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

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!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Having no real room to call his own, he had little choice but to be locked away. He felt the walls of the room pressing in around him, making him gasp for breath, and he sought refuge near a window. He had brought the supplies needed to make arrows, and brought the flute Ellana had given him. He felt no desire to play, but having it near him made him feel at ease a bit.

He sat, tired beyond imagining, but he couldn't sit still. He began fletching arrow after arrow. He had accepted his death, as much as one could. But he would leave those around him as prepared and equipped as he could. A little of himself could still remain and be of use.