[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]

"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."