Leo Fitz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hypoxic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entranceway2016-05-09 12:08 am
hypoxic) wrote in entranceway2016-05-09 12:08 am
[Video | Action]
[Video]
[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.
He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]
Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.
I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...
[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]
Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.
[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]
[Action]
[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.
After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.
He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]
[Fitz had intended to send this as a private message to Dr. Foster, but a sudden onset of dizziness and blurred vision meant a text message was out of the question. Video would have to do. He'd remembered to set the privacy settings, hadn't he? Probably.
He addresses the network with a bleary expression, glassy eyes rolling up into his head until he blinks to train them back into place. His skin is an unhealthy pallor, ghastly white with a rash of dark splotches tainting the deep bags under his eyes.]
Doctor Foster... I, ah... The samples from the tunnels? I've been performing analyses, and I've reason to suspect that they aren't quite safe... They react terribly to human DNA samples. It's... I'm not a strong enough biologist to reach a proper conclusion, but some sort of degeneration appears to be taking place.
I also think it might be in our best interests to quarantine off the remaining sediment. The dust has been... It's...
[He grimaces and clenches his jaw, bowing his head for a long moment. He doesn't finish his thought, jumping over to a different one instead.]
Would advise against further reconnaissance trips to the tunnels. At least until we've had more time to study.
[He clumsily gropes along the keyboard next. One of those button presses probably manages to post it. Probably.]
[Action]
[Those who thought the darkness was limited to the subterranean levels of Wonderland might be dismayed by a certain scientist's decision to bring a cursed object onto a higher level. Fitz, believing fully that "cursed objects" were silly superstitions, saw nothing wrong with the idea of bringing it topside for testing and discovery. That was before the illness struck. Now, there's just pain. Pain and... some kind of faint melody. It's too distant to make out yet, a soft buzzing at the edge of his thoughts.
After leaving his message, he abandons the lab entirely, with the intent to return to his room on the fourth floor and sleep until the illness breaks on its own. He's underestimated the frequent onsets of mystical pain, though. He'll most likely be a huddled lump of a person curled against a hallway wall, shivering despite a critically high fever.
He'll still argue any "taint" or "curse" talk, though. It's probably nothing that antibiotics can't cure.]
video;
This can't be happening... Did you really bring things riddled with the taint above ground to try and study them?
[Here stands at least one Grey Warden grimacing into his camera.
Inwardly, he resists the urge to put his head in his hands at how unbelievably bad the people of Wonderland are at self-preservation. Though he'd been spreading what warnings about the darkspawn he could, he understands it isn't feasible to educate people on hundreds of years of history in a few days. Still, Anders would think "don't go into the dangerous caves with the contagious sickness" would be rather obvious in the long run.]
You poor bastard.
[The pitying observations slips out unthinkingly. He knows that pale, sickly look and it never ends well.]
video;
We brought underground samples from the tunnel system in the interest of uncovering a means of escape. This illness is a temporary setback.
[He dissolves into a fit of coughs soon afterward, though.]
no subject
[Anders could have told him a pale imitation of them conjured up in Wonderland's backyard definitely isn't going to get anyone anywhere. The only thing this accomplishes is spreading the taint on the surface more quickly. So thanks for that, Fitz. Well done.
Pointing out a man's mistakes while he's on the verge of becoming a ghoul is a bit crass, however. He releases a barely audible sigh instead.]
"Temporary," yes... [Hahaha... ha...] Do you have anyone with you? This'll get worse before it gets better, I'm afraid. It's called the Blight sickness.
[And it's fatal. But though the taint might kill him, Wonderland has the power to revive him. Maybe. Possibly.]
no subject
[Rubbish superstitions, the lost of them. It's just a means of making people too frightened to ask questions.]
How much worse? And in what ways? It might be beneficial to know what form these symptoms will take.
no subject
[Gold star for the attempt.
