pumpkinhollow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-08-15 06:22 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2024-08-15 06:22 pm
[ August Event ] Thatcher's Blight
**Plain text version here.
› Incubation is extremely short, and the virus begins manifesting symptoms quickly after initial infection, sometimes as soon as a mere two hours after contact. Patients experience strong flu-like symptoms, including exhaustion, nausea, fever, running nose, sore throat, cough, increased heart-rate, difficulty breathing, and mild delirium. A patient will become truly infectious when a fever forms, and will need to be handled with caution in this event. Infection from a patient in Stage 1 is not impossible, but notably lower than the later stages of infection.
› Characterized by severely increasing symptoms as patients' bodies attempt to fight off the disease. Flu-like symptoms worsen, and any suffering the illness who were not bedridden will often become so. Confusion worsens severely; completely lucid patients will lose track of where they are, or who they are with. Emotional dysregulation begins, and short-term memory starts to degrade. Infection from a patient in Stage 2 is not impossible, and is increased from the low rates of Stage 1, but is also notably lower than the later stages of infection.
› So named due to a return of many of the patients' physical faculties, such as standing and walking without issue, but cold-like symptoms continue. Patients' short-term memory continues to degrade and general confusion remains severe, and many will enter a so-called "time loop" of their day-to-day actions: whatever action they were taking before the "loop" begins, they will repeat. If someone goes to the grocery store, they will pay, take groceries home, drop them, and return to do so again. Phone-calls will be made again, and repeat beat-for-beat.
Addressing the "loop" will often cause a patient to regain some lucidity, but they will often fall back into doing so once more if left to their own devices. As the False Decline moves into the next stage, patients will begin to experience sharp, often unprovoked bursts of rage, or a persistent level of frustration.
› Most often observed in carnivores and omnivorous species, as many herbivores/prey animals will simply attempt to run, hide, or collect with their herd (which frequently performs the same function). Notably, this stage for animals lasts a distinctly short amount of time, and transfer rates between animals are remarkably low compared to humanoid infection - the reason for this is unknown.
Patients seemingly succumb to a deep rage and attack any moving object in sight, track sources of sounds, and occasionally begin lashing out at inanimate objects. Dexterity is reduced sharply; patients with hands will no longer be able to grip doorknobs or use intricate tools.
No regard for physical well-being is maintained, and patients will undergo grievous injury to attempt their attacks. Attacks are never made with intention to kill, though fatality from wounds is possible; the intention of the "Propagation" period is to spread the virus as widely and quickly as possible. If one target is too difficult to reach, it will easily be abandoned in favor of an easier one.
Cognitive functions are scarce beyond seeing and hearing - however, "word salad" often comes from patients capable of speech, frequently containing thoughts or spoken words from their final moments of lucidity.
› After the previous stage's "last push" is complete, patients' bodies begin to shut down. The body succumbs to the virus, leaving the afflicted catatonic and immobilized. In a final attempt to use the host's body to further spread the virus, however, it will use one last strategy: reaching out to the kindness of others.
The patient, despite no longer seeming physically aware of their inability to move, will call for help, plea to anyone they can see, or weep. Any contact with fluids by those attempting to assist will often result in immediate infection.
At the end of his account comes the worst of the news: Mr. Thatcher did not discover a cure for the blight that claimed his hometown. When the Royal Guard arrived to provide assistance, there was little town left; what was left aside was felled to prevent the spread from moving any further.
If you believe you are close to acquiring said information, reach out to a mod! If you are correct, you will receive a little digital info card. If not, you will get a clue.
There is a bit of a time buffer between the event’s beginning and when a vaccine can be developed, so use that time to work on this. It’s best if teams work on this simultaneously!
For a successful trial of the vaccine, a group of participating medical staff must collectively roll at least a sum of 40. Anything lower and the trial fails, and the test subject contracts the Blight as normal. (This means, for ease's sake, if one character rolls an 18, another character can roll a 12, and a third rolls a 10, that third vaccine trial will succeed!) To try again, they must acquire a new volunteer.
