EVENT PLOT | HOSPITAL / CLINIC MINGLE

[the_good_doctor]

Who: Healers, Volunteers, Friends, Concerned Parties, Glee Club and People Being Sick.
What: Biological Warfare Event!
When: Day 147 - 149
Where: The Hospital in Sigyn | Yakuzen Clinic in Heimdall.
Rating: Please warn in individual threads using the subject line! Death / Character Suffering a possibility so please be ready before jumping in.

[General mingle log for the Biological Warfare Plot! Read the ooc planning post for more detailed information, but as a quick guideline:

Day 147 (afternoon/evening): Wave 1 Patients start to develop symptoms - persistent coughing, nausea, dizziness, fever, blister-like burn marks.

Day 148 (morning): Wave 1 Patients worsen, coughing up blood, slipping in and out of consciousness. Hospital staff overwhelmed, Wave 2 Patients start developing symptoms and NPC panic starts.

Day 148 (afternoon/evening): First Wave 1 deaths occur, but Wave 1 patients who survive find their symptoms abating. Work on a immunization starts. Wave 2 Patient's condition worsens. Once developed the immunization is distributed throughout the city.

Day 149: Fully recovered Wave 1 patients join Hospital volunteers in caring for patients, but as the immunization takes effect, symptoms abate and recovery starts.]

Comments

Day 148, Sigyn Hospital

[needlebearer]

[Arya had always hated being ill. It had always meant being bedbound and fretted over by her mother and Septa Mordane; watching the goings on about Winterfell from the window of her sickbed rather than being in the middle of everything and getting underfoot, which was all that she had seemed to be good at back then, really. It had meant taking the most ghastly tasting herbal remedies, which everyone said would do her good, but that she had always seen as some sort of punishment.

Today, though, she would have traded her bed in the hospital in Sigyn District for a lifetime of bedrest in Winterfell; to feel Catelyn's cool palm on her clammy forehead. Arya was in so much pain, and it was only getting worse. She felt like her whole body was on fire, and the burns all over her skin were blistering and stinging even more than they had when they first appeared on her body the previous day. She'd not been all that lucid today, there were times when she was very aware of what was going on around her, but she had slept for a great deal of it too, although she woke feeling even less rested than when she had slipped out of consciousness. The first time she'd woken, she had been choking on her own blood, so she lay on her side now, to try to prevent that from happening again.]

[samantha_grey]

[There was a figure hovering in the wings from time to time in the mornings at the hospital. Her hands were wreathed in gloves that were soon disposed of, her body wrapped in a disposable gown and her tail tucked and tied into her leggings. A thick mask covering her face.

The second time she emerged at the doorway, she looked at Arya with obvious worry. There was a small cannister of salve in her hands. A whispered word to the nurse and she slipped in. From what they had seen, even these salves, powered with the potency of the fire blossoms, could only barely remove and alleviate some of the symptoms. It was not a cure.

But she could not stand seeing Arya suffer like this, and so she began to carefully apply what she could to some of the burns.]

Hold still, Arya.

[needlebearer]

[Arya's been hovering on the edge of consciousness for a while, but the small relief she feels at the salve relaxes her a little, and she opens her eyes.]

It hurts.

[samantha_grey]

I know it does, Arya. Take it easy. I'm going to ease this as much as I can. You shouldn't suffer like this.

[A temporary relief seemed more a cruelty than anything else at the moment. It was a fight not to become choked up when she saw the condition of the girl. Regardless of the motivations in the war, the justifications, the supposed depredations of the Asgardian gods, Samantha chose a side when she saw Arya like this.

She wouldn't forgive the gods for bringing the girl here, but this weapon was below low. The logic of it, the pragmatism, made perfect tactical sense. However, its use was an excuse for her to want to see Surt's head on a non-metaphorical pike.

She massaged as much of the cream as she could into as many sores as she could find. Only when the applications were finished did she discard the gloves and canister into the biological waste bin and replace her gloves after a quick sanitizing. She looked at Arya sadly.]

Please tell me that helped a little at least...

