down with the sickness | closed catch-all

[juniberries]

Who: Princess Allura (juniberries) & others. please plot with me if you want a thread!
What: Allura is infected with VIOLET2710, and is suffering from Stage 1 & Stage 2 of the disease
When: Oct. 2nd thru Oct. 18th
Where: various
Warning(s): descriptions of illness, violence, mentions of death & intergalactic genocide


[ooc: as stated this is a catch-all log. please refer to my plotting post or PM me if you want a thread!]

Comments

@ koltira | oct 8th

[juniberries]

[they call to her from somewhere. she's not certain from where, but it's somewhere and before the crack of dawn. olympia is still completely in darkness, beyond the street lamps and the few households and establishments that are still active even in the late hours of the night.

she slipped out of her flat unknown to her teammates, body aching, skin warm to the point where she's out in her nightgown and a robe, shoes slipped on and taking no notice of the cool breeze of autumn. her chest is tight, and every so often she pauses from her walk to somewhere to turn her head to cough, but she continues onward as though sleepwalking.

the voices take her to the Market Place. not because of what had happened a week ago, but because it is the central hub of this city. and for a moment, to her, it seems to be day, the sky a bright purple-blue of an Altean autumn, the streets lined with vendors selling familiar foods and foods from allied planets. she approaches what she thinks is a flower stall, selling native, seasonal plants, and Allura reaches out to touch the curling vine of a Glorious Midday Purple. but unable to feel its velvety petals, the facade of an Altean marketplace disappears into the darkness of Olympia's nightlife.

Allura stands there, heart heavy, confused, and she pulls her nightgown close as she shudders a bit, coughing. she needs to go back to her apartment. she's having a nightmare again. but there's a familiar laugh from behind her, a light, joyful, feminine one she's not heard in millennia.

she turns, only seeing a figure with long white hair.]

...Mother?

[respired]

[ Koltira's searching for clues, and not really having much luck in the effort. He had seen the tall woman swaying in the corner of his eye, but dismissed it as both nothing suspicious and none of his business. But, now--she's in front of him. Addressing him.

He reaches to steady her, instinctively, his palm cool as an evening breeze. This stranger looks awful. One of the afflicted, he presumes, but ... ]

Pardon?

[ Did she just refer to him as her mother? ]

[juniberries]

[The hand steadying her is cold, but with a fever she cannot tell just how cold. But it is physical contact following the mirage of an Altean marketplace, and for another brief moment she still sees the familiar flash of pink of her mother's dress, the soft curl of her white hair.

She pulls herself close, hugging who she assumes is her mother.]

I missed you.

[respired]

[ Koltira goes stiff at the embrace, and if Allura felt a chill before, she likely feels a whole-body gust of tundra breeze at this contact. Koltira's not wearing his armor, at least--just a simple black tunic--but his skin is like ice beneath the fabric.

Koltira, for his part, isn't sure what to do. Allura's fever-warm. Sick, obviously. He stares straight ahead, over her shoulder, his ears twitching. ]

You've made a mistake.

[juniberries]

[Obviously sick, and obviously uncaring of the fact that the body she's pressed up against is bitter cold-- until reality actually begins to sink in, and she shivers. The pink dress of her mother disappears to black, the voice she can hear so clearly with her cheek against him is decidedly masculine.

...she has made a mistake, and despite the bone-chilling cold of the man she's holding, Allura can feel the white-hot burn of an embarrassed blush creep all over her body, and she pulls away quickly, arms hugging around herself as she shivers again, looking at the strange white-haired man.]

I...I apologize. I do not know what came over me.

[respired]

[ He's not quite sure how to proceed from here. His instinct is to walk away, maybe pretend he never met her and that this absolutely never happened, but she's clearly sick. In a past life, he might have left her to whatever she's suffering--but he no longer lived that way. ]

You are sick.

[ Stated without inflection or emotion. ]

You should not be here.