Up to 4 people with appropriate medical knowledge can roll per trial, and these are added the same as any separate trials towards that collective 40. Threads with non-medical people assisting medical staff can allow that character to roll at advantage (ex. if Watson and Mulcahy have a thread together, for all trials going forward, Watson can roll 2 dice and submit the higher roll).
The vaccine is cleared for use after 3 successful trials, and is able to be distributed to the rest of the town from there!
But then, late into the second day, the looping starts. Infected people begin repeating tasks, such as doing the same chores over and over, visiting the same stores and purchasing the same items, and making laps around a specific area for hours. While the infected still seem more lucid, they can’t recall their previous “loops” and will get agitated and even violent if pulled away from their activities. Their loved ones and neighbors will also find them still very contagious.
And by the 48 hour mark, the bloodshed begins in earnest.
Lockdowns begin swiftly, with the uninfected hunkering down in clinics and easily defendable communal buildings. The most viable shelters are Town Hall or Greymare Library for Downtown Hollow residents, and Prague Mill or Baker Ranch for Northwest Hollowites and those who live on the Bluffs. Leeds Estate is also quite defensible, but it appears that Dahlia shut up her doors and windows well in advance. Those who try to shelter in their homes find that luck is not with them.
However, these locations don’t have the means to maintain a population on their own. Supply runs for medical items and food will need to be organized. Who will brave the danger?
Additionally, each shelter is advised to keep a radio available. The radio tower built adjacent to Town Hall is running as often as possible thanks to Phil Connors and Cecil Palmer. A small militia has been formed by Gerry Keay to keep the radio tower defended at all costs, and he’s happy to recruit more help. Sending stones still function for communication, so it’s best to stay in touch and work together while the medical team develops a cure.
Despite his general haziness, the moment he sees the needle, he will flee as quickly and as violently as possible. Give chase! Even with the vaccine protecting the islanders, it’s not safe to let this suspicious superspreader go on as-is. And once the island’s strange visitor is soundly subdued, all that remains is to vaccinate the townsfolk and quarantine the remaining unwell animals until the disease runs its course before Thatcher’s Blight is safely behind you.
Although you may want to give everything you own a good scrubbing, just to be safe.
THATCHER'S BLIGHT
FLU SEASON
CONTENT WARNINGS: Pandemic/quarantine, exaggerated rabies allegory, loss of faculties, medical, unsanitary, extreme violence, mental degradation and dementia-like symptoms, zombie-like behavior, guaranteed death.
-
The day that the plague comes to Marrow Isle has all the makings of a very peaceful day on the island. Incidents of Dirt Men and dragon sightings have been minimal, the crabs are in the process of receding back into the sea, and the weather has been lovely. Warm with a crisp breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The heat of summer is beginning to peter out and the smell of autumn begins to waft in the breeze, thoughts turning to apple harvests and colored leaves. It should have been a lovely day.
But let’s be honest, that’s always the first sign of trouble, isn’t it?
The market in town bustles as usual when a stranger walks into town. This isn’t inherently strange. New people arrive all the time, after all. What makes this particular incident strange is the fact that the unusual man enters from the wrong side of the island, seeming to come from the mountain rather than the shore. His features are strange, elongated uncannily and darkened in peculiar places as if being lit from directly above by a spotlight in a dark room. He is smiling broadly, his eyes bright but glassy, and he walks with a bit of a stagger as he tours every single shop and booth in the marketplace. He laughs loudly, touches everything he can, puts his hands on every person who will allow him, and lets out a rattling cough at random intervals. Sometimes the cough comes with blood. And if you ask him if he’s alright, he’ll laugh heartily and answer, “Oh, I’m fine, I just haven’t been feeling so well.”
When the man is detained and taken to a clinic, he goes without complaint, telling jokes the whole way and following any orders or requests with genial compliance. He’s hazy, but well-mannered and friendly. Any questions for the stranger, however, are met only with peals of near-drunken giggles, with only two exceptions. When asked what he is sick with, he will readily answer that he has something called “Thatcher’s Blight.” And when asked for his name, he will answer, “Patient Zero.” But by the time this information is passed to the radio and newspaper, people are already beginning to cough.
