Incurable Cough of Death *OTA*

[mongrelverine]

It had started with a headache. Daken had woken up and felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to the inside of his head all night. That had been most unusual to being with, but not unheard of. With heightened senses, some sensory overload was to be expected at certain points. With all the stubbornness of a true feral, he simply ignored it and

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[captaine_sykes]

Ethan's worst fears were only being confirmed as he walked through camp, it was easy to see, even when certain people were putting on a front, that there was something wrong in camp. The Spokane incident was currently incredibly low on his list of worries seeing as now it was looking more and more likely that Ethan's team were sick.

Seriously sick.

But he couldn't go saying anything until he'd gotten confirmation, which meant he was trying to keep the information to himself and not cause a panic in camp. Heading into the library Ethan paused as he heard poorly concealed coughs. Following the noise he finds Daken, the one person e'd been hoping to find... but not in this condition.

"Please tell me you are faking it."

[mongrelverine]

"I'm not--" Daken tried unsuccessfully to stifle the cough that had come over him. It only made it more painful. He was sure a rib was going to be dislodged next. Finally giving in, he got the current bit of mucus out of his system with a few more coughs.

He spat whatever it was out of his mouth and onto the ground before finishing lamely. "--I'm not sick." If he had bothered to look at the mucus that had come up, he would have been alarmed but not unsurprised to see the smallest fleck of blood mixed in.

"I don't get sick." He said by way of explanation. Ethan was going to have to forcibly drag Daken into the sick bay. Knocking him out beforehand wasn't a bad idea either.

[captaine_sykes]

Ethan doesn't even bother with formalities or respecting personal space (not that Daken knows anything about that kind of thing) and reaches over, placing the back of his hand across Daken's forehead. The feral is warm, too warm and clammy to the touch as well.

Settling in the chair opposite Daken Ethan braces his elbows on his knees and levels a stern, but concerned, look at the mutant. "I think your body is telling you otherwise. Daken, you need to go to the medical bay. This is serious."

He's not sure just how much to let on, does he tell Daken it can be fatal from the reports? Or does he just make out that the guy will be sick and hope for the best? Ethan really needs to see Emma too and discuss what the hell needs to be done.

[mongrelverine]

Ethan's hand feels cool and Daken instinctively leans into the touch before remembering himself and irritably swatting it away. "And do what? Lie there while the nice doctors cluck their tongues sympathetically while being able to do jack shit for me?"

There was clear defiance on Daken's face. It was an easier emotion to latch onto then the one buried deep within himself. For the smallest part of Daken was rightly scared. Anything that could get through his natural defenses and leave him feeling practically helpless like this was powerful and dangerous. That meant it could even be deadly.

Ethan's few words hadn't registered anything on Daken's built-in lie detector. Still, looking at his face, he felt like Ethan was hiding something. "What--" Another coughing fit interrupted him. "--what aren't you telling me?"

[psychoempath]

Going to bed with a slight headache Olivia had thought she'd be able to sleep it off. When she woke up with a plugged nose and feeling like she had been run over by a train she hadn't been particularly worried-she had gotten sick before, her immune system still worked like any other person's unless she put her mind to it.

The fact that she hadn't been able to cure herself was slightly annoying and a little more worrying.

So she had taken to the library, trying to find some sort of book that could provide an answer. Not that she would go and ask someone, it was just a cold after all. When someone coughed right behind the shelf she was currently staring at she dropped a book on her foot and, muttering curses under her breath, she peeked around to see who was in here.

"Great. You look how I feel."

[mongrelverine]

Daken was in no mood to be around anyone at the moment. Being a sick hermit suited him just fine. He shot a glare in Olivia's direction, as if she were to blame for everything that had gone wrong with him since he had first woken up with the splitting pain in his skull.

He didn't even bother coming back with a biting sarcastic remark. That in itself was alarming.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I feel fine." His voice came out a hoarse rasp, worn out from all the coughing it had been doing for the past two days. Sickness was a weakness. A weakness could be exploited and taken advantage of by other people. Weakness was not allowed. Therefore, Daken was not allowing himself to be sick. Simple as that.

[psychoempath]

Liv's view of the world was easy enough. If someone didn't want to be bothered by an annoyed redhead they shouldn't be where she was. Her eyebrow arched up at Daken's remark, he might as well deny having a mohawk.

"Of course, you are fine. Say, do you always look like someone threw you up? And I'm sure those sounds you were just making are part of your mutation. What do you do, let your chest implode or something?"

That headache was getting worse and she didn't know if it was another symptom of whatever flu she had caught or the familiar side effect of straining herself too much using her mutation. No matter how hard she tried she could only get rid of the side effects for a little while and that was unusual.

[mongrelverine]

Daken glared at her from the chair he was sitting in. If only looks could have killed, Olivia would have been stone cold dead in an eye blink. "I'd get up to make you die in an extremely short and unpleasant manner, but it's not worth the time and effort."

Another outburst of coughing stifled any other remarks Daken might have been planning to make. As he struggled to breathe, his thoughts turned angry and frustrated. Goddammit, if this is what getting sick felt like, he was sure he'd rather be dead than experience it on a regular basis. How the human race didn't decrease dramatically every time there was a new flu virus was beyond his understanding.

[proper_twinkie]

It was funny that was where he went to hide since she had the same idea. Of course, since Betsy wasn't exactly what one would call a reader, and she assumed that most of the team wouldn't be either, she wasn't expecting to find anyone there. The irony was that she was going there to escape the sick people.

For the last few days, the base had been slowly sinking into this sniveling mucus filled wave of grumbling. She didn't want to hear it. She was damn close to wearing a face mask because while she had no issue with wearing another person's blood, entrails at her feet, the sound of a skull cracking, or even the smell of vomit but when it came to sick people? Well, there was a reason she avoided the Med Bay like the plague. It was a borderline phobia.

So when she walked in to not only find another sick person but a sick feral that shouldn't ever BE sick, she immediately brought her shirt up over her nose and mouth. "You've got to be kidding me. Even you?"

[mongrelverine]

Wiping his mouth off after yet another spasm-inducing fit of coughing, Daken just stared at Betsy with something akin to dull surprise on his face. Was there nowhere on this base he could suffer in silence without having someone eventually invading his space?

"If you don't want to get contaminated, the door is that way." He waved his hand towards the front of the room. "Feel free to use it and leave me to my misery." His voice sounded like it had been rubbed over a few times with a large sheet of sandpaper. Shutting his eyes, he laid his head back down at the table he was sitting at, not caring if Betsy had actually left or not.

[proper_twinkie]

"Why are you here? Obviously, you never get sick. What makes you think this is something you can simply weather? I know you are smarter than this so it must be ego. Either that or you're afraid they'd let you die. Better to die on your own terms, yes?" She continued moving cautiously closer. Just because she didn't want to get sick didn't mean she would let him kill himself

[mongrelverine]

"If you're so damn smart and already have all the answers, why even bother asking me?" There was a growl and snarl very reminiscent of his father as he opened his eyes back up. One day, this camp was going to get a completely subordinate woman who would only speak when she was spoken to. Daken could only hope it would come sooner.

Daken resisted the tug on his arm, staring at Betsy's hand. The low raspy tone in his voice managed to drop down even further as he turned to stare at this presumptuous female. "I suggest you remove your hand if you wish for it to remain attached to your body." His claws slid out. "I don't know. Hold still so I can find out." He wasn't really in the mood to hurt anyone, but his attitude was running rampant and unchecked while sick.