[needlebearer]

[She manages a weak nod. It hasn't done enough to make a real difference, but she can feel the burning fade a little, although it doesn't subside completely.]

Need to ... tell Robb...

[samantha_grey]

I will. [She tapped out the message, short and sweet, to the point. Something to notify him of the room number, that she was in very bad shape.] You don't need to be doing much right now Arya. You need to rest, conserve your strength.

(OOC: Feel free to let him know, though I'm sure you already did.)

[needlebearer]

[She relaxes a little, knowing that Robb knows, that he must surely be on his way here already. There are important things that she needs to tell him before he's no longer here; things she should have told him before, though she didn't want to face them.]

Thank you. You've always been good to me.

Day 148, Sigyn Hospital

[holmes_fanatic]

[Despite feeling utterly wretched himself, when the bathroom calls, Conan has to answer. He's making his way back to his sleeping pad, when a familiar face catches his attention. The girl from Thor, looking in every bit as bad condition as he'd feared.

Is she sleeping? Conan hesitates to wake her. His greeting is quiet, pitched low so as not to disturb any others.]

Hey. Are you awake?

[needlebearer]

[Arya's eyes flicker open at the sound of his voice. She can feel her strength leaving her more and more with each passing hour.] I'm awake. For now, anyway.

[holmes_fanatic]

[Now that he had the chance to talk to her, what did he say? Conan hesitated, but a familiar tickle at the back of his throat reminded him that he didn't have much time to speak.]

I don't know if you heard but -- the reason we're sick is the smoke from the cannisters.

[needlebearer]

[Arya nods weakly in comprehension. It was the only possible answer, really.] The dragon - someone evil must be controlling it.

[holmes_fanatic]

[The cough that Conan was fighting makes itself known. It's a moment before he can respond.]

The Fire Giants. The one's who declared war on us -- the dragon's done their work before.

[needlebearer]

You're sick, too.

[She looks worried at that, but almost distraught at the revelation about the dragon. She thinks how angry Daenerys would be if she knew. It makes her angry at the Fire Giants, in a way that she hasn't been before; she's cared nothing for the outcome of the gods' war, as long as the travellers were sent home and not forced to participate in it.]

[pratentious]

[ For all the many times he's been ushered back to his room after passing out in the hallways or at the bedside of other patients, Arthur still refuses to sit back and let this virus claim him. It hurts and even in between the waves of nausea and sick, he is still in a distant place of mind, like the smoke from the fire within has clouded his vision and left him stumbling through the dark.

It's how he happens upon Arya. He wants to continue his rounds, show his support of those left bed ridden, despite it growing harder to stand with every passing moment, and when he sees a little girl, a child, curled frail upon her side - he shambles into the room, blinking furiously until he can make out her face. ]

Oh, gods. Arya, no.

[needlebearer]

[It's a struggle for her to focus on him, too, but it's getting to the point where even breathing is hard work for Arya. At first she only registers him as someone blond and regal, and images of Joffrey swim up in her mind. Despite how weak she is, there's still a part of her that's trying to push herself out of bed, to fulfil the promise she made to herself, what seems like a lifetime ago now. But then her vision clears and she sees Arthur standing there, and she smiles.]

Hello, Arthur.

[pratentious]

[ He returns the smile weakly, ruefully, then looks about for a chair to pull up beside her (though once he's in it, he's none too sure he'll be able to get back to his feet). ]

How are you feeling?

[ Awful, he knows, but sometimes it's just good to get it out, to have someone listen. He'll listen as long as he can. ]

[needlebearer]

[Arya makes a face.] Everything hurts. It feels like I'm on fire.

[pratentious]

That seems to be the trend, yes.

[ Oh, don't cough in front of her. Don't show her weakness when she needs to keep strong. He swallows it down with a grimace - it burns more in your chest than in your throat - and lets out a shaky exhale once it's past. ]

The dragon what wrought this upon the city - I wonder if it is its breath now that lies within our chest now.

