(no subject)

[samahl]

WHO: Cyril and OPEN.
WHAT: Merrick is suffering from the posion. This is the place for people to worry about him.
WHEN: During the Crow Plot
WHERE: Merrick and Cyril's room.
NOTES: Merrick has been poisoned, so there's that. Also; talk of grief and death as that brings back bad memories for Clan Ashara, and Cyril's inability to self-care.

Sam had brought Merrick in from the cold. The healers had done what they could. Now all that was left was to wait for the poison to make it's way through Merrick's body.

They knew by now that Zevran was missing. There was this strange ache in Cyril's chest when he thought about that, strong enough that he could notice it over the overpowering anxiety he felt about Merrick. He was aware they were coming up with a plan to get Zevran back, but most of that talk wasn't sticking when Cyril heard it.

It wasn't that he didn't care about the rescue. He cared a great deal about what happened to Zevran, it was that any new information just felt jumbled up in Cyril's head. He could only really focus on the way that Merrick looked. He was in pain, everyone could see that, but he couldn't wake or break free from it.

Cyril was stuck to the side of their shared bed. He sat in a chair with his legs folded up towards his body. He had reached out one of his hands clasped it over Merrick's. He wasn't planning on moving until his brother woke, not unless a healer needed the space by the bed. Nothing else really mattered to him. He didn't need to sleep, or eat, or do anything other than watch and wait.

Anyone who saw him could see that his body was very tense and stiff. He looked like someone who was just on the edge of a flight or fight reaction. His eyes were wide and staring down at the bed. Merrick's body was sweating and suffering. It reminded Cyril too much like how members of his Clan described the plague victims of past. He had no memories of that time, other than a dim impression of his mother's last moments, but it was enough to leave him feeling anxious and devastated.

Comments

[metaari]

He had been away when it happened, on a hunting and gathering trip with a few others to restock some of the dwindling food supplies. There were so many soldiers now a few extra trips had been necessary. But there was worry in the eyes of the people in the Hold as he walked through the camp, more than usual, and word of an attack and kidnapping reached his ears soon enough. Metaari was curious, mostly, but when he heard Merrick's name attached to it (poisoned, unconscious, is he going to make it?) his world narrows to a sharp focus.

Tired as he is he still very nearly runs through the camp, making a bee-line for the room he's staying in. It's unceremonious, the way he throws open the closed door, his gaze landing on the bed. "Merri--!"

His voice cuts off when he sees the form seated next to the bed and his urgency deflates from him. Of course someone else would be here, watching over him. But still the worry remains etched across his face even as he hesitates in the doorway. "Sorry. I'm-- I only just heard--" His words fail him and he just stops, his arms dropping down to his sides. Helpless. Useless. What can he do against poison?

[samahl]

Cyril jerks up when the large form comes crashing into the room. His hand automatically goes for a weapon, filled with the need to defend, but then he realizes who it is and watches the huge frame deflate.

"You don't have to apologize," he says, his voice is hoarse. Then, after a moment, "You're Metaari, aren't you?"

[metaari]

Metaari steps further into the room, letting the door fall closed behind him as he does. His feet are light against the floor, almost nonexistent, as though he fears any more sounds could disturb the healing process. His eyes fall to Merrick's face when he gets close enough to see him and he stops moving, swallowing thickly with a vague sort of nod at the question. "Yeah. Yeah, that's me."

But then it really pierces the fog quickly surrounding his mind and he blinks a few times, finally dragging his gaze away to really give Cyril a look. "How did-- scratch that. You are?"

[el_tybs]

There's a soft knock on the door before Sam pokes his head in, not at all surprised to see Cyril still perched on his chair next to the bed, though nonetheless bothered by the sight. Sighing, he enters, making sure to close the door and make as little noise as possible, a small basket in his hand.

Peering at the bed he can see that Merrick was still suffering, but unlike before it was easy to see that he was breathing, even if it was labored. Looking to Cyril, he lightly touches his shoulder with the tips of his fingers, trying to grab his attention without surprising him too much, since he looked rather out of it as well.