@ dylas | oct 10th

[juniberries]

[it's getting worse. she knows it, but ignores it. because she has a mission to do. to either find those responsible for infecting others (and herself) with this mysterious illness, or at the very least, to figure out just what happened.

there are rumours. she's heard them with her own ears; one of them at least. there are others on the network too, gathering information. she's read, watched, and listened to these conversations in bed when she's stayed there for far longer than she needs to. but today there's this energy, something she's not felt in a long while. she's not had breakfast yet, feeling no need for it, and despite being told time and again to remain in bed she's out and about, dressed in her Royal Guard outfit, though her hair is not as neatly done as it should be, though she thinks it's passably neat enough.

she is wearing a mask around her mouth though. she does so whenever she's out, to keep others from catching whatever she has. it's a surgical one she procured from Sanctuary, a bright pink which compliments the pink accents of her all-black attire. she's at her station near Sanctuary, using her sudden burst of energy to actually do her job.

and for a good while, it remains normal, with a cough here and there, and her pinching her nose to stave off her congestion and headache. but suddenly, she sees him. one of the Galra responsible for breaking into the Castle all those months ago. a skinny, lithe thing who had been Sendak's second. she thought him dead, but perhaps this place can bring those back. she follows him, down an alleyway where the Noble District ends and the Entertainment District begins.

but the moment she turns down the alley, the energy dissipates and the Galran figure seems to be no longer there. in fact, she forgets why she's there all of a sudden; a blank in memory. she only remembers she's on duty, that she's sick, but somehow wound up in the wrong District and she feels...bad.

very bad.

she leans against a wall, head in hand. and the (now four) mice who had been chasing after her, to make sure their Princess was safe and well, turn back to scamper to her post, slipping past those entering the Sanctuary to find the nearest person for help.

and of all the people they decide to go to, they make their way to Dylas, scampering up the leg of his pants to get his attention.]

[sullenstallion]

[Dylas doesn't like space mice.

He's decided that today. He's seen one or two of them around before, watching him. Today, he's also learned that one fits very nicely in his hand. Unfortunately for Chulatt (the grumpiest looking one, how fitting), he's managed to fit the mouse in his closed hand in a way that prevents biting for the moment.]

'I'll give him back once you're far enough from the bakery!'

So, he's been personally feuding with the mice the entire trip from his job to Allura's post. He no doubt has small scratches and bites to prove it, but he hasn't actually harmed any of the mice. If anything, he's being herded by them more than he is following them. It works in the end; he drops Chulatt the moment he sees Allura in that position. Crap. It's been a long time since he's seen her, and...has she even noticed he's here yet?]

Hey. Princess.

[He steps closer. Because he's been working, his hair is tied into a...no, he won't use that word. He's using a hair tie to make his hair easier to handle. Something twists in his gut. He doesn't have a great feeling about this.]

You alright?

[juniberries]

[It's not like the mice to hold intense grudges, but holy quiznak they weren't being annoying, they were looking for help!! And Chulatt does not like being manhandled in such a manner. He's definitely scrabbling around as best he can from within Dylas' grasp, squeaking loudly in what is, no doubt, little mousey curses.

But the mice have a task at hand, and as dense as this guy seems to be, he is the only one nearest who 1) Allura knows and 2) works in Sanctuary, so despite Chulatt being held captive, they are indeed herding him to where their Princess is.

And lucky for them, she hasn't moved. In fact, she's hunkered down a bit where they had left her, still trying to keep everything from spinning. Chulatt is unceremoniously dropped, and any other day he'd have bitten at Dylas's ankles, but the state of the Princess is what's on their mind, and so the moment he's free he joins the other three mice at their Princess's foot.

He does shoot Dylas a look as though to say See?? We were trying to get help, you idiot.

Allura rubs her head, turning to the sound of her title. For a tick, even with his long hair tied up, he looks like someone else, and she squints up at him, hand pressing against the wall to hold her weight and steady her as she rises.]

Father...? [The image dissipates completely, and instead the tall man standing before her is--

The hopeful look turns into an embarrassed one, and she frowns.] Oh. Dylas...

