[open]

[onlyhymns]

WHO: Cade, anyone researching the blue flu
WHAT: A Templar took a lyrium dose that acted normally, leaving him unimpaired for a full day.
WHEN: Phase Four
WHERE: the infirmary
NOTES: Medical stuff probably

Cade has been a total disaster since the onset of the lyrium affliction, cycling in and out from very brief periods of lucidity to forgetting his own name. Being of the anxious and sensitive persuasion, he's been one of the worst cases in the Templars, but one day, for whatever reason, that suddenly stops.
It's not unusual for him to 'come back' for a while after being dosed with lyrium, but Cade has been back for over an hour now, and finds that he wants to be up and about, making himself useful, eating normally and trying not to panic the usual amount for someone with a mind like his.

Toward the end of the day, he starts to slip again.

Comments

[justice_is_blond]

It's hard to miss Cade suddenly seeming to be better. Cade. Anders sees it briefly in the usual time period... but then the former Templar is trying to help out and it sinks in that Cade is feeling better.

After the requisite time of creepy staring, Anders gets up and tentatively approaches the guy. Normally he'd dismiss the thought of going and talking to Cade as a stupid one, but everyone's busy and maybe there's somehow been a crack in all of this mess.

"Cade? May I speak with you?"

[onlyhymns]

Though feeling better and with his wits about him, Cade is still weak from the illness and in no position to be starting-- or finishing, for that matter-- trouble. As much as he loathes Anders, he's not going to cause a scene here in the infirmary for everyone to see and possibly even be affected by.

Instead he nods, a bit gruffly, but at least he's agreeing.

[justice_is_blond]

There's a nod, at least. It's something. Anders tilts his head to indicate a pair of chairs over to the side and heads over himself, waiting for the guy to take a seat.

"You seem to be feeling better than most of the rest. I'd like to know what's changed to make this happen so that maybe we can get closer to a cure." He needs to be careful here but he's so worn down. The walls are constantly closing in, he'd had a prolonged phylactery episode earlier, and he just needs an end to this.

"And all we've found that helps tell us anything so far is taking blood and putting it under a microscope, something designed to look at very small things."

[onlyhymns]

Cade still has a jittery quality about him, no doubt from spending so many days insensible and panicked. He looks at his knuckles, noticing for the first time that they're scarred, frowning at them while Anders speaks. He shivers.

"You want to take my blood," he guesses, barely able to force his gaze to meet Anders', matching his claustrophobic unease. The thought makes him feel ill; he's had blood taken by a mage before, albeit not through a needle.

[justice_is_blond]

"I do," he says quietly. Cade's gaze is on his knuckles for a moment there, and Anders wonders if the Templar remembers their last meeting. He doesn't know if memory would be good or bad, here.

"It would be a small amount, and you can watch every step of the way." The offer rankles, letting even a former Templar watch him suspiciously twists his stomach, but he has Rifter friends and one Templar friend and Cade likely won't even briefly consider this otherwise.

[onlyhymns]

It's safe to say he doesn't. Based on Cade's demeanor with him now, Anders is the person he's always known him to be, aka someone with whom he doesn't want to interact at all if he can help it.

"Fine," Cade concedes with a sigh, letting his face rest in his hands, "but I don't want a mage to do it." He's been through, is still going through, a lot. Ramping up his anxiety isn't going to help anyone.

[justice_is_blond]

Anders gives him a look of disgust, shaking his head and looking around at where... mages are working hard on finding a cure.

"Right. We should do extra work to find someone who wasn't born a certain way." Another shake of his head and he's getting up. "Find someone you're comfortable with, because I've no doubt you've dozens of other restrictions and I don't have time to play games while my people are working their asses off to save yours."

[onlyhymns]

Feeling like one just climbed out of a pit full of dragons and are about to be pushed back into it does something to a person's mood, and the look Cade gives Anders is downright homicidal.
Fortunately, he's tired, and actually has his wits about him for once, and the thought of even getting out of the chair, let alone smacking this smarmy piece of shit in the mouth, is too much to consider. He watches him walk away, shaking with exhaustion and now rage.

[aestivation]

"Excuse me," It's even — though that hardly bears repeating — "Is all well?"

To Anders, though the glance he casts Cade is as much invitation to speak as any.