"Cyril."

[samahl]

Cyril looks up when he hears his name and is surprised to see Sam there. He hadn't heard him come in. "Sam?" he asks. "You came back?" He looks pretty out of it, exhausted but unwilling to close his eyes for longer than a couple seconds.

[el_tybs]

The question earns Cyril a rather odd look, brows furrowed, lips pulling down into a frown, and his eyes searching the Elf's face in a mixture of concern and unease. "Of course I came back. Why wouldn't I?"

As concerned as he is for Cyril, Sam makes a point in checking on Merrick first, hand reaching up to touch his forehead. It was good that he was no longer ice cold from being out in the snow for so long, but now he was burning up, a fever brought on probably from both the poison and cold. Sighing he puts the basket down and removes the cloth on Merrick's forehead, already warm and dry, and moves to wet it again with the cool water from the bucket.

"Have you been sitting in the chair this entire time?" he asks, putting the cloth back on Merrick's head.

[nadasharillen]

A soft knock on the door, and Nahariel will peek her head in--followed by the rest of her. She's carrying a small loaf of fresh brown bread and a bowl of simple rabbit stew. She didn't know what had happened, only that there was a hubbub, and eventually she had emerged blinking from Sina's small garden tent and asked Sam what had happened.

She didn't know Merrick, but she knew enough of Clan Ashara by now to be concerned for him simply by virtue of association. And, of course, for his caretaker.

If she did what she could for them, perhaps she'd forget to worry for Zevran.

"For the first three days I was sitting with Siuona," she said quietly, "I didn't eat unless Adelaide or one of her students made me."

She had been irritated by having to think about anything besides her clansister, but... eating had given her the energy to better watch over Sina. And so she'd come.

She'll sit crosslegged on the floor beside the bed and tear chunks of bread, setting them in the stew to soak up the meaty broth. After there are enough to cover the top of the bowl, she'll set the remaining loaf in her lap, and lift the bowl towards Cyril, holding it in such a place where he's able to eat easily with one hand, not requiring him to let go of Merrick's hand for even a moment.

[samahl]

At first it's not sure that Cyril heard her, but then he reaches out and takes the bread. "Ma serannas," he mutters softly before finally taking his eyes off his brother's form to look at the food.

"You're Nahariel, aren't you?" he asks, trying to figure out who this stranger is. They haven't met, but he knows the names of several of the other Dalish here, and she had mentioned Sina. He was assuming they were from the same Clan.

As she answers, he takes a bite of the food and admittedly feels much better for it.

[nadasharillen]

"I am," she replies. "A hunter, from Sina's clan."

She says little else, content to continue to hold up the bowl within easy reach and offer support with her presence. Nahariel wanted to ask after Merrick, but also remembered how the unending inquiries--to which she'd had to answer 'unchanged, unchanged, unchanged' again and again--had nibbled away at her. She was here, that was proof enough of care. If Cyril wanted to talk about it, he could.

look, what a great time to finally meet Cy

[amygdalae]

Bruce had heard the gist of what happened from Samouel. News of Zevran's disappearance had reached him too, of course, and as much as Bruce wanted to help he knew that staying in Skyhold was probably the best course of action. Besides - Detlef was with them, and having a healer will be better than a surgeon who wasn't going to be able to magic things better.

This, though, he could at least still do. With a tray of items in hand Bruce makes his way to where Merrick is, knocking softly at the door and speaking just as quietly. "Hello? May I come in?"

yeees Bruce <3

[samahl]

Cyril looks up at the sound and then nods. "Yes," he says. The human the voice is attached to is very attractive and if Cyril had been in any other mindset he would have taken note of that. As it is, he only really cares about what the human has to offer.

"Are you a healer?"