[sullenstallion]

[Okay, look, it's not Dylas if he doesn't pick a fight with someone who deserves it. The space rodents can come heck him up with scratches later while he sleeps, it'll be fine and terrible. But at least their ploy worked. Dylas can be terribly dense (is terribly dense?), so it's a small miracle that he's managed to figure out what he's supposed to do here.

And he's going to ignore that look, but he has the vaguest feeling that these mice think they're superior to him somehow?

He rushes forward, not wasting any time in placing a hand to her back so she doesn't falter. He can tell she's sick. He helps her up, but he also stands as close to her as he can just in case she falters.]

Wha? No. [He's glad he doesn't have to correct her, though his face looks wildly confused until he remembers the symptoms he's been seeing. And at seeing her hopeful face turn into that expression...his ears droop, his own omnipresent frown turning just a little sadder somehow while his tail tucks against a leg.] Yeah. I'd feel the same way. Am I taking you home or to the Sanctuary?

[There's definitely finality in those words. He's not going to accept any other answer.]

[juniberries]

[She nearly refuses his help, but as she tries to stand the alleyway begins to spin once more, and she does grab for his arm, resting her hand against him for support until the wave of vertigo subsides.]

No, I've...I'm glad to see you. [She really doesn't want to tell him she's been seeing things. Not for fear of worrying him, but for fear of sounding crazy. She already had one embarrassing encounter a day or so ago, after all, and she doesn't need to relive it, especially not with someone she already knows.

The finality of Dylas's statement, however, isn't lost on her, and she grimaces a bit, moving her hand away from him to stand more firmly on her own.]

Neither. I just need to sit, catch my breath for a tick.

[sullenstallion]

['I'm glad to see you.' Ouch. That's like a knife in his gut given how he spoke to her that last time they ran across each other. She'd tried to help him then, and he'd refused. Now the tables have turned.]

I didn't know you were sick.

[It's not 'nice to see you, too' but his voice is tinted with concern regardless. He stays right where he is, grabbing her arm somewhat roughly when she tries to pull away. It's not the roughness of someone trying to stop her or hurt her, just Dylas not knowing his own strength. He's trying, okay?]

I don't think that's what I said. I can't believe I'm going to do this. Look at what you're making me do.

[With a sigh, he turns his attention down to the mice.]

Where am I taking her?

u already know

[emblazes]

[Today's shift felt much longer than it actually was, so goes the story of being forced to be present somewhere when you're far too busy for it. Sorry, work, Keith's been on an infogathering streak and being stuck in the red light district puts an hours-long restraint on his efforts.

Not that his work doesn't, or can't include asking for details on a very specific cure for a very specific disease, but he can only get so far in his designated area. He'd rather not engage with most people. Not everyone's skeevy, par se, but most people here aren't interested in talking about the plague. It's an odd place for it.

To make an XL, unrelated story short: his shift ends, finally, and he makes a beeline for home thereafter. Something about how it's a bad idea to leave Allura on her own for too long, just in case. Things were only getting more difficult for her, tough as she is. He arrives without incident and lets himself in just like any other night, calls out to make sure she doesn't think anyone random's busting in:]

"Allura? I'm back."

[And to make sure she's still conscious somewhere... .]

aww yeah

[juniberries]

[She's fallen asleep on the couch, AKA Keith's old wannabe bed. Her day clothes are still on, the surgical mask she's taken to wear has slipped down and off her mouth, and either she's been out despite Lance and the mice's attempts to keep her on bed rest, or she had been ready to head out before being hit with lethargy and fell asleep on the couch.

It's not that the couch is particularly uncomfortable, but it's moreso her dreams and sickness that have her looking worse for wear. She's curled up in the fetal position, her bangs sticking to her forehead from sweat, brows furrowing and furrowing as her mouth remains in a tense, unpleasant line.

Keith entering the flat and calling her name does wake her, and through the haze of her fever dream she does hear it as Keith's voice, when she opens her eyes and sits up, the room in dark, it seems to spin, and she takes a moment to reconfigure herself, lethargy still sitting heavy in her bones.

What she sees is a large figure, a familiar, hulking silhouette against the light of the doorway, with bright yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness.

