epidemiology | semi-open

[ after the world's most useless inbox thread — she returns to the hospital. Lucina can hardly be called a fan of what they have here; while medical advancements seem to be long past what they could handle back at Ylisse, it's nothing like the med tents, either. At least those felt comfortable, in their own way ( they tried to ). These are just sterile. ]

I'm here. [ She should. Probably text him. To let him know she's here. She can hear the irritation in his voice for reasons she hasn't quite pieced together yet, but Lancer isn't the type to get irritated easily; which doesn't exactly bode well. ] Where can I meet you?

Edited 2017-03-04 06:38 (UTC)

[ Don't have to be a modern-day man to find hospitals shitty—he's used to salves and herbs, magic that speeds cells to mending. But none of that is much good against his brain going haywire, so, y'know. Hospital it is. ]

I'm out having a smoke. [ it's the 90s, the nurses are lighting up in the halls, but it's too bustling, crowded with the injured and insane. He could use some fresh air. ] who wants to be around a buncha sick people anyway?

[ just sayin', lucina ]

[ Outside. Which means Lucina stops right at the door way, turn around, and walk right back out; at least no one seems to spare her a second glance. It also doesn't take long to find Lancer at the side of the building. ]

Lancer. [ At least, at first glance, he looks fine. Healthy, with no noticeable injuries. Small blessings, despite what's going on at the moment. ] It's good to see you properly.

Edited 2017-03-05 02:16 (UTC)

[ He's not injured, but fine is a stretch—if she gets close enough, his brows seem heavier, dark shadows cast over his eyes. His skin is paper-white in comparison. Taking in magic (in, frankly, excessive amounts) had staved off the worst of the Zombie Aesthetic for a while, but even that doesn't help forever.

Still, he's not missing any limbs or miscellaneous chunks, and he sits around without an apparent care in the world. Presentation is everything. He turns to her briefly before shrugging aggressively. His words come out clipped. ] I'm not stickin' around long. What'd you wanna talk about?

[ She takes back fine. The closer she gets, the deeper her eyebrows furrow, because — Gods, are spirits supposed to look this awful? Ever? It doesn't make sense, not unless...

It's not exactly an epiphany, but more of a wary thought at the back of her head. One she doesn't dare entertain, just yet ( which is probably suicidal, but that's the best way to keep this interaction as peaceful as possible ). ] I just wanted to check in, given the times.

... It would only make sense that I'd care for my brother's well being.

[ He's in a bad way, but he can rein himself in for now. 'Brother' gets a quick, slanted smile, the best his mood can manage. ]

Well, sis. I've had better days. [ Like, most of them. ] I feel 'bout as good as I look.

[ And he knows it's like he's been through a bender every night he's been out. Still, he's calm when he crushes his cigarette into the gravel, if in a taut-wire way. He should check in too. ] —You're not sick, are you?

[ So ... not that great. Lucina's not going to vocalize it, though, because it's obvious he's self aware. ]

No. [ She shakes her head, because it's a simple enough answer. ] At least, I've felt no... symptoms of the sickness. [ But with that answer, it's startlingly clear that it's probably a terrible idea for her to be here. She won't flee right away, of course, but ...

She's not sure what else to say now, with the truth staring at both of them in the face. ]

[ Well, that's good news. The more of them that get sick, the more quickly it escalates, and that sort of caution is the only thing between them and a bigger endemic.

On the other hand, it kinda blows to be a matter of concern to his own teammates. He waves, as though he could brush the awkwardness away. ]

C'mon, I'm not gonna bite your head off yet. Still workin' on getting to the whole growling and biting bit.

[ Until then—he taps out another cigarette from a dwindling case in his pocket. ] D'you want one?

That's not what I'm— [ And immediately, she's on the defensive, because she knows Lancer, knows that he wouldn't hurt any of their teammates willingly ( or so she believes ). Yet it should be telling her first thought was about how she shouldn't run right away. ] ...

[ Probably guilty as charged. ] We'll find a cure beforehand. [ Said with a certain conviction and desperation. Kind of like how she was going to save her world, no matter what. ]

... I'm alright. [ Unlike Lancer, a cigarette will probably actually kill her. ]

[ One cigarette might kill a baby. Are you a baby, Lucina. No. Anyway, that took his entire reserve of pleasantry—he's been a little low on good cheer recently—and his expression turns sober as he lights up with a tiny flame at his fingertip. No one's gonna notice a little casual magic these days. The imminent downfall of civilization is a bit distracting. ]

Oh yeah, I'm sure you will.

[ He sounds less convinced, and less desperate. Unlike with Dipper, he doesn't exactly feel a need to scrounge around for optimism here. It's harder to do in person anyway.

