[Open] They're coming to take me away ho-ho hee-hee ha-haaa, to the infirmary!

[nadasharillen]

WHO: Everyone under quarantine who's sick
WHAT: Attempt to round up all the blueflu affected into a shared space
WHEN: During Phase 3, after quarantine announcement
WHERE: the Gallows and infirmary
NOTES: Please post your relevant content warnings in the headers of responses, all you beautiful hallucinating/sh*t losing butterflies ♥

With the Rifters drifting in and out of memory, the Templar needing a near constant slow infusion of lyrium--some needing to be doped up with sleeping draughts as fast as Colin, Christine, and the others who’ve devoted their time to the pursuit can make them--and the runners moving slower and slower as they sleep less and less, it's decided that moving everyone to a more easily watchable location for care would be the best, and safest, play.

[Nahariel, Colin, Audra, and any others who remain blessedly unaffected and volunteer are headed out to wrangle you... u mad?]

I. This is Fine

Coming (semi-)quietly? Drop a tag here to let us know, or if there's anything you want anyone to know about your movement, or if you want to hang with others in your new vaguely slapdash home. You live here now.


II. You'll pry my room out of my cold dead hands!

They're going to try to push for it, but aren't going to force you. They do need to know where you are, especially the Rifters... who keep being forgotten just this side of entirely. Your location information is going to be taken down, and they'll continue to come visit you. This can be handwaved, or we can thread it out!

[If you'd like your poor sick bb to be dragged out kicking and screaming, go ahead and indicate that in your tag. Alternately, send me a line @ shaestorms and we can figure out how to pry you loose together. Once you're there, throw a tag to whine about it if you like!]

Comments

[castintoflames]

Just what a sick Man needs! A sword. Maedhros shakes himself, but it is so hard to not hear the sea...

Or to see the distant shores of Aman...receding...

"Only to be united by water and flame."

He rests a hand on top of Elros's head. This is real. Focus on this.

[tar_minyatur]

Elros nudges against the hand but his hands don't stop moving, the ceaseless rasp of the whetstone on the blade.

"I want him here. But at the same time, I don't. He's going to be so mad at me..."

[castintoflames]

His thumb makes soothing motions against Elros's scalp. Shhh, be calm. Listen to the waves that totally do not exist.

"Brothers are more often than not irritated at one another. Elrond has an understanding heart and he cares for you."

[tar_minyatur]

Aranruth is going to be the sharpest sword of all time at this rate. That or he's going to wear away the blade

"He made me promise. Not to die before my time..."

[castintoflames]

"See? That is well." Maedhros reaches down to stop the ceaseless motion, "We don't need swords."

[tar_minyatur]

Elros allows the stop but his hands twitch, restlessly.


"And if I die here? Who's going to tell him? Who's going to look after my people?"

[castintoflames]

"You will not." he grasps those hands, feeling the fever and knowing it is like his own, "If you do... Elros... I will follow. I will find a way to bring us back."

[tar_minyatur]

"I wonder if I will get to see the Halls on my way through?" He murmurs, and he frowns at Maedhros.

"Don't you dare. You'll kill Maglor if you leave him now."

[castintoflames]

"I think that likely. We belong on Arda and the Halls are connected to it." he returns the look, solemn, "He will follow too. The pair of us will bring you back."

[tar_minyatur]

"Going to sing for Namo then, are you?" He raises an eyebrow at him.

[castintoflames]

"If I must." he pulls Elros into the circle of his arms, "I cannot say that will help your case..."

[tar_minyatur]

"No." Elros smirks. "Best you get Maglor to do that. You can dance, instead."

[castintoflames]

"Have you seen me try to dance?" he wrinkles his nose, "I have two left feet!"

[tar_minyatur]

Elros leans against him, using him as a ground.

"Surely you are not telling me that the Prince you were did not learn how to dance?"

[castintoflames]

He has no complaints! Maedhros likes having him this close.

"I did learn, but not well. My height was always an issue; there were few partners who matched me well."

[tar_minyatur]

"You never taught me?"

He grins up at him.

"I'm quite tall, these days."

[castintoflames]

"I didn't know you wanted to learn?" he sighs in defeat and nudges their foreheads together, "You are nearly the perfect height now that you mention it."

[tar_minyatur]

"Well, a king has to know how to dance... "

He grins at relaxes visibly at the touch.

"Is that a yes?"

[castintoflames]

"That is true. I would not like for you to be embarrassed." he speaks gently, soothingly, "If you wish. But first you must heal."

[tar_minyatur]

"You're a fine one to talk." Elros snorts at him and pushes a little healing at him, stubbornly.

[castintoflames]

"My endurance is greater -" he huffs and gives his head a firm shake, "Elros, stop taxing yourself."

[tar_minyatur]

"You look worse." Elros argues, but he's too tired to actually keep it up, and only slumps against him.

"I hate being sick."

[castintoflames]

"How kind." the sarcasm is heavy in his tone, but he embraces Elros nonetheless, "I hate you being sick." and not just because his dear foster-son is a little grumpy.

It hurts to see one of his stars hurt or ill. He wishes he could take it all on himself instead.

[tar_minyatur]

"Well you do." Elros grumbles, curling against him.

"Elves aren't meant to get ill."

[castintoflames]

"Then why are you cuddling with me?" Maedhros pouts; it doesn't seem his vanity is completely dead, "No, we're not. Unless we are poisoned."