exsiliumlogs | [Closed] I'm either so sick in the head

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[Closed] I'm either so sick in the head

Date & Time: late on July 25-28th
Location: Apartment 810
Characters: Flora, Lestat, and fraaands. Tag yourselves!
Summary: After feeling better than she has in quite some time, she's back in Exsilium, and it's not agreeing with her.
Warnings: None. Well, Lestat'll be around, if that counts.

[ooc: despite the format of the post, i don't really care about tag style, so do whatever you're comfortable with, I'll shift to match. :3b]

On the twenty fourth, Flora did her best to have fun, even though she knew what she'd be going back to the next day. All the more reason to savour every last moment of it to the best of her ability, and she did, even while that lurked in the back of her mind. Late into the day, she made sure to stay near Lancelot and absolutely away from everyone else. Pain had been nothing new for her, honestly, you couldn't be a Guardian Fairy without experiencing it reasonably often (whatever counted as reasonably), but that was in the heat of battle, that was with adrenaline and grit. This was different. It wasn't just pain, either, it was insanity and sickness and sadness. She'd face it, she had no choice, but until it happened, it was waiting for an axe to drop. And waiting, and waiting, and waiting....

Finally, and yet all too soon, they got back.

She couldn't breathe at first, and by the time she could, it was a poisonous effort. The world felt slow and sluggish with the decay, the twisted life and the lack of it, and she moved in much the same way, dazed and swaying. On its heels were the screams like lightning, striking her mind over and over and over. She cried for the world, and the world did through her. It was all the same.

It was too much for her mind to take all at once, and she blacked out. She slept.

It was not sound or restful.

Still, she woke, eventually, awkwardly sitting up in her bed (when did she get here?) and rubbing her forehead.

"A-are we still...at the beach, because my head feels like it was trampled by a dinosaur."

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[Berserker would remain, hovering over Flora's bed like a ghoul. He had been there the whole time, vigilant. Hostile.

Invisible to everybody but Flora, too. This made things all the better.]

"My first instinct would be to say you had too much to drink, but, ah..." Lestat's voice rang out from the doorway to the bedroom. How long had he been there? "... but I don't think I'd need to point out such irony as that kind of an accusation coming from me."

As if on cue, he took a sip from a wine glass, full of a red, viscous liquid. Guess what it is? "You know, us vampires are able to empathize with mortals to a degree. You're rather difficult compared to most mortals, but I know when someone is having a nightmare. You poor thing... did the sun get to you?"

Not that he remembers quite what that's like, nowadays.

Flora would ask difficult in what way, but she spotted the glass and every he'd said was immediately ignored. Despite her exhaustion and restlessness, she managed a glare, if not as strong as she would have liked. "Whose blood is that, Lestat." It wasn't the Initiative's synthetic alternative, it was the real deal.

"Oh, this?" he asks, with a shrug. "I stole it from the Initiative's blood bank. I doubt Type AB will be needed in the near future for a transfusion." It was the universal receiver, after all. Not the universal donor.

"As for whose it is, I don't know. I didn't bother to read the donor's name. It's quite good, though. I'd offer it if I knew you and I shared similar tastes."

Lestat, she's just woken up, can you not. Still, she must grudgingly admit that she'd prefer that instead of him attacking someone, even if she's still not entirely pleased with it. Her head still hurts too much to really think too much on it.

"How much of it did you take?" She's read a thing or two about blood since he's talked of it, and well, if he had to take anything, better AB, but still, blood was blood. Someone might need it.

Flora rubs her forehead with the heel of her palm. It's too early in the morning for sliding scales of moral ambiguity. (She doesn't know it's not the morning)

She doesn't bother hiding her disgust at the offer. Ew. "I'll pass."

"Just one unit. I'm not greedy, even if I would say that I deserve more." He's so humble, isn't he? So modest.

"Suit yourself." Another sip. He can tell the poor thing is getting annoyed. "How much longer are you going to be in bed? It's late enough for me to me to be awake."

Yeah, he would say. She'd roll her eyes if she didn't think they'd get stuck at the back of her head. Still, she doesn't condone it, but...one unit of blood. That's not AS bad as it could have been.

The bit of news throws her off-kilter, and she stares at him with open surprise. "W-what? Have I been out that long?" Immediately, she checks her bedside clock, and that is definitely PM, not AM. Even as she expected it, that was incredibly alarming.