-
The day that the plague comes to Marrow Isle has all the makings of a very peaceful day on the island. Incidents of Dirt Men and dragon sightings have been minimal, the crabs are in the process of receding back into the sea, and the weather has been lovely. Warm with a crisp breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The heat of summer is beginning to peter out and the smell of autumn begins to waft in the breeze, thoughts turning to apple harvests and colored leaves. It should have been a lovely day.
But let’s be honest, that’s always the first sign of trouble, isn’t it?
The market in town bustles as usual when a stranger walks into town. This isn’t inherently strange. New people arrive all the time, after all. What makes this particular incident strange is the fact that the unusual man enters from the wrong side of the island, seeming to come from the mountain rather than the shore. His features are strange, elongated uncannily and darkened in peculiar places as if being lit from directly above by a spotlight in a dark room. He is smiling broadly, his eyes bright but glassy, and he walks with a bit of a stagger as he tours every single shop and booth in the marketplace. He laughs loudly, touches everything he can, puts his hands on every person who will allow him, and lets out a rattling cough at random intervals. Sometimes the cough comes with blood. And if you ask him if he’s alright, he’ll laugh heartily and answer, “Oh, I’m fine, I just haven’t been feeling so well.”
When the man is detained and taken to a clinic, he goes without complaint, telling jokes the whole way and following any orders or requests with genial compliance. He’s hazy, but well-mannered and friendly. Any questions for the stranger, however, are met only with peals of near-drunken giggles, with only two exceptions. When asked what he is sick with, he will readily answer that he has something called “Thatcher’s Blight.” And when asked for his name, he will answer, “Patient Zero.” But by the time this information is passed to the radio and newspaper, people are already beginning to cough.
VIROLOGY
PROGNOSIS
Thatcher’s Blight is a viral infection that is transmitted primarily through body fluids, but it can also become airborne and will stick to surfaces that are not cleaned thoroughly. The onset is fast and aggressive, and the diagnosis is always deadly. At least until a cure is found. Thankfully, Pumpkin Hollow is staffed with medical professionals from all throughout time, whose job it will be to research the disease and create a vaccine. Below is a thorough overview of all of the details you’ll need OOCly, but ICly these things should be figured out organically.Stage 1. Incubation + Initial Infection [ 2-6 HOURS ]
› Incubation is extremely short, and the virus begins manifesting symptoms quickly after initial infection, sometimes as soon as a mere two hours after contact. Patients experience strong flu-like symptoms, including exhaustion, nausea, fever, running nose, sore throat, cough, increased heart-rate, difficulty breathing, and mild delirium. A patient will become truly infectious when a fever forms, and will need to be handled with caution in this event. Infection from a patient in Stage 1 is not impossible, but notably lower than the later stages of infection.
Stage 2. Prodromal [ 16-24 HOURS ]
› Characterized by severely increasing symptoms as patients' bodies attempt to fight off the disease. Flu-like symptoms worsen, and any suffering the illness who were not bedridden will often become so. Confusion worsens severely; completely lucid patients will lose track of where they are, or who they are with. Emotional dysregulation begins, and short-term memory starts to degrade. Infection from a patient in Stage 2 is not impossible, and is increased from the low rates of Stage 1, but is also notably lower than the later stages of infection.
Stage 3. "Amnesiac's Recovery" / False Decline [ 30-38 HOURS ]
› So named due to a return of many of the patients' physical faculties, such as standing and walking without issue, but cold-like symptoms continue. Patients' short-term memory continues to degrade and general confusion remains severe, and many will enter a so-called "time loop" of their day-to-day actions: whatever action they were taking before the "loop" begins, they will repeat. If someone goes to the grocery store, they will pay, take groceries home, drop them, and return to do so again. Phone-calls will be made again, and repeat beat-for-beat.