She cannot tell if this is a dream or not, but she does know who that is, standing before her, looming in the only exit of this place.]

...No...it cannot be.

[emblazes]

[There's a 68% chance Allura shouldn't...be on the couch. He's sure they established something about taking it easy, how she can just ask them for help if she needs it. They've got enough communication gadgets where either of her roomies could be at her side whenever needed...but on the other hand: he understands the desire to be independent and take care of shit in spite of whatever hurdle(s) may develop.

So, he's not surprised she's made her way to the couch and passed out. He is a little worried she may be overheating or something (that's what was happening with JJ) and with only the barest idea of what to do, it's automatically worrying.

But...she's conscious pretty quickly. Only, uh, that's a weird way to say hi.]

Yeah it...can?

[He tilts his head like a parakeet.]

My shift just ended. [More importantly:] Are you okay?

[juniberries]

[She can feel her heart pounding in her chest, remembering the last time she had seen Zarkon this close. She had been captured, shackled, at the mercy of his Druid Witch. But even then she had rushed him, attempted to fight him despite knowing it was futile.

And he was now here. In what passes for a home on this alien planet. Alone again, at the mercy of an illness that had her sleeping for who knows how long on a lumpy couch that still smells like teenage Earthling boy. She tries to power through it, the reality falling to blind eyes and ears, and what Keith actually says to her sounds like a faint voice at a distance, distorted by white noise.

She can't hear what's being said by that small distant voice. But she sees Zarkon approaching. Tilting his head in mockery. Her paranoia building. Anger boiling deep in her stomach. Struggling to rise up, to fight, she nearly falls from the couch to the floor, but centers herself, balling one hand into a fist.

I am awake now, Princess. She can hear him plain as day, though his mouth remains unmoving in a broken, violent grin. The Lions are mine. Altea is destroyed. And I will finish what I started. Here, on this small miserable planet.

She grits her teeth, glaring over at the figure.]

No. [She moves to stand up, balancing herself against the arm of the couch, wavering a bit as she starts coughing.] You monster, you cannot be here.

[emblazes]

[This is concerning; at first, because she looks drenched in sweat and completely indisposed -- the latter compared to when he left this morning. The secondary concern here is that she's looking at him so hatefully and talking to him like he's scourge of the earth. He's not able to connect the dots here, not specifically at least. Maybe her illness has driven her into a state of mania, but that's as far as he gets.]

Allura?

[He moves in closer, prepared to steady her as she looks like she's about to concuss herself on the floor. She does not, on the other hand, and even finds a crutch against the couch--]

What-?!


[Rhetorical; he heard her loud and clear, and while he has established that she's probably not thinking straight due to the disease, her words strike a nerve in some distant part of him -- big surprise fam.]

What are you talking about?! We all live here....

[competing]

[ the apartment is unnaturally quiet as lance finishes up in the kitchen. the small room itself looks like a landmine had just gone off on it, every imaginable pot and pan and kitchen utensil out and stained in some way, the overall aroma a strange mix of spices that would probably make hunk cry in pride and worry. he's been home the entire day, pausing from his vigorous peddling to look after the princess whose condition only continues to worsen. lance doesn't speak space mice, but he can tell from their tiny squeaks that their concern is only growing, and considering they're telepathically linked to her in some way... he's inclined to take cue from them. ]

Time for the finishing touch...

[ a small spring of mint, or some mint-like herb anyway, and finally the chicken noodle soup (or the space equivalent of such) is ready. he sets the bowl onto a tray and gathers that up to head towards the hallway leading into the other rooms. allura's door is closed, as per usual, which winds up being a bit tricky with his hands full, but he manages. peeking in, he nudges the door further open with a foot. ]

Allura...? Wakey, wakey...

[juniberries]

[the mice are reluctant to leave their Princess's sickbed, but are happy to help Lance with his cooking. he's no Hunk, but he does seem to know his way around the kitchen, and three of them have been assisting in anyway they can, while the smallest of the bunch remains curled up near Allura's head to keep an eye out for her.

as Lance finishes, they follow him, chittering as they do before growing quiet as they near the Princess's room. unfortunately, they can't help him open the door, but they slip under the small crack beneath to get to Allura before he does manage to open it.