"You have," he replies casually. "When I woke up, you were still asleep. I thought it was supposed to be the opposite with vampires, but oh well. C'est la vie." Another sip of the blood.

"Are you at least feeling better after all of that?"

Christopher stepped through the window and glanced down at what was before him. "Nature herself is ill. Could it be that you are in sympathy with nature? Perhaps the pathetic fallacy is not for me but for you!"

He set a basket of warm chocolate chip cookies at her bedside. "Good afternoon, Flora."

She knew what was coming before it happened, and when it did, she closed her eyes. Of all the times...and yet, that was probably precisely why he was here.

"...You know, sometimes, I wonder if you can't read minds." A beat. "Can you?"

There was a moment, and then a few more where she decided what she would do. Hesitation, then a tired, relenting sigh. "Good af--" she blinked suddenly, looking at him? "Is it really that late?"

He chuckles and sits on the bed at her side. "Slept in, have you? That's no good. A flower should open its petals at the sun! Of course, there are nocturnal flowers, like the moonflower or the evening primrose, but even so, I think you're more like a sunflower or perhaps a dandelion. Try not to be too lazy about things."

Wow, she hears you not answering that question. What a surprise, coming from him. Maybe he doesn't think she was being serious about it, but paranoia has her squinting for a moment before she leans back against her headboard. Suspicion is exhausting. "There's not much sun here to open up to, here." A beat, a weak frown. Displeasure is exhausting. "And I'm not lazy."

She's been hearing that a lot, lately. What is up with that?

It's like he hasn't heard her. "Do you need something from the store? Humankind's war against the natural order of things has led them to create all kind of drugs and medicines to fight off her vengeance on them."

More surprises, there. Truly. Flora shuts her eyes a moment. "It's not vengeance...it's sickness." And suffering. Her lips turn up, not quite a smile, and she tilts her head more in his direction. "Anyway, I figure you'd be against such an idea." But he was also contrary, wasn't he.

He chuckles warmly and pats her once on the head. "In that case, I'd have to be against my own existence."

"Not better," she says promptly with a shake of her head, "Just...bearing it. I'll level out soon enough, though." she regards him, carefully.

"I'm a little surprised by the concern, I have to say."

She flinches, the contact coming unexpectedly, but replies with "We can't have that, now," more seriously than she intends to.

Christopher acts like he didn't notice, but he draws his hand away. He still grins. "I take that as your consent to get you medicine."

She doesn't know why, but there's a pang of regret, one that manages to surface before she sets it aside. No, that's not quite true, she knows exactly why, but it's too soon to think about these things. Introspection is exhausting. "You don't have to trouble yourself with it."

"Are you?" He's almost amused by the statement. Sure, simply by virtue of being a vampire - something that requires the blood of the living to continue living himself - wasn't exactly the most empathic of creatures, but he would never consider himself evil.

"Is it that difficult to believe that I'm curious? You were fine, a while ago. Now all of a sudden, you're ill, and yet you haven't gone to the infirmary."

He dismisses the idea (and the regret) with a wave. "Trouble with friends is just how uninteresting people refer to adventure. Hm, an anti-cough syrup, then? And something for congestion."

That word, again. "Those aren't quite what I need." She doesn't think she has any fever anymore, but her head still hurts a lot, and she's just so tired. She doesn't tell him these things, though. Because he'll want to help and she's not sure if she should let him.

"Hm," he says, looking at her for a moment. His smile is one that either is deep in thought or not thinking anything at all. "All right." With that, he tugs the fabric off the top of the cookie basket so he can lay a few out for her.

"...Why?" she asks while staring at the cookies, and, thus, obviously, is talking about them, about them, and not anything else at all. Nope.

He looks up at her. Inscrutably, he grins at her. "Why what?"

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[Closed] I'm either so sick in the head

[HERE, BUT NOT ENTIRELY. W/E GET A JOB]

Just got back into town :D

WELCOME BAAAAAACK 8D

\o/

lmao i've missed lestat in my life

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GONNA BEAT U, FARRAH

what

THE MOST LATE THING, I'M SORRY, I AM ON HIATUS. ;A;

i see u trying to clear your inbox. i won't let you

hdu

easily is how B3

/patpat

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oh i'm sorry did you have nirvana

and i'm taking it back

yoink

no