:>

[amygdalae]

The white-haired elf in the room with the unconcious Merrick is one that Bruce has seen around a few times but never really talked with. But judging from his weary state and the worry visible on his face, he must be somebody close to Merrick. Another person from Clan Ashara? More than likely.

"A surgeon," he clarifies, just so not to cause any confusion. Bruce steps into the room with his tray, quietly moving to set it down at the bedside table. After he's done that he straightens back up and glances at the unfamiliar elf, continuing to speak. "But I'm not here on business. Unless you need me to look at something...?"

He certainly wouldn't mind doing it - he had heard that the poison Merrick had been afflicted with was rather bad. If he could help in anyway, Bruce would be more than willing to do it.

[arlathvhen]

Beleth doesn't bother to knock, but she doesn't slam in, either. She just shows up, looking haggard, and makes a beeline for Merrick. Her fingers ghost over his face gently, then through his hair, touching and feeling to make sure that he's still there, with them. It's terrifying to see him like this, prone and fragile. She kneels down next to the bed, fingers slipping to his hand, gripping it tightly.

"We promised we'd stick together," She whispers to Merrick, eyes intent on his face. Can he hear? It doesn't matter. "Don't break that promise, Merrick, or I won't forgive you."

She pauses for a few moments, staring at him, before she turns to Cyril. "We're going after Zevran. I am. So are others. We're going to be leaving soon, but--I wanted to tell you. And I wanted to see him." Another pause, taking slow breaths. "We're going to find who did this. I'll find them. No matter what."

[samahl]

Cyril lets her have her moment with Merrick. He even pulls back a bit to give her more space. She's entitled to it and he trusts her. More than that, maybe she'll say something that will reach Merrick and give him some strength to get through this.

He watches Merrick carefully to see if there is any change in him and then focuses on Beleth when she speaks. He feels himself relax just a hair at talk that they're rescuing Zevran. He might not remember the details if she told him them but it matters that Zevran isn't going to be left to whoever has done this.

"Make them pay, lethallan," he says, very serious with this charge.

[arlathvhen]

Her fingers continue to brush against Merrick. He's warm but he's too warm. Fevered. It strikes an old memory of childhood, nearly two decades ago, but even as she remembers the too-hot bodies in the cots, the bodies that would go from burning hot to cold, she wills herself to put it out of her mind. Not Merrick. He's a fighter. He's their best fighter.

"I will." Beleth's voice is quiet but firm, intent. She turns back to Cyril, grim as the charge that she accepts. "Everyone who contributed to this will die, even if I have to do it with my own hands." She's done it before. For Merrick? She'd do it again.

"But you have to keep a promise too, Cyril." One hand still on Merrick, as though he might take a turn for a worse if she can't feel him. "Protect him while I'm gone. Keep him safe. And for the sake of all the Creators, Cyril, don't neglect yourself, either. If I come back to find Merrick healed and you on bedrest because you didn't eat, I won't be happy."

[the_effect_she_has]

Katniss is utterly useless at sick-beds. She's got absolutely no bedside manner, she's typically tense at the sight of the blood of others and honestly she tends to be pestimistic about such things. Call it too much time spent within healing tents with Prim. Prim was the one who was good at these sorts of things, and Katniss wished her sister was here.

But it was Merrick.

And Merrick was important, just as Zevran was important. So she went to the kitchen, put together a tray, and went to knock on the door waiting for Cyril to answer. When he did, she offered him the tray.

"I'm Katniss." Is her simple greeting. "I brought you food -- and I came to see if I could figure out what kind of poison it is, so we can make an antidote."

[samahl]

Cyril has heard of Katniss and normally he would really enjoy meeting her. For now, he just gives her a slight nod of acknowledgment. "Cyril," he says, introducing himself. His eyes are still on Merrick.

But then she mentions she's working on the antidote and that causes him to look up at her, giving her his completely attention. "What do you need to know?"

[the_effect_she_has]

She goes to put the tray down on a table next to him, looking back over to Merrick, her jaw tightening as she moved to the other side of his bed. "Hello, Cyril. Tell me what his symptoms are, and what the healers have already done?"