Addressing the "loop" will often cause a patient to regain some lucidity, but they will often fall back into doing so once more if left to their own devices. As the False Decline moves into the next stage, patients will begin to experience sharp, often unprovoked bursts of rage, or a persistent level of frustration.
Stage 4. "Propagation" / Furious Form [ 40 - 52 HOURS ]
› Most often observed in carnivores and omnivorous species, as many herbivores/prey animals will simply attempt to run, hide, or collect with their herd (which frequently performs the same function). Notably, this stage for animals lasts a distinctly short amount of time, and transfer rates between animals are remarkably low compared to humanoid infection - the reason for this is unknown.
Patients seemingly succumb to a deep rage and attack any moving object in sight, track sources of sounds, and occasionally begin lashing out at inanimate objects. Dexterity is reduced sharply; patients with hands will no longer be able to grip doorknobs or use intricate tools.
No regard for physical well-being is maintained, and patients will undergo grievous injury to attempt their attacks. Attacks are never made with intention to kill, though fatality from wounds is possible; the intention of the "Propagation" period is to spread the virus as widely and quickly as possible. If one target is too difficult to reach, it will easily be abandoned in favor of an easier one.
Cognitive functions are scarce beyond seeing and hearing - however, "word salad" often comes from patients capable of speech, frequently containing thoughts or spoken words from their final moments of lucidity.
Stage 5. "Last Ditch Effort" / Paralytic Form [ 62 - 70 HOURS ]
› After the previous stage's "last push" is complete, patients' bodies begin to shut down. The body succumbs to the virus, leaving the afflicted catatonic and immobilized. In a final attempt to use the host's body to further spread the virus, however, it will use one last strategy: reaching out to the kindness of others.
The patient, despite no longer seeming physically aware of their inability to move, will call for help, plea to anyone they can see, or weep. Any contact with fluids by those attempting to assist will often result in immediate infection.
At the end of his account comes the worst of the news: Mr. Thatcher did not discover a cure for the blight that claimed his hometown. When the Royal Guard arrived to provide assistance, there was little town left; what was left aside was felled to prevent the spread from moving any further.
RESEARCH BEGINS
The first step of defeating the plague will be doing background research. Pair up with a research buddy and start looking into the history of Thatcher’s Blight. We will need threads where people locate the following information:- The original medical records from physicians in Grier’s Glen regarding Thatcher’s Blight. (The info contained therein can be found OOCly in the “Prognosis” section, but finding it ICly will be important! Plus there’s a lil bonus info there.)
- The identity of Patient Zero.
- What Patient Zero is, exactly.
If you believe you are close to acquiring said information, reach out to a mod! If you are correct, you will receive a little digital info card. If not, you will get a clue.
There is a bit of a time buffer between the event’s beginning and when a vaccine can be developed, so use that time to work on this. It’s best if teams work on this simultaneously!
DEVELOPING THE VACCINE
This portion of the event, though being narrative, has a mechanical function as well! Thatcher's Blight cannot be cured before 8/18 (which will be a full course of the illness in the earliest townsfolk who contracted it). We will be asking for characters in the medical professions to be rolling a d20.For a successful trial of the vaccine, a group of participating medical staff must collectively roll at least a sum of 40. Anything lower and the trial fails, and the test subject contracts the Blight as normal. (This means, for ease's sake, if one character rolls an 18, another character can roll a 12, and a third rolls a 10, that third vaccine trial will succeed!) To try again, they must acquire a new volunteer.
Up to 4 people with appropriate medical knowledge can roll per trial, and these are added the same as any separate trials towards that collective 40. Threads with non-medical people assisting medical staff can allow that character to roll at advantage (ex. if Watson and Mulcahy have a thread together, for all trials going forward, Watson can roll 2 dice and submit the higher roll).
The vaccine is cleared for use after 3 successful trials, and is able to be distributed to the rest of the town from there!
