[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

location notes for ii, handwaved

[limier]

[ on hiatus and not up for new threads right now, but if you need anything feel free hmu on plurk or discord ♥ thanks for organizing this! ]

Wren’s in her rooms, and is insistent upon remaining there.

Runners are welcome to leave supplies or check in at a polite distance, but any direct assistance in taking lyrium (or the suggestion that she do so more often) will be rebuffed. If pressed to explain, she’ll stare at whoever’s there like they’re an idiot, and then directly past them at some people who aren’t there at all.

Those she knows and has prior CR with can push their luck further, but anyone who overstays or tries to forcibly move her will have an enormous, abruptly very unhappy mabari to deal with.

handwaved option ii

[youwonscience]

Cosima prefers to stay in her room, but has no objection to them adding her to the visit list. She'll also stop by proactively for regular check-ins at whatever frequency requested.

I. (but this is not fine)

[castintoflames]

He understands the reasoning behind being quarantined; it is a decision he would have made as a leader. But that doesn't mean he is comfortable with it. Maedhros is stiff and if his face wasn't blue, he would be completely devoid of color.

Care to help the tall, awkward Elf calm down? He is not as unpleasant as he was during Phase I, at least. The illness has humbled him; it has brought him to his knees a couple of times. In a word, he feels wretched.

"To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away, the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!"

Elros isn't the only one singing of the sea, it seems.

[tar_minyatur]

He curls at Maedhros' feet, hands busy sharpening a sword that really doesn't need to be sharpened.

"Grey are the sails of the ships that leave
From the havens of the elves
Across the Western Sea
White are the hulls of my people's ships
Looking back east towards them
Sharp are the songs of the gulls that cry
Echoing the gap between us
Long will we tarry there
My brother and I
On opposite sides of the sea"

II

[tar_minyatur]

Elros understands the necessity, but by now the Sea-longing thrums in his blood, making him restless and gloomy. He'll come quietly and not fuss.

But he can't bring himself to rest

[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.

[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..."

[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."

[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.

[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]

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.

[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."

handwaved option ii

[tagartist]

Phase III symptoms make Chloe even less likely to cooperate than usual, but with enough badgering from the few people she's talked to on friendly terms (when they can remember her), she'd at least come in for a check-in, and then try and use being forgotten about to her advantage to just... avoid it.

[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?"