faderift | (no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

Cyril opens his hand a bit and gestures at Merrick. It's an invitation for Bruce to look at him if he wants to. "If you think you can do anything to help..." he says.

Then, after a moment, "If you aren't here on work, does that mean that you're a friend?"

Bruce isn't entirely sure if he could do anything, to be perfectly honest, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't try. Just as with everyone else he wished the best for Merrick and hoped that he would recover soon.

"I'll do what I can," he says, giving the elf a smile before he works on pouring out a cup of tea from the tray that he had brought in. There's a brief pause at the question, but Bruce quickly lets out a soft, amused sound and shakes his head.

"I don't think 'friend' might be the best term for it." He turns around as he says that in order to pass the tea he had poured out to the elf, holding it out in front of him for the elf to take if he wanted it. "But I've met him on several occasions. Talked a little, too." For as much 'talking' as Merrick was prone to do.

Cyril takes it but doesn't drink. Mostly he just holds the warmth in his hands. "For Merrick that is pretty friendly," he points out.

There's a wry smile from Bruce at that response, and he lets out a soft, amused sound from the back of his throat.

"I figured as much," he returns, then gestures to the cup of tea that the elf is holding. "You should drink that. It'll help with the exhaustion."

After a moment, he sips at the tea and then sighs as it's warmth washes over him. "Thank you," he says. "It's very strange how many people have been giving me food. I'm Dalish. We usually have to fend for ourselves."

"You've been here a while," Bruce says in response, although they both were well aware that 'a while' was probably putting it lightly. "It won't help anybody if you fall sick while taking care of him."

And it didn't matter that they were Dalish - now under the banner of the Inquisition they were all the same. They were all doing their best for the same cause, and there was no reason why he should be bothered about where they came from.

"Maybe then I can get handsome men such as yourself to fuss after me though," he responds. The flirting is almost automatic but it lacks a lot of the heat he would have had normally and he feels guilty for it because Merrick is still there, still suffering.

Bruce blinks at the words, quite taken aback by them, but its easy enough to listen that the elf doesn't really mean anything by it. A reflex, perhaps, a way to cope with the current situation.

He must truly care for Merrick.

"I'm sure there are many that would care for you too," he says instead, managing a small smile.

Cyril looks up at him and focuses on Bruce for a moment before he shrugs. "Merrick should be awake by then, hopefully. He can return the favor." It's really just wishful thinking on his part. He wants his brother awake soon.

"He'll be awake," Bruce assures him the best he can, his smile widening just a little, doing his best to be as encouraging as possible. "He's a very resilient individual. I'm sure he'll be able to come out of this."

They just needed to wait.

Cyril nods at that. "I know," he says. "But it's good to hear others say it. Sometimes I might think he's capable of the impossible."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's the case." Merrick did seem like the kind of elf who would go out to do something just to prove the contrary. "You may never know, he might just wake up when you least expect it."

"That's why I'm staying here," Cyril explains. "I just know if I go somewhere that will be when he does it, just to keep me on my toes."

That certainly made sense to Bruce. He have a small nod, and attempts his encouraging smile once more. He doesn't know how effective it is but as long as it can help even a little, that was the best he could ask for.

"He'll be fine," he says once more. "By next month you won't even remember this. He'll be up and running before you know it."

"I seem to know it now," he says after a moment, but that's less about trying to deny what Bruce says and more an expression of the pain that he's experiencing.

"Is there anything I should be doing?"

"Just stay by him as much as you can." It's cliched, he knows, but it honestly is the best advice he could give right now. Herbs and magic and everything could heal the body, but healing the heart and the soul wasn't something that he could do. That was up to people like this elf, and the others that were close to Merrick. "As long as he has people to support him, he'll make it through."

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