epidemiology | (no subject)

[ The heavy aura probably comes with the apartment at this rate. It might not be to the same extent as the actually sick, but the restless feeling has definitely spread to Sigma in other ways. Being cooped up inside, knowing what lies outside, seeing it all at the mall, it's impossible to ignore that that's what's waiting for everyone if they didn't hurry up. Waiting for her. ]

[ She isn't anywhere near stark raving like the infected at the mall though, so sitting across from her isn't quite the stupidest idea he could have just yet. Besides, couch is broken. He does his best to leave her to her own devices and keep reading for himself while she kicks around, but when she lunges to her feet, he flinches just about as sharply as the cat. ]

[ Recovery comes quick as soon as she starts to make for the door. ]

Okay. [ Alone may be implied, but ultimately ignored, if the way he pops up and likewise slings his coat over an arm is anything to go by. Scampering matter-of-factly to meet her, wanted or not. ]

[ She doesn't even notice him at first — barely registers the answer, takes it for granted that he'll be staying as she'd want him to. But by the time she makes it to the bedroom door, it's settled into her mind that he's up and with a coat. She pauses there, and the look that finds him from over his shoulder isn't quite pleased.

She should be pleased — this is fine, this is something she should want. Company. More than that, loyalty. It's good, she should reward that. But god is she not in the mood for it. ]

No, alone.

[ It's a nice as she can manage. She doesn't wait to see if the command will stick — she doesn't have time. She pulls open the door and stalks for the front hallway, pulling the coat on as she goes. ]

[ Maybe he'd let her go on her way if she could just have intentions of skulking up and down the hallway to work off her temper, but walk means out, and with the way things are breaking down, out and alone aren't two options you can plug in at once anymore. And maybe Ramir doesn't have anyone to worry about, but that's not the problem here. ]

[ Steadfastly, he pursues her through the door, not quite right on her heels but pretty darn close. ]

C'mon, buddy system, remember?

[ It takes an effort to mute the worry in his tone and replace it with enough softness not to set her off, but enough firmness to not be brushed away. ]

[ He's not leaving. And that's for the best for several reasons, she knows that, but she doesn't want to know it. Cold air hits like a gasp and she bows her head into it. If there's one good thing (several, actually) about Sigma refusing to stop following her, it's that she can leave the door swinging wide open in her wake and trust him to close and lock it.

In the meantime she hits the sidewalk, hands pocketed and head ducked against the chill, made no better for nighttime darkness. She listens for Sigma's footsteps behind her, half in anticipation and half with irritation.

The air isn't clearing her head quite like she'd hoped it would, but... she's just started. She'll give it a little time. ]

Edited 2017-03-21 04:55 (UTC)

[ He's not. And he's good for locking the door behind her. Which puts him a bit behind her quick, purposeful strides, but once he's got things all latched up, he's skittering back to her side. ]

[ Not quite exactly to her side. Beside her, perhaps a step behind, but he'll leave a healthy distance between them where the sidewalk allows. Walking alone might be out of the question, but that doesn't mean she can't walk solo. Like two gymsters falling in stride with one another on the track, both with their own set of headphones insulating them into their own little worlds. ]

[ ... God, he can respect alone time, but this stings like a motherfucker. He can't turn back, but he probably isn't helping whatever she's got on her mind. Hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, he leaves his eyes on his shoes as he walks, letting her lead them in whatever aimless direction she pleases. ]

[ But they aren't going to get a full lap around wherever without a quiet, eventual, ] How's it going?

[ She almost, almost could have forgotten he was there, until he spoke. Then the reminder comes back with another spike of irritation — which she makes herself swallow, just the way she's done all day. It doesn't go down very easily, but it does subside somewhat. ]

Not good. It's bad today.

[ Her voice is lower, rougher than usual, and her gaze stays ahead of her. He might like to hear a lie better, but she knows it's not what he wants. But she can at least hold back that it's the worst she's felt yet, that she doesn't know how much longer she really has. She can do that much.

