6th [Audio/Commentlog]
[It's early Wednesday before Alex has the recollection to post onto his journal. In truth, it was rather one of the last things on his mind currently, but he had a need to assure those that might be concerned that he was alright
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>^_^< :: *while doing nothing much at all, Alex notes that he unfortunately does not always wear his fur coat and society demands pants*
>^_^< :: I, purrsonally, think they are over-rated.
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:33 < *ac frisks about on top of a low wall befur scampering off to pilfur all the pants!*
:33 < *ac purrposes to make line her den with them beclaws clearly that's what they're best fur*
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>^_^< :: *alex creeps purrposely after ac, stalking the pant thief.*
>^_^< :: *upon consideration, alex decides a bed of pants is a purrfectly good idea!*
>^_^< :: have you ever slept on silk? or Alpaca wool? those would make the best pant piles!
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Poor Equius seems to have recently fallen to a certain zombie disease. Aside from being drenched in sweat and breathing through ragged huffs and growls like some beast, he doesn't seem to visibly different from his usual angry self. So far.]
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It's a shame things won't go as well as he might have hoped; but then, do they ever?
He's on his way to the library, figuring it's as good a place as any other to hole up until he knows if he's sick or not, when he spies Equius hunched over in the hall. The breathing of the individual, who looks rather similar to Sollux and Nepeta, but isn't either of the two, gives the leopard a moment of concern.]
Hey .. you alright?
[A moment to late the others' scent reaches the distracted were .. and there is a definite sickness to it. He curses silently and begins to back away..]
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Without an answer, unless you consider a loud growling yell an answer, the troll takes off in a full sprint towards the stranger. Keeping his head low and using his arms to push himself even faster across the floor.
Equius isn't much of a conversationalist.]
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He is still facing Equius when he charges, and so he moves to shift .. only it doesn't work. For whatever reason, be it the full moon or the new virus coursing freely in his body, he is unable to shift into either feline or were forms.
So he does the only thing he can under the circumstances, he turns and runs, bare feet slapping against the stone floors. He might have done rather well, accustomed to running in any of his forms, but for the bare foot part. As he reaches the turn in the hall ahead, he misjudges his cornering and his feet skid on the stone and he slips. He hits hard on his left hip, already up and moving, but at a slower pace as he grimaces through the pain.
Was this what the others had felt like when he'd chased them?]
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I know .. I'm sorry .. Kloe's missive went out and people started getting frazzled. I went by your room, but you weren't there.. I .. I should have gone looking for you guys, but I didn't..
Next moon, for sure .. I'd rather not do it alone if I don't have to ..
[He'd woken weaker than normal .. the letter from Deior and finding he was trapped outside had certainly informed him well enough as to why that could be.]
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It's fine. Just know we're here for you, all right? We've got your back.
[Her tone is warm.]
Next full moon, then.
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I know you are and I appreciate it more than you know, Chloe ..
[He's smiling now, the motion echoed in his voice.]
You better believe it.
[For Derek .. Chloe was still being locked in the kitchen.]
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... No. I haven't been since this mess began. I'm a healer. How can I lock myself away when I might be able to help?
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For not only has the virus taken its toll, the were has a rather life threatening pair of puncture wounds to his side that he's got slowed only with the pressure from his hands.
Let alone that whole punctures lung thing .. yeah, breathing was a bit harder than normal.]
An .. ders .. could .. use .. you- .. your help..
[It's not quite a sob, but it's close to one. It's clear something's terribly wrong..]
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[And he will. As quickly as possible.]
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[And there he'll be waiting in a pretty dramatic pool of his own blood with some of Equius' thrown in for good measure, wearing a pair of pants and not much else. His journal sits on the ground next to him, bloodied with handprints on its pages and binding. His left forearm is bleeding from a bite wound that is bleeding sluggishly. The worst, by far, are the stabs wounds to his side, spaced a short distance apart, the openings ragged as the internal organs. Something important was stabbed or ripped open, the blood from the wound dark.
Alex is pale, hands pressed to the wounds in a desperate attempt to still the loss of blood. He knew it was bad. He knew it was very bad.]
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