I'm only joking

[battlefront]

Who: Cloud and YOU
Where: Outside the mansion, in the gardens.
When: 11/15
Rating: PG-13 for language and allusions to body horror, body rot, nasty things
Summary: Cloud had a teeny tiny episode in the garden and has been in a coma for four days.
The Story: Time is a funny thing. A concept that loses meaning in the face of grander events, when the whole wide world comes crashing down and you have a small timeframe to save it. Or maybe it's an estimate of how much longer you'll even be on the world at all. Five years feels like ten minutes. Another year feels like five.

He doesn't know how long it is before he can see again, face buried within the weird, unnatural flowers that fix themselves, that move away from him as he shuffles. Flowers were alive, but not that much. A weird world. Weird rules. Some of them coated with a horrible-smelling black stench--

Ah.

His head's pounding. It must've happened again. The smell's coming from him. Smeared on his face and his arm is drenched in it, though most of it has long-since dried up. The arm's still shaking, though, his other hand laid over it in a vain attempt to put pressure on the pain.

What a fucking mess.

It doesn't sound like anyone's around, though. And the light's stabbing through his vision, making the headache worse. So he closes his eyes again, laying it back down, trying to control his breathing. He'll... get up in a few minutes, wash himself off before anyone sees. Too much effort at the moment.

Comments

[didntknowbest]

Toriel is taking a small little break to enjoy the gardens. Sunlight, flowers, fresh air... it's a nice thing to help her relax a bit.

Then she sees Cloud, sprawled on the ground and looking like he's in pain, covered in that weird black stuff that she saw beneath his bandages, and it immediately becomes apparent that this isn't going to be relaxing at all.

"Oh my goodness- are you alright???" She comes running over quickly, eyes darting to his chest, to make sure it's still rising and falling- still breathing. Still alive. Her hand moves over to his arm, where he showed her last time, hovering over it and glowing green, in an attempt to assuage any pain he might be in.

[battlefront]

And part of him was hoping he could just nod right off again and sleep the headache away.

His hearing was still muffled, but he could hear footsteps approaching in the grass - slow at first, then quickening over to his location. Cloud gives a small, irritated grunt as his head turns in the brush, but he knows it's too late at this point. Someone's found him, probably going to fuss over him. He just hopes they don't come in contact with anything before he can tell them not to, that it's too dangerous.

The voice registers in his mind just as he feels the magic come. He tries blinking his eyes open again, green and slitted for just a second before they return to normal, turning to the figure above him.

"...t kinda _dizz..."

Oh. That came out... very hoarse. Just how long had he been laying here?

"S'fine. Gettin' up."

A couple minutes pass, but he doesn't make much of an effort to.

[didntknowbest]

"Please, do not try and move." He doesn't sound good, or look good- Toriel is fairly sure that human eyes do not usually do whatever it is that they just did.

She already knows her healing doesn't heal this. If it helps at all. He isn't getting up, despite his apparent decision to do so. For all she knows, he could be dying right now, and she can't do anything on her own.

She needs to call for help, pulling her phone out with her other hand- her hand shakes a little, having to retry calling once or twice before trying to call Ford- hopefully, he has some way of assisting by now.

[battlefront]

"What... what're you... _doing...?"

She has a phone out, trying to call someone. Calling-- she promised, didn't she? She promised she wouldn't tell anyone. So despite himself, how heavy his body was feeling and his pulsing, pounding head, he starts to drag himself away from her touch. He's making a mess over the flowers and he doesn't care, he--

She promised.

"Don't. Please don't." It sounds miserable. Pathetic.

[didntknowbest]

Toriel gives him an apologetic look- but she's not putting the phone down. She knew he'd be unhappy, but... she'd rather not just let him die.

Unfortunately, she winds up getting the answering machine, and immediately grimaces. She doesn't have time to leave a message. "Damn... Okay, just... please stop moving. Unless moving helps. But I do not think that is how diseases generally work." She really doesn't know anything, as she moves over to follow him, continuing to try and heal, trying not to show how panicked she's getting. How familiar this suddenly feels.

[battlefront]

He doesn't want to tell her just how bad it really is.

This... mess. It's body rot. It's his insides rejecting the stigma and it's all a war that's destroying more than it's helping. He'd read up on countless books about it, researched it so much, desperate for a cure. But there is none. There is no helping. And it was stupid enough telling her about it in the first place because now he's just gone and worried more people.

Now he has to run again. Because maybe they'll move on. Maybe they'll eventually just forget about him.

She puts the phone away and his breath tightens, body protesting against the sudden movement, after however long he'd probably been laying there. Just... a few more minutes and he can stand. He can leave. And maybe she will, too.

"It happens. It'll pass."

[didntknowbest]

"That does not matter. Just because it has happened before does not make it okay."

She doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know what's wrong, and right now, it is so, so much worse than it was when she saw him the first time.

Toriel doesn't have a single clue of what to do. It may not be a child this time, but this young man is still too young to die. She doesn't want to have to watch another person slip away from a disease she doesn't understand. She can't.

[needlebearer]

When Arya sees Cloud passed out in the garden, she's not sure at first if he's dead. The smell is overpowering and takes her back to Harrenhal, the smallfolk left dead and decomposing for days after the Tickler had finished with them. There's something unfamiliar about the stench at the same time, though, and he doesn't look dead... It occurs to her that with the resurrection that Wonderland seems to give them, there should be no reason for a body to be out here at all.

Crouching down next to him, she peers down curiously at him, poking at him with a stick to see if he'll wake.

[battlefront]

"Don't."