But should he explain what's about to happen? That there's no real remedy for the symptoms or for the disease? Anders is trying his best to be on the calm and compassionate side in all of this; the taint's already in his blood, that's clear just by looking at Fitz, but it seems callous to bluntly dash all hopes by forecasting his imminent death.
He feels for sorry for him. For everyone not from Thedas. If this event is the fruit of their collective memories, the Thedosians had brought this on them with no warning.]
It would be better if you weren't alone. Hallucinations and weakness can set it fast--someone should be there for when they do. I can come. I'm a healer and I have a certain immunity so I'm unable to contract it.
[But these others Fitz had mentioned worry him, too.]
Who else was with you and got near your samples? Someone should check on them as well. It spreads faster than you think.
no subject
If it's contagious as you say, then I'm best on my own. I've taken care of the samples as hazardous materials. They shouldn't be trouble to...
[He trails off, head drooping momentarily.]
...what was I...? Materials. Quarantined.
I'll be fine.
no subject
Only something did happen and you're not fine. You're ill, and trust me when I say it's not one a person can out-stubborn with soup and bed rest.
[Anders has on an expression that can only be described as the physical manifestation of "denial isn't just a river in Egypt, my friend" but he doesn't think Fitz is in much of a position to appreciate it.]
I can help you, I can help your colleagues. [It tastes like a lie in his mouth, but some lies are better than the truth, aren't they?] So save me the time of banging on doors and let one of us come to you, yes?
[Even if there's nothing to be done he can't imagine letting someone succumb to the taint alone. That's inhumane, even for Wonderland.]
no subject
[He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the urge to say something unkind. This superstitious gentleman is just trying to help in his own way. He's probably just taking it badly because he isn't feeling well and his patience is low. That must be it.]
What kind of help do you mean?
[Right now, people who know what they're talking about on the network seem to be pretty universally in favor of just telling him that he's going to die. It's not building up a lot of trust on his end.]
no subject
[Anders can appreciate a little enthusiasm in wanting to make the most of an event, but there's enthusiasm and then there's sheer hard-headedness. Fitz protecting his friends' names and insisting he has everything under control--that's the best joke Anders has heard all day!--falls into the second category.
But no one said people make the best decisions when they're slowly going out of their mind. He's not the one succumbing to the taint--he can afford to have patience. Or he's not succumbing to it as fast as Fitz is, anyway.]
My talent is in healing, as I said. It's not within my power to cure the taint, but I can manage the pain for a time. Since this came from my world, it's the least I can do.
no subject
[He sinks back in his chair, eyes wandering away from the device.There's a thrumming behind his eyelid that's increasingly more difficult to ignore.]
The people who know what this is all seem to believe that "managing the pain" is a euphemism for a mercy killing. I'm not quite suicidal at present.
[He mumbles to himself softly, looking elsewhere around his workstations.]
...should take some blood samples. See how rapidly it's spreading.
no subject
[It's because he's seen these symptoms before that Anders notices the man's drifting focus and recognizes it for what it is. They're wasting time, time Anders could either be spending helping Fitz or getting back to helping other oblivious treasure hunters.
But Anders can't blame him for his hesitation. He's not wrong. If the taint doesn't kill him in the later stages, Anders wouldn't hesitate to provide that mercy before the man could become a ghoul. A personal friend shouldn't have to bear that responsibility, but a stranger--a Thedosian partly responsible for this mess--can.
Blood samples, though? Anders suppresses a grimace.]
Please, for the love of the Maker, no blood. Do you want to spread it? Listen, I meant it just how it sounded--I can help. Without jumping at the chance to smother someone with a pillow. What's the room number?
no subject
[And the ringing isn't even terrible, honestly. There's a sweetness to it.]
Clinical examination of blood is hardly cause for an outbreak. I don't intend to go round smearing it on other people.
[And though he had no intention of giving this man a firm location, the question repeats at a time when his indignation was settled elsewhere; it slips out before he reins it back in.] Fourth, fifty-two... But you don't have to... You'll disrupt any findings...
