(OPEN [& closed starters in comments] )

[enarms]

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! ]

Comments

[enarms]

[ 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.

[flashystyle]

[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.

[enarms]

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. ]

[flashystyle]

[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.

[enarms]

[ 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 ]

[flashystyle]

[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.

[enarms]

[ 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. ]

[flashystyle]

[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.

[enarms]

[ 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.

[flashystyle]

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?

[enarms]

[ 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. ]

[flashystyle]

[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?

[enarms]

[ 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. ]