[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

[utulien_aure]

Well, that won't do. It won't do at all.

Fingon puts down his harp and pulls Maedhros' head into his lap without a thought for any onlookers. After a few moments stroking his cousin's hair, he begins to hum an old song, one he has rarely sung since they arrived in Middle Earth.

But Maedhros should remember the song well enough. In Fingon's voice, this one is always, always, meant for him.

Light of the world poured into us,
true mirror of the hidden fire,
we lift our voices loud in praise,
our hearts to hope...

[OOC: song blatantly stolen from thearrogantemu's "And What Happened After."]

[castintoflames]

There is no hesitation. Maedhros rests his cheek against Fingon's thigh, curling his arms and his legs so that he fits neatly at his cousin's side. His eyes are soon half-lidded and his muscles are far less tense.

Quarantine disappears and they are on Aman again, free of pain and worry. He hums in his throat, smiling softly.

"Do you hear the waves?"

[utulien_aure]

"Sometimes," is Fingon's quiet reply.

Had he lived longer, had the wounds to his soul festered and poisoned all his other joys, then Fingon supposes the sea-calling would sound more often in his ears. As it did in Maedhros', in Maglor's, in others that he had seen.

(He'd wondered about Turgon, sometimes, in the days when his brother had dwelt in Nevrast upon the shores of the sea. But Turgon had gone inland, to wherever exactly his Ondolinde was, so perhaps that had just been grief speaking.)

But there is- was- so much to be done in Hithlum, and a world beyond it that Fingon had always wanted to see. A longing for the future had drowned out his wish for the past.

But now? He isn't sure.

"Can you?"

[castintoflames]

"Mm yes." he rests a hand on Fingon's leg, "The waves roll against the shore, beckoning...beckoning..." his fingers stretch out as if he can touch them, "And the sky is so blue. The breeze is warm and it catches in your braids. I can see the gold glittering. We will board the ship soon, Finno. Nothing will hurt when we are home."

Unfortunately, along with seeing the waves, he also feels his old scars, throbbing...aching...

"Maybe my hand will come back..."

[utulien_aure]

Home. But which home? The home of his birth, still beloved but left behind. The home he has chosen, which he cannot save.

There's only one real answer, though, isn't there? He catches Maedhros' right hand, pulling it up to kiss the knuckles.

"I am home, silly. I am with you.

[castintoflames]

His eyes open and he flexes the fingers of his...right hand? The softness of Fingon's lips leaves his skin tingling and he frowns, confused.

"Did you bring it back to me?"

That seems to satisfy him and he smiles, touching Fingon's cheek and hair as he rolls to lay on his back.

[utulien_aure]

"You've had it back for some time, Russa." I would have if I could, he adds mentally, as he shifts to make Maedhros comfortable.

"Rest, now. You are safe in my arms, and you will be well soon."

[castintoflames]

He is sweating blue - a worrying sign surely - but he looks at peace for the moment. His hand falls to rest on his chest and he gazes at Fingon for as long as he can keep his eyes open.

"We should go swimming or climb a tree." he chuckles weakly, "Maybe we can find Eagles if we look hard enough."

[utulien_aure]

It makes Fingon sick to see his cousin like that- but he is tired too, and he does not know how to make this better.

"Perhaps we will. I'd like to fly on an Eagle again."

[castintoflames]

"Me too. Their feathers were so soft." he murmurs, his body completely limp and relaxed, "I would find you a young one...and a nightingale for Kano..."

[utulien_aure]

"And what for yourself?" Fingon cannot resist asking.

"Would you like a bird of your own, Russandol?"

[castintoflames]

"Kano said I am more like a bear." he wraps an arm loosely around Fingon's waist, "But...maybe a hawk? What do you think?"

[utulien_aure]

"I like the idea of you with wings," he murmurs soothingly. "Then you could fly free whenever you wished."

[castintoflames]

"Am I worthy? Wings suit you better." he tilts his head, "If you choose to stay close to me, I will protect you on the ground."

[utulien_aure]

"Is 'being worthy' the point of this game? Don't focus on that; tell me whether it feels right."

[castintoflames]

Challenge accepted. Maedhros closes his eyes and imagines the sky...and wings... He could fly to those he loves; protect them with his talons.

"I would like wings."

[utulien_aure]

Fingon gives him a small smile at that. "Then wings you should have. Ones as striking as your hair, and as strong as your arms."

[castintoflames]

"I have heard that some birds of prey mate in midair." he chuckles, arching a brow, "Wouldn't that be interesting?"

[utulien_aure]

"I understand the eagle's mating dance involves tangling their claws and plummeting toward the ground."

It sounds alarmingly fun, now that he thinks of it....

[castintoflames]

"I know the feeling of plummeting." he watches Fingon lovingly, "Shall we try it if we are ever given wings?"

[utulien_aure]

"That we do," Fingon agrees warmly. "Why not?"

There's a window to the infirmary, actually, perhaps they should try- no. No, bad Fingon.

[castintoflames]

"Mm love, have you grown wings?" Maedhros teases, breathing a kiss over the other's ear, "I trust myself to be a safe place for you to fall, but I'd rather not break any bones."

[utulien_aure]

"Remember when we were young, though? And we'd go out to the cliffs to go swimming, and we could just leap off?" He closes his eyes, thinking back to those golden days.

"The rush of the leap, just before you hit the water...."

[castintoflames]

"If you landed just right, you barely made a ripple in the water." he watches Fingon, enjoying the soft beauty of his features as he remembered, "The birds would be crying overhead and for a moment, it felt like we were flying with them."

[utulien_aure]

"That it did," Fingon smiles absently, and looks away toward a window. For a moment his look sharps, as though he's considering something.

"Maybe... we should go. It's been so long...."