[needlebearer]

I wonder how dragons stand it? [But the mention of the dragon has made her sad again; she's always had something of a reverence for the very idea of them, and since meeting Daenerys that increased tenfold. She was well aware that they were capable of terrible destruction - the blackened ruin of Harrenhal was proof enough of that - but she never thought that one would hurt her in this way.]

OOPS FEELINGSSSS

[robb]

[ Sickness is not something Robb Stark can fight. It is not something that can be won with steel, iron nor the cries of men. When the staff at the busy clinic inform him through his bracelet that Arya Stark finds herself at the mercies of the epidemic, he makes no hesitation in finding her.

He has come so far from his days in Westeros. Having Arya is something of a norm for him Knowing that she'll be around the following morning was a childish assurance that Robb kept to himself. (He's a boy, after all).

When he finds her, she is amongst the rows of sick. Her skin flushed hot in heat and Robb hesitates to call her out. Perhaps wanting to let her sleep. He wonders if he should request for something, milk of the poppy or a cold towel. he wants to know why the maesters are not crowding over her. giving her all the attention. she's a member of house stark, she deserves so much more than this. ]

Arya. [ Robb sits by her bedside, stroking her hair with the back of his head. ]

[ "Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow." ]

[ When she is resting, her eyes laced with sleep. Robb will find himself alone and try to seek solace in the closest thing asgard offers as a godswood. He'll pray to gods old and new and that of his realm to spare her. he cannot have loss again, after father, after bran, after rickon - to watch Arya go would be a knife to his chest. ]

Stay strong, Arya. Do you wish for me to find you a Maester?

[ today he is not a lord of winterfell, today he's here as her brother. ]

[needlebearer]

[The only relief Arya feels from the pain at this point is when she's sleeping, and she's sleeping when Robb arrives, dreaming of home and happier, simpler times, riding horses and playing at soldiers and cuddling up to Nymeria.

Her brother's voice makes her stir, but through her closed eyes it sounds familiar and nostalgic, but not immediately identifiable. Arya thinks that it's father, that wherever she's gone, she's joined him, and that gives her some small comfort. She rouses, to try and follow the voice, to find him, but finds Robb instead. She smiles weakly, happy that he's here, but happier still that her fragile body has not yet given up the fight for life.]

Robb...

[She shakes her head, knowing that there's little that a Maester could do to help now, save administer milk of the poppy, and she doesn't want to sleep now, she needs to talk to him, to tell him things she should have told him long ago.]

I don't think I've got long left.

[robb]

[ she's a child, in that regard children are weaker - but arya's always been the strong one. sometimes, he thinks - stronger than he could ever be. she went through so much alone and even robb had some comforts handed to him. he had his councils and mother and the assurance that someone somewhere approved of his battles. but arya was different. it's felt like ages since father and though bran and rickon's deaths have left newer scars he doesn't want to add to them.

must i lose everyone? he thinks - it's a bitter pill to swallow. not today arya. not today. ]

Fight it, with all your strength. Please. Talk not of death, Arya. We've gone through far too much.

[needlebearer]

[The burning itch in Arya's throat begins again, and soon she's overtaken by a racking cough, which makes her whole body convulse. When it finally subsides, she looks up at Robb solemnly.]

Valar Morghulis, Robb. All men must die. But don't worry. I'll get to see father, I'll tell him that we know he was innocent.

[robb]

[ he takes the water from her bedside and hands it to her. he's never been good at this, this is what sansa and their mother are good at. even with bran, he took to courts and orders rather than stayed by his side. ]

No, you will not go to father Arya. Do not give in to death. No.

[ Please, please - please ]

You must stay strong.

[needlebearer]

[Taking a swallow of the water, Arya has to stop herself from breaking out coughing again as it slides down her throat, rough as sandpaper. Setting down the glass with a blistered hand, she pauses for a moment, looking at her brother and trying to compose herself for what she had to tell him. She was dying, there was no time left now. She just wished she'd had the courage to tell him earlier.]

Robb ... I told you that I escaped from King's Landing with the Night's Watch recruiters, but I never told you what happened after that.