[mythalenaste]

Pel periodically leaves to bring food back to Cyril. She eats like a bird herself, though, so she doesn't pressure him to eat more than he wants. Half of the time it's just been leaning against him and casting the occasional mild healing spell over that heart and blood, purifying what she can. About the only time she leaves his side is to visit Sina. When she returns, she is pale and drawn, and eventually she mentions why.

"I'm bracing myself to spend weeks at everyones' bedsides, like when the plague came." But no life matters more than the one here before them. She smooths over Merrick's hair. "He'll be fine, Cy. It just needs to work through him."

[samahl]

Pel can actually get him to eat with little fuss. He does it for her because he doesn't want to cause her to worry for him on top of everything else. The last thing he wants is to cause her more stress.

He frowns when she brings up the plague. "This can't be easy for you," he says. "It has to bring back back memories. Is there anything I can do for you?"

[mythalenaste]

"Now, don't even think like that." Pel hooks an arm around Cyril and pulls him into a hug. "It's not easy for anyone, Cy. You're not suffering any less than I am. You just..."

Something gives, around her heart, and she finds herself planting a kiss on his temple.

"You're going to be all right. All of us will be. And knowing that, accepting that, doesn't mean you love him less. Punishing yourself doesn't mean you love him more. Standing up and getting yourself a glass of water doesn't mean you've abandoned him for the time it took you. Taking care of yourself during this time isn't self-indulgence. It's what will give you the strength to get through these days."

MERRICK WAKES UP

[dalishious]

It's barely morning when Merrick finds his eyes flying open, a sudden gasp of air filling his lungs. It's quiet, his movement barely noticeable.

He realizes both his hands are being held.

Everything is surreal, from the sensation prickling through his body to the eerie stillness of the room, the barest hint of morning light filtering in-- And he's exhausted, like he's just fought a long and bloody battle, body chilled from sweat and aching. He needs--something.

Slowly, so slowly, he slips his hands free and sits up. It hurts. Where's his pipe? Better yet--where's his flask? He rummages around a bit, but finds he can barely move his body correctly. It's like dead weight, and he almost falls out of bed, groaning and mumbling unintelligibly.

[metaari]

He's actually managed to catch some sleep; it happens occasionally, not often, and the circles under his eyes are proof of all of the nights that he's stayed awake. But it's the sensation of warmth leaving his hand that causes him to jerk awake and he sits up in his chair, groaning a bit at the tightness in his muscles from his sleeping position.

And then he sees what woke him up, and his eyes go wide.

"Merrick!" There's joy in his voice, surprise and delight and he's just so happy to see him. He very nearly surges forward and wraps him up in a hug but he manages to hold himself back. Instead he leans in and helps him sit back up in the bed, his hands steadying him. "Don't move too much. You've-- You're awake."

Bout time

[el_tybs]

It is much later that Sam hears news that Merrick has finally woken up. He doesn't show up immediately after hearing about it, figuring that he probably would be in the way or perhaps unwelcome what with Cyril probably flying off the walls that his brother was awake.

When he does show up he brings the usual basket of food and waits patiently at the entrance, knocking lightly to see if he would be able to visit.

LATER ON.......after she gets back from antiva

[arlathvhen]

Almost as soon as they get back to Skyhold, Beleth makes for Merrick's room. She should probably wait until she's managed to sleep, or bathe, or look kind of like a person, and less like an elf-shaped pile of weariness, but they tell her that he's awake, and she has to go.

She bothers to knock on the door and wait exactly two seconds before she bursts in anyway, and stares at Merrick. There's a long pause, with her just staring at him. Then she crosses the distance to his bed and throws her arms around him. He is given first a hard kiss, then a tight hug, then she buries her face in his neck, sniffling.

"I was so scared I was going to lose you." She whispered to Merrick, holding onto him for dear life. "I can't do that. I can't lose you."