It comes before he even stirs fully, futility brushing a hand against the grass in a half-hearted attempt to get the person to stop. He just... needs to lay here for a few minutes, get his bearings. It's probably just Yuffie, anyway.

[needlebearer]

She pauses, rocking back on her heels and watching him closely, but when it's clear he isn't going to get up she pokes him again, a little gentler this time. "You can't be comfy laying out here."

[battlefront]

"Sure it is."

No, it's not. He's certain he fell overtop some roses, too. The thorns dig into his other arm and he shuffles it a bit, trying not to make more of a mess than it already is.

"S'fine. Need a min."

[needlebearer]

"Were you attacked?" She decides persisting with questions is a good option, in the hope of keeping him talking and keeping him from passing out again.

[battlefront]

Now there's a question with a complicated answer. Technically, yes? But not really. He just kinda... assumed he'd collapsed in the dirt again, as he's wont to do.

"Nah. Jus' a little sick. I'm fine, promise."

[postictal]

Tim's never seen Cloud in person, having only interacted with him via text. But he knows enough to know when someone's having a rough time, and the guy he stumbles across on the garden looks a bit like he's...seizing, honestly. Tim knows the signs. He recognizes the calling cards.

Oozing an oily black fluid isn't really one of those symptoms. Tim doesn't dare draw near enough to touch it, but he drops into a crouch near the guy's prone form, warily.

The steady rise and fall of his chest proves that he's breathing. So that's...good, right?

"Hey," says Tim. Then, louder, sharper, "hey. You okay there, buddy?"

[battlefront]

His arm tenses up and convulses and his hand only grips it tighter as he breathes a short gasp of pain. It's... not as bad as the usual spells he gets, but his entire body still feels sluggish for some reason. He must have been laying here awhile.

It's not even the pain itself that's an issue. People see him in the brush, someone's coming over, calling out to him and he can barely get his voice to work enough to tell them not to move him. Because then they'll touch it. Because then they'll get sick, too. They'll rot from the inside out and seizure and vomit and no, no he can't have that.

The voice is loud, sends a sharp, stabbing pain through his skull and he winces.

"Just got a little dizzy."

It's hoarse and quiet and comes out in a mumble. Probably not very reassuring, but whatever. He's alive.

[postictal]

"You got a little dizzy."

The repetition of the words is flat and dull, a spike of disbelief levered at the obvious lie. He doesn't need to pick apart the other guy's words to know that it's bullshit. It's utter bullshit. He's far from all right.

"And then you took a bath in some tar pits, is that it?"

[battlefront]

"...tar... pit--?"

He opens his eyes a bit. There's black splattered over the flowers and all down his face and neck and it's everywhere, absolutely everywhere. There's another stab of pain as his eyes momentarily flick to green, pupils slitted for just a brief second before they all return to normal again. It smells just as awful as it always does.

He. He had an attack out here, didn't he? Fuck.

"Ah."

Fantastic.

"...don't... touch it."

Cloud just. Lays his head back down with a sigh. Please don't fuss over this, please just go.

[postictal]

"Wasn't gonna, but thanks." The droll responses snap up automatically, before his brain can really catch up to what it is he's looking at - the way the guy's eyes blaze green and then not again.

He's having trouble figuring what the guy's deal is, exactly, but hey - he's kinda got some time to adjust to things being a little different across different world.

"Seriously, man. You, uh...need some help there? Maybe some water?"

[battlefront]

"Told you. It's fine."

Except not really. His legs shift a little as if he's trying to move to stand, but he doesn't get further than a slight shuffle in the bed of flowers. Moving causes more pain, more discomfort, and the vertigo's keeping him rooted to the garden.

Heh.

Nothing about this is funny.

He sighs a little and closes his eyes again, not taking his hand off the mass on his left arm. He needs to move, clean up, get away from people. But none of that is going to be happening, is it?

"Don't need to see this."

[plutonicideals]

Riley loves the gardens. She really, really does. It helps her relax and she always enjoys the fresh air. She doesn't normally expect to see anyone in Cloud's position, and that's why she's rushing to his side when she notices him.

"H-Hey!"

[battlefront]

What a mess.

He's not used to having these attacks out where anyone could find him easily. There was a time in the Wastelands, with monsters, that he'd woken up to clawing and biting on one of his arms, or starting to be dragged away as he was still trying to wake up. But not people. He's not sure how to react when people find him.

So Cloud just. Groans a bit, pressing his face against the dirt more and hoping whoever it is just moves on.

[plutonicideals]

She rushes to his side, her hands hovering over him as she tries to think about what to do here.

"Do you need any help? What should I do?"

[battlefront]

Of all people he wanted - or lack thereof - to have to walk in on this mess, it had to be her. Not every world is as gritty and terrible as theirs, and he isn't sure he has the mental capacity to be able to explain the situation well enough.

So just. Bullshit for the time being.

"Just felt a lil' sick. Don' worry."

He doesn't even open his eyes as he speaks.

[plutonicideals]

"Do you think you can sit up?" Though it sounds hesitant, primarily because she isn't sure if that would just make things worse or not. "I could get you some water...?"

This is hard. But she wants to try.

[battlefront]

Sound is still a little fuzzy, and his primary instinct is to just get this person away from the mess that's probably all over the brush, but he still shifts his head towards her, struggling to pull his eyes open against the blinding sunlight.

Water. It... it might be okay. If she doesn't touch him. Maybe just dump him in the fountain again or something. Heh.

That's a little morbid.

"Water-- yeah. Yeah. Okay."