Thranduil's set few lines in the sand, but this is one he knows well. So it's not for nothing that he's been on his way to the Infirmary, and not for nothing that talk of blood's caught his ear. It's an inescapable piece of the plague before them,

And it's something to be watched for, all the same.

[justice_is_blond]

"He's seemingly a little better," Anders says, not looking at the 'him' in question as he pages through the notebook he's grabbed, "and while that could lead to information that could help his people and the Rifters, he's refused to allow any of our people take blood to look at under the microscope. Which is great, as we're the ones working ourselves to exhaustion for his."

[onlyhymns]

Sitting with his face in his hands, Cade can't help but acknowledge the irony of being lucid for a day only to feel, as always, like he's fucked up irreversibly based on one small action. He looks up at Casimir when he hears a voice, and, noting the sunburst on his forehead, relaxes only slightly.

"I'll do it," he says, in a tone he hopes is too quiet for Anders to hear, "but I don't want it to be a mage." Rather than conspiratorial, his tone is almost desperate; just let this be solved in a way that he can be sure he won't hurt anyone, or be hurt himself.

[aestivation]

His people, our people,

"You have been working," He agrees. "Perhaps you should take a break."

Others tire so terribly quickly. Time away might aid his judgment, and better to have a healer wandering about the grounds than a sick man leave the infirmary.

"If there are matters that require your immediate attention, you'll be informed." There's no disrespect to the dismissal, but its purpose is as evident as any; if he's unused to issuing orders, Casimir's at least not troubled for it. He stands back from the bedside, folds his hands in place. "Warden Anders says you've been better. Could you describe how you've been feeling?"

Better to redirect, for the moment, from the matter of blood. That it's yielded results elsewhere's clear; so's Cade's evident discomfort. Uncomfortable templars are —

— Not preferable, when you need work done.

[justice_is_blond]

He ignores Cade's repetition of what Anders just said, and looks at Casimir, meeting his eyes before shaking his head and jerking his thumb at a more distant desk. If the man wants to take this on, he can go for it.

"I'll be over there. I don't really think there's time for a break right now." There's not going to be anything really restful for as long as they're locked in the Gallows and he's powerless in regard to his phylactery. Work can distract a little, at least.

With that, he's heading off.

[onlyhymns]

Cade sits tense and silent until Anders takes his leave, watching him with bloodshot eyes. Then he calms, but only a little, rubbing his temple. He wants to go home, and is actually glad to remember that 'home' is the Inquisition barracks on the docks. He never thought he'd want to go there.

"I... I don't quite know," he admits, "but it seems like I've been... sleeping, or... or forgetting the last few days, or..." Weeks. He's lost weeks, but doesn't want to accept that. "I don't know what's real," he admits, clasping his hands nervously, "I think I can remember, though. Different things. And. ...if I'm the only one who's... who's better, and I can help, I will." He's so tired, and his fear is a constant undercurrent, but one need never worry that a Tranquil will take something the wrong way.

[aestivation]

He doesn't contest the retreat. It's far enough, for now, to afford them all some space. Casimir can see him out when this conversation's finished; there's no time to afford someone berating a patient (least of all a dangerous one), and the man clearly isn't well.

When you tire, Sestina had told him once, knife in hand. Even you make mistakes.

"That's good of you," To help. "The others are not themselves. When they take lyrium, they're better — but only briefly. It goes again."

Like the old ones, or the starved ones. There'd been a little starving for everyone, in Hasmal. There may be more, if this business of melting crates continues.

"When was the last that you remember having lyrium?" Placidly. "It doesn't matter whether it was real."

There will be records to check for that.

[onlyhymns]

Cade's eyes go distant as he tries to remember. This is useless out of context.
"...I..." he murmurs, "...I don't know how much time has passed." It's all been an awful sweaty blur; how typical that someone hit so hard by the lyrium's cycling is the only one who can give any answers.

Thinking hard, he realizes: "Colin." He glances up at Casimir, then around at the room. "He gave us some. ...I don't know when." But that's the last time he remembers it happening.

[aestivation]

"That's alright. Colin," He confirms. One of the assistants, no doubt, if not one due Research. Following up on it might get Anders out of the room for a time. Whoever he is, he's more like to have a noticed a change than a man in the grips of plague. "Thank you. I don't believe we've been introduced,"

He could look for the papers, or ask Anders. Better to have a name from him direct. Sometimes they forget, a symptom to check against.

"I'm Casimir."