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.

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Merrick manages to take in some more water. Some of the blood he'd drawn from his lip ends up on Metaari's fingers, but he isn't in a state to notice. He leans against Pel, breathing in the scent of her hair, slowly relaxing more and more.

It's enough that when he hears Cyril talking, he manages to level a glare at him.

He feels his heart flutter though, just a little. Had Metaari really done that?

"It was really cute," Pel agrees, smiling. Her hand flits down to Merrick's lip to heal where he bit himself. "You found yourself a pretty good one. I'll be watching."

Her smile tightens in Metaari's direction. Not threatening, but she definitely means what she said.

You both suck.

Metaari doesn't embarrass easily, but it's clear the light ribs in his direction get to him, if the slight discoloration of his cheeks is any indication. He glances away, stares at the far side of the room as though there was something particularly interesting on the wall.

"I hate both of you," he finally says, though there's a lightness to his voice all the same, a teasing tone. "I was just making sure Merrick kept his promise. A man's nothing without his word."

Metaari might be embarrassed but it was successful in getting everyone to think about something much more pleasant than Merrick's poisoning.

"You don't hate me," he replied to Metaari's words, grinning a bit. "Just like Merrick doesn't hate me even though he's glaring like he could murder me."

He focuses on Merrick then, and offers his brother a small smile. "We can talk more about it later. I'll share all the details."