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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.
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.

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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.
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"He's in a lot of pain. I don't like the idea of just leaving him to deal with it alone." If he could take any of it onto himself, he would. Merrick would be angry at him for such a thing, but at least he wouldn't be forced to deal with all of it alone.
Cyril watches the way that Sam checks Merrick, waiting to see if Sam has any news.
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After a few moments Sam sighs, bringing a hand up to rub at his face at the way Cyril is looking at him. "He still has a very high fever. We need to make sure he's being cooled down safely. He's sweating a lot so we should wipe him down, and get fresh clothes and bed clothes."
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"Show me what to do," he says. "I'll make sure it gets done."
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Cyril needed to get up and move, and eat something first. For a moment Sam stares, trying to figure out a way to say it that wouldn't have Cyril getting upset at him further. "If you could get a clean set of his clothes and another rag."
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Getting a new pair of clothes and rags is simple as well. His body aches a bit as he moves it because he's been in one spot for too long. It feels good to stretch for a bit.
He brings the clothes back over to Sam and looks up at him. "Should we change him?" he asks. He frowns a bit. He knows that Merrick wouldn't really want someone to see him exposed over and over. Sam had already seen him once, but seeing him again might be too much. "Or maybe I can and then you can help with the cloths?"
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"He needs to be wiped down, cleaned up from all the sweat he's been building up. You're going to do that?" Alone? Cyril doing something would help with how inactive he's been, but he doesn't look all that steady himself.
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He wipes Merrick down carefully and then works to get him back into the new clothes. "Okay," he tells Sam. He also sits down on the edge of the bed and bows his head to catch his breath.
"What else?"
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"We need to change the bed clothes. Normally I'd suggest rolling him, but moving around too much might be uncomfortable at the moment. We could pick him up and change the sheets quickly," he offers, leaning against the back of the chair, watching Cyril trying to catch his breath.
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Picking Merrick up is hardly a chore though he's still careful on how he holds Merrick. "Alright, all set for you."
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Once the sheets are down, Sam carefully places Merrick back on it, making sure not to jostle him too much during the process. "That should probably help a little bit. Have you been able to get him to drink anything?"
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Seeing as he hadn't bitten his tongue, Merrick isn't in danger there, which was one good thing for the most part.
"Cyril don't hold him down. Trying to force him will only end up with one of you hurt. Help me roll him over on his side then make sure he doesn't fall off the bed."
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He watches Merrick continue to thrash and pays attention to anything else that Sam might tell him to do.
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"It's over. We can let him lay back down. Has he done this before now?"