VIOLENT OUTBREAK
SOMETHING IN THE AIR
The first day is a tense sort of quiet. Every cough or sneeze is fussed over, and everyone in town seems to be holding their breath. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. Pumpkin Hollow’s fantastical problems have always been bad, so no one’s under any illusions that this will be a walk in the park, but there’s always those same early whispers whenever a new horror rears its head. What are we in for this time? How bad will it get? But even as anxiety hangs in the air for the entirety of that first day, even as the flu-like symptoms take hold in seemingly record time and people’s minds grow hazy, there is an uneasy peace that the uninformed might even mistake for things being not so bad. Some victims are even beginning to look better after some rest.But then, late into the second day, the looping starts. Infected people begin repeating tasks, such as doing the same chores over and over, visiting the same stores and purchasing the same items, and making laps around a specific area for hours. While the infected still seem more lucid, they can’t recall their previous “loops” and will get agitated and even violent if pulled away from their activities. Their loved ones and neighbors will also find them still very contagious.
And by the 48 hour mark, the bloodshed begins in earnest.
QUARANTINE CHAOS
The most jarring part of all of this is how quickly the situation devolves from tentative worry into screaming chaos as the third day dawns. The infected begin to rise from their slumber to lay waste to their neighbors, attacking with abrupt and unprovoked violence, breaking into homes and jumping people in the streets. They break skin, break bones, but they do not kill--- at least, not on purpose. At the sight of blood, they immediately abandon their quarry, because killing was never the point. The disease does not want to kill. It wants to spread.Lockdowns begin swiftly, with the uninfected hunkering down in clinics and easily defendable communal buildings. The most viable shelters are Town Hall or Greymare Library for Downtown Hollow residents, and Prague Mill or Baker Ranch for Northwest Hollowites and those who live on the Bluffs. Leeds Estate is also quite defensible, but it appears that Dahlia shut up her doors and windows well in advance. Those who try to shelter in their homes find that luck is not with them.
However, these locations don’t have the means to maintain a population on their own. Supply runs for medical items and food will need to be organized. Who will brave the danger?
Additionally, each shelter is advised to keep a radio available. The radio tower built adjacent to Town Hall is running as often as possible thanks to Phil Connors and Cecil Palmer. A small militia has been formed by Gerry Keay to keep the radio tower defended at all costs, and he’s happy to recruit more help. Sending stones still function for communication, so it’s best to stay in touch and work together while the medical team develops a cure.
VAXXED UP [ CONCLUSION ]
When the research is done and the trials succeed, all it takes is a little more time and a few more materials to produce enough vaccinations for the whole town. And surely someone will set their sights, and their syringe, on Patient Zero.Despite his general haziness, the moment he sees the needle, he will flee as quickly and as violently as possible. Give chase! Even with the vaccine protecting the islanders, it’s not safe to let this suspicious superspreader go on as-is. And once the island’s strange visitor is soundly subdued, all that remains is to vaccinate the townsfolk and quarantine the remaining unwell animals until the disease runs its course before Thatcher’s Blight is safely behind you.
Although you may want to give everything you own a good scrubbing, just to be safe.
SHELTER IN PLACE (OPT OUT)
Prefer to opt-out? No worries. As soon as Patient Zero arrives, Dahlia begins contacting as many people as she can confirm are healthy under the guise of a “meeting”, providing somewhere safe and comfortable to stay until all this blows over. Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty to do there.
No, she’s not accepting recommendations, requests, or demands for who is allowed to come in. No, she’s not explaining why. No, your relationships with her or others don’t have any bearing either. She is choosing apparently at random--- although, those who know her well might be able to guess that her senses are keen enough to tell her who has been infected, and who has not. If you say no, she will not push, but you get the impression that you probably should not refuse, based on Dahlia’s serious demeanor.
By the end of day one, Dahlia’s gates are locked, and her doors and windows barricaded. Only then does she explain--- including the caveat that the doors will not open, come hell or high water, until the trouble is confirmed to have passed. No one in, no one out, no exceptions.
At some point in the week and change that the plague darkens Pumpkin Hollow’s collective doorstep, Miles Upshur disappears from the manor for a day, evidently snatched up by something or someone he couldn’t see in the middle of the night. Blessedly, he resurrects inside the building, but now there is a new worry--- who, or what, killed Miles? The boredom is swiftly replaced by a whodunnit mystery, but is that better or worse?