[Not that he's made any movements toward the bloodwork he's decided he needs.]
no subject
[And it continues to do so every second they spend talking about it, faster than any normal disease or plague, which this man can't get through his fever-wracked head fast enough. There's nothing to study or attempt to cure that's worth the delay.
Thank the Maker Fitz is either too bleary to know what he's saying or too wrung-out to keep resisting Anders--he catches a room number in that fragmented mumble. Success! Now here's hoping Fitz had given him the right one.]
Findings can wait. [Doctor Anders is in the house and using his authoritative doctor voice.] I'll be seeing you soon so don't go getting any funny ideas, okay?
no subject
[He repeats it with less firmness than before, attention wandering further. What were they talking about again?]
...sample. I was...
[Whenever Anders finds him, he'll be marginally less coherent than before. He'll have taken that long to reach for a proper syringe and gather a petrie dish, but the pain spiked in tandem. He's slumped in the same chair he'd been, arms heavy at his sides. He's humming faintly, as if that might drive off the ache.]
action okay?
... Actually, no, he does hate Thedas. At least the subterranean parts of it where darkspawn and the Old Gods live.]
Stay still.
[It would be just his luck for the guy to crawl off before he gets there, so he makes a point to hurry. The others will have to hold down the fort in the knock-off Deep Roads while he deals with this as best he can. How he's going to deal with it is something he hasn't quite figured out yet by the time he comes to a stop outside of Fitz's door. It's a work in progress.]
You're not going down easy, that's for sure.
[He pushes open the door. The humming--eerily reminiscent of that black and tainted thrum permanently lodged in the back of his mind--is indication Fitz hasn't keeled over yet. Stubborn bastard, this one.]
action is great!
And it's a love song that's asking him for something in return. Who is he to deny it?
As his visitor approaches, he finally picks up the needle, but there's nothing scientific in his method. He jams it into his inner elbow, but not in a place that would result in a controlled collection. He just needs to be bleeding. The song wants him to be bleeding.]
eeexcellent
[This string of muttering, half-directed at Fitz and half-directed at himself, marks his first step across the threshold. He glances around at the same time, taking in the sterile set-up of the lab, so unfamiliar from what he's used to. He'll need to do something about those samples Fitz mentioned. He'll--
Light glints off something small and metal and before he knows it, the man slouched in the chair is stabbing himself in the arm.]
Whoa, whoa--Maker's breath, stop that, would you.
[Anders lunges across the distance to grab the offending hand before he can do something worse like stab himself in the eye or wherever else his fever-brain thinks makes reasonable sense in his state.]
no subject
Is someone here...? Why...?]
It wants to spread...
no subject
Oh right, that whole... noble Warden sense of duty. Bummer.]
I know.
[This comes out softer and steadier than he would've thought--he does know. He'd started to forget, being nightmare-free for so long, but it'd all come rushing back to him that first night thrashing in tangled sheets. Fire in his blood. A song aching in the very roots of his teeth. Yeah, he knows.]
But sorry, I'm not into blood play, you'll have to safe that for another day.
[Taking the syringe out of Fitz's grasp, he moves to put his arms around him and haul him to his feet from behind to get him to a bed. The nearest vertical piece of furniture will do, too, so long as it's out of reach of sharp things.]
no subject
You're going to bring me back to the tunnels...?
[That must be it. That was the help he'd mentioned before. It'll be so much easier if he can travel with support.
The closest thing to a bed would be a couch settled near a minifridge. But Fitz will be actively opposed to settling anywhere. Out. They need to be going out into the hall...]
no subject
No, it's better if they deal with this quietly here. That doesn't mean he's going to say that.]
Soon. [The tone he uses is the kind one would you on a particularly fussy baby.] Everything will be fine soon. Just try to relax before I drop you.
[Anders says that, but the reality of his grip tells a different story. It's firm, securely holding Fitz's arms at bay as much to keep him from flailing out of his grasp as it is to steady Fitz on his feet. Once Anders gets a look at his options and spots the couch, off they go in that direction. If he has to drag you, Fitz, so help him he will.]