the wilderness. This mystery novel is making up for it, I think. I feel justified.

[She's just worried about the patients getting worse. She rubs her temple, deciding to voice the thought now that they're out of earshot of anyone else.]

They're only getting worse.

Your husband's here? That's brilliant.

[ he hadn't heard, somehow, between being busy at work before all this and, now that he's in her company, the obvious distraction of all this mess.

but there's a more solemn subject to dwell on now, and John can't just brush it off. his head lowers, shakes out a short series of nods. ]

Yeah. Yeah. [ and then, ] I knew they would.

He is. [There's a brief smile.] His name is Jamie.

[Claire's kept a tight leash on him until now. There's been a lot she's had to tell him, catch him up on, and she had the unfortunate timing of doing that right before all this began. She's hardly had a chance to check in on him.

Later. She'll do that later.]

Not one person has improved.

[ John'll come back to that - makes a mental note to remember the name of Claire's husband, to inquire after him again in a day or so. keep him part of the conversation.

but for now, she's not wrong. and that's a tiring thing to know, as a medic, let alone to discuss. ]

I know. [ God. ] It's familiar. That's the shit part. The symptoms make sense and they should be treatable but they don't add up the way they should. And we're no closer...

[ no closer to finding out what they do add up to, really. and now, new symptoms, slow but sure. ]

All we can try to do is make them comfortable until something comes up.

[That, or they continue to worsen until... well. They can't get any worse.]

Yeah. [ yeah. that really is all that's left to be done now. and it's not a great feeling.

a moment of quiet from John. mulling that over. when he decides there's nothing else to be said, his hand lands over Claire's and he gives it a squeeze - then forces himself up to standing. ] Tea? I'm having. Think there might even be some stew about if you're hungry.

[The touch coaxes a smile out of her and she decides to compromise. Her way, it seems.]

You go get the tea and I'll get us some stew. I think we could do with both.

[ a smirk. well, there's no use in fighting that very sensible deal. ]

Yeah, alright. Milk, sugar?

Both. Heavy on the sugar, please.

[Because. Healthy.]

Yeah, good plan. [ honestly, if he thought he could stomach sugared tea, he'd join. they need all the energy they can get. tea preferences officially noted. ] Meet back here with our offerings, yeah?

[ Cheryl's dramatic network had not been entirely well received, making theatrics out of her flu-like symptoms. days later it becomes clear that she was right, as people across the city progressively become more ill.

while her roommate is at the Institute, Cheryl takes advantage of a burst of energy and slips out of the house with the intention of going to the shops. as usual she's dressed to the nines, and Cheryl thinks she looks great. an outside observer is sure to notice that she's wearing sunglasses because the light makes her squint and she's sweating a little more than is appropriate for the temperature. she's also a little wobbly on her stilettos, but she's trying her best.

she walks past where John is seated on the steps of a building, paying him no mind. Cheryl stops a few steps past him, turning back as though she's heard something. ]

Jason? [ she finally sees John, and approaches him. ] Did you see where he went?

[ John comes to with a start at the sound of a voice, long since used to existing on the precipice between sleep and waking so as to jump easily back into consciousness when he's called on. the voice that wakes him now isn't one he's familiar with, one he knows to listen out for, but that doesn't change his awareness. there are so many strangers who seem to know what his function is these days, he's stopped being surprised by it.

what he is vaguely surprised by is where he is when he wakes up, but he doesn't let it slow him down too much - half-awake eyes focus quickly in on the girl who's asked something of him, and his memory tracks back a few seconds to work out what. ]

—No. Sorry. Who?

[ given a few moments he'll start to notice the signs, but first he's getting himself up to his feet to look a little more alive. ]

[ Ariadne hates being stuck at home sick. She hates feeling helpless. So despite the fact that she's sick and no one really knows how bad the illness is or anything, she's doing her best to go about her daily life as normally as she can, given the circumstances. Given where she is.

When she spots - is that the doctor she talked to on the network? It has to be. Man, he looks -]

You look about as bad as I feel. You sure you're not sick?

[ he's on his way out of a doze when she approaches, and conscious enough to use the time between realising she's heading his way to her actual arrival to wake himself up a bit, become usefully coherent.

thankfully, turns out he doesn't need to be much more coherent than managing a snort. ]

Thanks. Yeah, thankfully. I'm fine. [ wouldn't be much use if he were. hang on, though, and excuse the rubbing of his face in the waking up effort, also the sudden cessation of the gesture as he catches up fully with what she said- ] You are?

Edited (I hate html) 2017-10-29 14:37 (UTC)

( cont. from here )

[ John doesn't take long after the dropped pin comes through: a bit of time to make sure his pack has the necessary medicines, equipment, a few containers for samples should he need them, then the location is a thought in his head and he's—

there. slightly disoriented - as he always is after the jump - in the middle of the room she's chosen, looking at a young woman he can only assume is, ]

Asta? Asta... Caplin?

[ spoken uncertainly, less because he isn't sure it's her and more because he has negative 30 confidence that he's pronounced her name correctly. ]

Edited 2017-10-10 17:12 (UTC)

[ finally, the army doctor. without a moment's hesitation, she nods sharply. only the few who've earned it call her Jyn and fewer still know her last name to be Erso. it seems she was prudent to lie, given the arrival of unknowns with an affinity for dark planets. ]

Yes. [ he fares well enough with the pronunciation, really, though she isn't fussy about her alias. ] Asta.

[ ah-stuh. said in a faintly english accent, if slightly off — making its specific origin unidentifiable. she steps away from the door frame and into the selected room. ]

Fancy meeting you properly.

[ in person, over a month after their first contact. that might be Jyn for nice to meet you. ]

[ with a name like Asta he really doubts he'd know where she came from even if she told him. so he doesn't ask: doesn't even dwell on it (it's really better not to these days). instead he cracks out a half smile at her greeting, and shrugs - for all he can with the pack full of stuff strapped to his back - his acknowledgement. ]

Fancy.

[ who'd ever have thought.

there's no real delay after that's all done before he's swinging his pack down off his back to perch it on a dorm bed, starting to unload the basics. he speaks to her over his shoulder. not the most personal meeting, but at this point in the fiasco going on below efficiency has proven key. ]

Have you got any symptoms that you've noticed? Anything similar to what your flatmates have been exhibiting? Cough, sneezing. Unusual temperature spikes or drops. Pain?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

(OPEN [& closed starters in comments] )

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i-b with a mix of iv

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ii

I am so sorry for the delay, feel free to leave it if you'd rather!

ii

so!!! late!!! feel free to leave it if you'd rather

@insurgent

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