SLUMBER PARTY
Word of the afflicted stranger wandering the town hasn’t even reached every ear before Dahlia begins approaching people and insisting they come up to her mansion. She doesn’t use sending stones or even the phone to issue these invites. She simply walks up to you, whether she knows you or not, eyes you suspiciously for a moment, and then informs you that your presence is needed at her estate as soon as possible. “Bring your essentials,” she says vaguely. “And don’t touch anything outside your house until you get to the manor.”No, she’s not accepting recommendations, requests, or demands for who is allowed to come in. No, she’s not explaining why. No, your relationships with her or others don’t have any bearing either. She is choosing apparently at random--- although, those who know her well might be able to guess that her senses are keen enough to tell her who has been infected, and who has not. If you say no, she will not push, but you get the impression that you probably should not refuse, based on Dahlia’s serious demeanor.
By the end of day one, Dahlia’s gates are locked, and her doors and windows barricaded. Only then does she explain--- including the caveat that the doors will not open, come hell or high water, until the trouble is confirmed to have passed. No one in, no one out, no exceptions.
MURDER MYSTERY MANSION
As the days drag on, the waiting grows dull. Not the sort of dreary dullness of calm days spent whiling away the hours, but that sort of anxious boredom characterized by helpless dread. Loved ones are worried after. Attacks at the gates grow more frequent, and louder. Thankfully rations seem plentiful enough in the house of the wealthy heiress, but some of the things dwelling here need to eat things other than what can be found in the cupboard. And it can only be delayed so long.At some point in the week and change that the plague darkens Pumpkin Hollow’s collective doorstep, Miles Upshur disappears from the manor for a day, evidently snatched up by something or someone he couldn’t see in the middle of the night. Blessedly, he resurrects inside the building, but now there is a new worry--- who, or what, killed Miles? The boredom is swiftly replaced by a whodunnit mystery, but is that better or worse?
For the sake of the timeline not conflicting with House Calls, this will resolve itself within the span of one full week, likely coming to full conclusion by the 23rd. Backtagging is always welcome and encouraged, however!
A. T. Menelikov | OTA | general event cws apply!
Anzu is no stranger to epidemics, especially of the kind involving transmission by close contact with bodily fluids ... but he's got little experience with diseases such as this — oh, he's vaguely aware of haemorraghic fevers like yellow fever and dengue (and with rabies, but let's not dwell on that, he tells himself), but his remit is consumption and cholera. He feels distinctly out of his depth. Masking up, wearing cotton gloves that can be easily boiled and bleached, washing his hands with carbolic soap up to the elbow like he's a surgeon, those are easy things. They're merely the kind of thing one has to do once in a while, especially if one's spent his life as a physician in ghettoes and palaces. That's not what's bothering him.
Wildcards welcome! Feel free to plot with me on Discord!
He can’t help the patients directly — the disease progresses too fast, seems to look like nothing he actually knows how to treat, at the end makes the patients too dangerous to approach. That's what's eating at him. His life's work has been the steady, unglamorous but necessary work of the family physician.
(But when he permits him to dwell on it, he has seen rabies a handful of times. For the first time, the lack of death on the island seems like a blessing.)
For the most part, he's sequestered himself in Greymare Library, accompanied by both the plague-doctor parrot-crow (who's mostly exploring library shelves and dozing on his shoulder) and the white fox kit (mostly dozing on his lap, exactly like a kitten), going through old medical records and newspaper archives — he's accepting help from anyone who's free and willing.
He's not quite his usual self. The strain is showing. He almost looks his age.
no subject
He stumbles home and locks himself in, making a beeline for his bedroom and flopping face down onto the mattress. Only then does he reach for his sending stone.
"A-xiong? Do you, do you have a minute? Are you somewhere safe?"
no subject
Anzu was, in fact, sneaking a nap in the library, hidden behind a stack of old almanacs. He answers promptly, though his voice is bleary with sleep.