Maybe that's why he can't help but asking, ]

But let's say you don't. What then?

[ Wow excuse her for trying to stay healthy?? She barely blinks at the flame that lights the cigarette, expression carefully neutral. Lancer's right — there are many more things to worry about than some guy summoning fire at his finger tips.

No one's around, anyway.

The question has her pause — it shouldn't, but she quickly looks away, jaws hard. Her response should be "eliminate the threats" ( it wouldn't be her first time cutting down a comrade ). It had been, up until about 3 minutes ago.

But things get so much more complicated when it gets personal. ] ... We're here to complete the objective, no matter what the cost. [ The implications are still there — she can't trade the life of a friend for the sake of a timeline, no matter how much it breaks her heart. Besides, there are fates worse than death, and the Bristol virus sounds to be one of them; it's the least she could do.

She refuses to think about that now, though ( could she even strike Lancer, if it came down to it— ). ] Still, I have faith in our teammates. A cure will be found.

[ There's something that comes with killing those closest—maybe it's too much to call it strength of character. More like a hardness of heart. And Audentes is wrapped up in softness, bold and brave but only on the easy, beaten path. Sometimes, there are decisions that have to be made ruthlessly, and worn like wounds.

It's good to know where Lucina stands on that spectrum, and though her feelings are plainly visible in the tense lines of her face, his spirits are lifted slightly. He laughs shortly through a mouthful of smoke. ]

Me too.

[ Bleak as the situation is, he's not doubtful of their team's capabilities. ]

But I like knowing who I can count on, when worse comes to worst.

[ A curse, rather than a blessing. The fact that she's had to make the choice in the first place only speaks to the kind of life she had to lead. While Lucina doesn't resent it ( she can't, not when the ends have justified the means ), nothing about it has ever helped her.

But she also understands the place Lancer's coming from — this is a war, in some ways, and they're the soldiers. He's preparing for what could become the worst case scenario; who is she, to deny it?

( While they're not actually siblings, Lucina has an inkling of what Inigo felt when she asked him to wield the Falchion in her place ).

So, Lucina nods. She doesn't look away, however, expression grim at what she's about to promise. ] If worse comes to worst [ Because it won't, she knows it won't, it can't, ] — you have my word.

[ He'd known Lucina as a kind and gracious girl, a good heckling target on their daily dogwalks. But this was different—a warrior's conviction and mercy in the heart of a monarch. Her stubborn hopefulness rings firm, and he looks over to her curiously. ]

Good. Sounds like we got ourselves a deal.

[ A vague one, but the spirit of the matter's there. No need to clarify. He sucks down more smoke to keep from biting into the cigarette filter, jaws tight. A moment later, ]

I wish the kings I'd known were more like you, Princess.

[ He tries to add a teasing lilt to it, but it comes out sounding frank anyway. ]

[ It's not a deal she wants to be making, in the slightest. One based on necessities and against her heart ( wasn't she supposed to be past these, now? ), her jaw tensing all over again at the idea of raising her sword against a friend.

So, she chooses to put the feeling aside with a nod, eyes finally flickering away. She doesn't have anything else to say here, at least not until Lancer speaks again. Briefly, her expression softens, before it morphs into neutrality again. ]

That's quite the statement. [ Especially when she'll never be king; but that's just details. She doesn't thank him for the compliment, instead letting silence fill the air again — only this time, she's the one who breaks it. ]

Once all of this is over — will you tell me of the world you hail from?

[ His friends here are no laughing matter, and he praises them where they're due. But he's grateful that they don't linger on talk of ruling—his moods are tempestuous enough already. And the longer she stays, the harder it is for him to sit still, to keep his focus on smoking, talking, thinking (or anything that isn't blood, meat, bones—) but he responds stubbornly. He rubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, putting on a small, strained smile. ]

Sure.

[ Nevermind they might not even get to that point. He's okay assuming they will, for now. ]

It's a date.

[ It's the certainty of the answer, one that comes without hesitation despite the strain in his smile, that lets her relax. Lucina can't ask for much else — not in this situation, with these circumstances and outlooks; so she'll take what she can get.

( Luckily, her character development includes not flinching in embarrassment at the saying "it's a date". ) ] I'll hold you to that.

[ They need to go, she can tell he needs to go. She struggles to find the proper words to say in farewell, eventually settling for: ] ... Stay safe, Lancer.

[ Hopefully, that will do. ]

semi-open

just makes this its own top level ig

how very dare

meh

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i was gonna go to sleep but then you tagged

don't worry i'm dead now, i'll never bug you again

don't die we still need murder

is that all i am to you

no . . . but that's one of them

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