Allura is still asleep; the burst of energy she had felt yesterday having completely dissipated, leaving her tired, lethargic, and miserable.

She doesn't exactly rouse when the mice enter her room and sit next to the other mouse at the head of her pillow, but when the door cracks open, and a voice disturbs the silence, she mumbles something, turning over in her sleep, frowning. she does begin to wake up. it's slow, heavy, and as she sits up she rubs her eyes.]

I've had...the most awful dream.

[competing]

[ he takes care to keep quiet as she stirs, shuffling in on padded slippers. the tray he sets on the desk nearby, careful not to disturb the way she's arranged things, if she's arranged them at all. when she sits up and speaks, he greets her with a small, tentatively tender smile. ]

Yeah...? [ gently prodding, should she feel like sharing. he draws closer, leaning down slightly to look her over. ] Well, it's over now, [ he adds a moment later, trying to comfort. ]

[juniberries]

[She has the gift mouse he gave her set up on the nearby desk, as well as a small arrangement of jewelry and free samples of candles she's made a collection of from the marketplace.

Were she not sick, she would appreciate him being careful not to disturb her stuff. But to be fair she would also not want him in her room, but.]

It was terrible, but I am glad that you are here now.

[As he comes closer to her, leaning down and looking at her with a careful gaze, she smiles warmly, tiredly, and reaches up to cup his cheek. His face feels smoother, but she's seeing him as she would when she was a young child. Before the war with the Galra Empire had tired him, before he had decided to grow out his beard.

She runs her thumb just below the curve of his blue markings.]

I dreamt that you were...gone, Father.

[competing]

[ his smile stutters when he feels the warmth of her hand on his cheek (too warm to be healthy, even with her alien physiology). his eyes widen a fraction, and a reflexive blush blooms across his cheeks. in that brief span between touch and sound, his eyes actually take in the look she's giving him. a fondness he had mistaken for exhaustion allowing her to let down her walls, but upon closer inspection he sees now as... something else entirely.

father, she says, and he feels his entire body go stock still. lips mouth around a silent oh, followed quickly by an oh no. ]

Allura, I— [ hastily, but still too belatedly, he reaches up to grasp her hand. draw it a fraction away from his cheek. ] You aren't feeling well, you're seeing things...

During stage 1 sometime in october

[heraldsdawn]

[ He'd been keeping track of as many people he could who had been in the blast sight. Any of those who had gotten sick. Sadly, he'd done a fairly poor job of it since he didn't have an exact list. Though when he finally catches wind of Allura having been also infected he's already heading over.

He's taken precautions to avoid getting sick, a medical mask to cover his nose and mouth and well keeping himself generally covered. In his left hand he carries a heavy look bag while with his right he begins knocking on the door. ]

Allura? Are you all right? I heard what happened. I have somethings I wanted to drop off for you.

[juniberries]

[Allura has taken similar precautions. After her conversation with Lance, where she continuously said she was not sick and that she was perfectly fine and it's just a cold, she does...finally concede to herself at least that she is a bit ill.

It may be well into the day when she finds herself a ~~gentleman caller, but when she opens the door, she's still in her pajamas. A nightgown. Wearing bright pink mouse slippers, as well as a pink surgical mask, a suggestion from Keith as that is something humans wear when not wanting to get others to catch their illness.

When she notices that it's Sen at her door, she blushes, hyper aware of her current state of...well...being, as well as dress, and she closes the door a tiny bit to instead peak her head outside the crack.]

I-I am fine. Just a little sick.

...allow me to change before you come in!

[heraldsdawn]

[ There's a long pause as he tilts his head just slowly to the side. Change? He finds this a little strange only because she's sick. There didn't seem to be a need to change. However, she is royalty, they always had to look their best even for such silly things.

He stands there awkwardly for one more moment looking at her before he finally answers back; ]

Um...all right. Take you're time.