"Hmm? Nu, darling, I'm ... safe enough, by the library. The infected don't care much for reading, it seems. Why ask'st thou?"
He doesn't just sound half-asleep, he also sounds distinctly relieved to hear Shen Qingqiu — he's been worried. He'd tried contacting Shen Qingqiu earlier with no luck, and had begun to fear the worst. But he's at least trying to sound calm.
no subject
"I'm okay," he belatedly responds. "Well, mostly. I made it home, anyway. I, um...I'm afraid I got infected. Twice." And he knows Anzu is going to hate hearing that, but what else can he do? He's not going to lie to the poor man and make him more upset later when SQQ has to vanish again. Better to rip the bandaid off quickly.
no subject
Anzu sighs, deeply, taking care that it transmits across the link made by the sending stone.
"Darling," he says, wearily. "Nu. At least here, such things are merely ... unpleasant. But thou really ought to be more careful—" he shakes his head, even though he's aware Shen Qingqiu can't see the gesture of disapproval. "But, ah. Maybe when thou'rt a ghost the second time, thou might wish to come see me. I'll be able to see thee, I suspect."
no subject
no subject
"Er, no," Anzu says, and his voice shakes. "He's, ah. Leyb is by Dahlia, by the Leeds mansion. It is ... ah. I am told it is safe. He's ... mentioned some social drama, but. Ah. Nothing ... nothing that would rival what's going on here, nu?"
Anzu knows Lev's likely downplaying whatever trouble is going on by the Leeds estate. Lev would never outright lie to him, but he would in fact frame truth in rather underhanded ways, if only to spare him worry.
no subject
"Please be careful," he adds. "I won't tell you not to do your job, but...this disease is nasty. It's awful. Nobody should have to go through that and I..." He chokes a little. "I don't want to think of it happening to you. So don't let it, okay?"
no subject
Anzu is briefly lost for words, touched by Shen Qingqiu's concern, but also just a little heartsick at the thought of what his friend must've gone through. He sighs.
"I shall be careful, sweetness," he says, softly. "I promise thee. But, ah. Once thou'rt back the second time, do head to the library. Maybe I shall be able to keep thee safe."
no subject
He groans and rolls onto his back. "I really should try and get some sleep," he sighs, sounding like it's a dreadful inconvenience, as if he's not struggling to keep his eyes open at this very moment.
no subject
Anzu tries, mostly with success, to maintain his composure. But he bites his lip with the effort of it. Special, indeed!
"Sleep well, sweetness," he says, softly. "Come see me when thou'rt able. I'll take care of myself. I promise."
no subject
Radar peeks around the corner, a mug of coffee in hand. Uncertain, he holds it out to Anzu. "We got some coffee. Uh, you allowed to have any if the rest of us made it?"
He's got an okay grasp of what's kosher and what isn't from working with Zivia, but sometimes the details still trip him up.
no subject
Anzu raises his head, and then raises both eyebrows at Radar, and smiles in gratitude. He gestures towards the chair next to him, indicating that Radar ought to bring both the coffee and himself.
"On this isle, as long as there's no bacon fat or suet in the coffee, I might as well drink it, nu?" he says. "I prefer tea, outside of times of disaster, but right now ... feh, coffee sounds quite appealing, right now. So ah, thank you, darling. Thou'rt quite a thoughtful young man."
no subject
He peers at the latest book Anzu's studying.
"You found anything good yet?"
no subject
"No need to call me sir, darling," Anzu says, taking the coffee. He sips at it carefully — it's still hot. Not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to feel it warm his thoracic cavity as it travels down. "And if thou can'st find smoked gunpowder tea, both I and mine husband would be most obliged to thee. And we'd brew some for thee, should'st thou want to try it."
He smiles — it's tired and a little drawn, but still warm and charming. Practiced, yes, but sincere nonetheless — he practiced smiling to smile in good faith (but for a time, the mere notion of smiling in good faith seemed like a distant dream).
He glances at the books and sighs.
"Nu, ah. I've found a lot of things I'd have called good two weeks ago," he says. "Right now? Most of what I've found is only dimly relevant, if at all."
no subject
That doesn't sound too safe! Or tasty, for that matter.
"And hey, even if it's only a little relevant maybe it can match up to stuff that's a lot relevant later," he adds with a shrug. "There's gotta be something, right? That guy knew what he was infected with when he showed up -- if he knew what to call it, I bet there's more about it written down somewhere."
no subject
"Hah, no! It's not real gunpowder, dear," Anzu says. "The leaves are merely rolled up into pellets, rather than left unfolded. It's lightly smoked, too, most often."
He shakes his head, as if to shake off a reverie.
"But mind not all of that, right this moment," he says, briskly. "Thou hast the right of it, it's like as not this is a known malady. At least, ah. I hope so."
no subject
Radar's forehead creases with slight worry.
"I mean back home if there was something we didn't know about, we'd talk to the locals, but I don't think even the locals here know what it is really, aside from the new guy."
no subject
Anzu sighs, heavily. He considers, for a good moment or two, lying to Radar. The young man's just so optimistic and fresh-faced, and given his bearing, Anzu guesses he's a recent military recruit. Somehow, he doesn't relish playing any part in the wrecking of someone's youthful optimism.
But he relishes the idea of lying not at all.
"I know not, dearest," he says, at last. "If we find nothing, we'll have to find somewhere else to look. And ah. Nu. Hope. So much of medicine is built on luck and fortunate falls, nu?"
no subject
He's seen it happen plenty. A thousand little pieces need to line up for a surgery to go right. Some days it happens so smooth that nobody notices, but other days, the entire 4077th feels every piece grinding against the other, threatening to slip out of gear at the tiniest mistake. And sometimes, it just straight-up feels like surgeries succeed or fail on a whim. No idea until the very, very end whether a patient will live, even if all the pieces came together just right.
It stinks.
"Wish with all the magic around here, we could count on something a little better than luck."
cn: grim medical imagery
Anzu rubs the bridge of his nose; he suddenly looks old and tired, and more than a little lost.
"Thou'rt right, sweetness, of course," he says, and gives a sad smile. "But magic, magic is as carbolic soap at best. Or those hideous celluloid balls they use to collapse tubercular lungs. A tool. What the two of us hope for here is a nes. A miracle. But miracles are thin on the ground, and often mere wistful thinking."
And privately, he thinks to himself how young Radar is, and how unfair it is that a kid like that has to learn about the unfairness of the world through the army, and through a place like the Isle — a place that feels, more than anything, stillborn. Or at least, not yet breathing, and turning blue.
(no subject)
no subject
"I know I saw mention of 'Thatcher's Blight' in this range of years. It won't tell us much on its own, but once we pin down when outbreaks have occurred, we can narrow down our cross-references."
He remains tactfully silent on Anzu's appearance. Neither of them will be getting any less exhausted until this is over.
no subject
Anzu smiles at Dimitri, and pulls a likely-looking tome from the middle of the stack of almanacs. The rest of the stack wobbles in protest, but in the end holds its shape.
"Excellent thinking, dearest," Anzu says. "We might also look for outbreaks of similar nature, but not identical. If we're lucky, this whole ghastly business isn't merely what this world has in place of influenza and consumption, but still ... even the likes of malaria is more than a single disease, from a certain perspective, nu?"
no subject
"Malaria is ... the one spread by biting gnats, isn't it?" He gives Anzu an apologetic look. "My home has little understanding of illness, and I've never studied it myself."
no subject
"Thou hast the right of it," Anzu says, nodding. "Specifically, ah, malaria is caused by parasites that start their lives within mosquitoes. It's quite difficult to eradicate ... if it were a less complex microbe, and if one had access to penicillin ... but ah, penicillin is something of a luxury."
He bites his lip, aware that he's wandered off-track.
"Depending on the specific subspecies of parasite, malaria can survive in more or less temperate climes, is my point. If we find naught identical, we may yet find something similar. Ah. Im yitzeh HaShem, we may."