There's a playground ahead and to the left. Empty, of course. She veers for it suddenly, passing into crunching snow from the mostly cleared sidewalk as she heads for it. ]

Edited 2017-03-21 05:37 (UTC)

[ Him and his big, unhelpful mouth. ]

[ It isn't what he wants to hear, and it definitely doesn't sound well. That doesn't help the sting that's twisted itself into anxious knots in his chest. But at least it's honest... That's about all that's left at this point. ]

Is there anything... [ The rest of his sentiment runs aground under the sound of crunching snow as he follows her off the sidewalk. Of course there isn't, there's nothing left but waiting. He's always there for a hug if it gets too nasty tonight, but there's only so much oxytocin a body can make, and there's only so much it can suppress. ] ... I can be quiet too. That's something I can do, shut up.

[ You're doing plenty just being here, is what she wants to say. And he is. She hates that he's going through this -- but admires that he's still doing it. It's all the loyalty she could ask for. But as she walks with her eyes on the slide and swing set ahead of them, the words don't come.

She feels -- distant, strangely. She can hear the snow crunching underfoot, but she's not sure she can feel the biting cold of it through her boots anymore. Her body is still walking like it's on autopilot, and a great unease begins to trickle in.

Ramir doesn't answer Sigma. She stops at one of the bars of the swing set and sets a hand on it, then her forehead. She can just barely feel the coolness of it under her skin. She grows still there, silent and staring at nothing in particular, with the faint awareness that her breathing is growing a little more rapid and her pulse has spiked. ]

[ He takes her lack of response as appreciation, maybe. Probably. Possibly. Either way, he'll do as he says, wandering like a shadow toward the playground equipment. ]

[ When she pauses to rest against one of the metal poles, a chill somewhere beyond the damp cold slowly begins to creep down the length of his spine, but he stands silent. Watching the back of her head with a growing sense of worry. Her name sits heavy in the back of his throat, scared to disturb the silence, but dreading the way her breath is suddenly coming in bursts. ]

[ He should back off. Hell, he should probably book it, by all rights, but he's plenty stupid enough to hold his ground. But after a good minute, he can't help crunching a few more steps forward. ]

Hey, we should head back, [ almost whispered as he reaches tentatively for a shoulder. Maybe if she just concentrates on reining it in, he can... steer her home. He can carry her if he has to. ]

[ She can hear him, but distantly. And when she feels (barely) that touch at her shoulder, she sees more than feels herself tilt her head toward it.

Her chest is tight, her breathing is short, she can't quite get enough air -- and while she'd distracted with that, her hand has fallen on Sigma's. It finds his wrist with a superhuman grip, the kind she never uses on him, and she pulls him forward even as she turns to meet him.

She's just hungry, she's so fucking hungry -- and she knows it's all in her mind, she's even been taking some grim satisfaction in denying her ballooned appetite the extra it demands -- but now it's all she can think of. Her face is blank and her eyes don't quite find Sigma's as she meets him, but her other hand certainly finds the neck of his coat. It finds that unerringly, grip tight like a vice on the fabric as she pulls him down to her height.

He's always smelled so good, she's always loved that. Today he smells good in a sickening way, and all she can think of is steak, rare. ]

[ Small blessings, his wrist being made of titanium, but there are still pressure sensors in his ABT. Even with the pain lancing up his arm, it takes him a half second too long to register the vicelike grip clamping on; caught off guard, even if he really shouldn't have been. It doesn't matter whether she can make eye contact or not as she drags him down, everything's gone momentarily fuzzy, her blankly ravenous stare into his collar slipping out of focus as he's hit with his first real stone cold dose of fear. ]

[ And then everything snaps into 1080p and downshifts a gear, adrenaline spiking like a prey animal's. He clamps the free hand on her shoulder proper, instinctively pressing her back away from his throat. It feels like trying to push a soft, brick, lead-lined, steel-reinforced wall. ]

Ramir, [ he finally manages, his own breath slipping into a panic, ] Ramir. Come on, snap out of it. You're still here, you're fine, you're good, let's just... go home, okay? Let's go home and...

[ He can't even tell if the words are getting through or if it's just even more aggravating noise, but he can't help it. This isn't a grip that can be fought out of if it decides to commit. ]

Ramir?

[ She watches herself resist his push without even noticing it, eyes locking onto that gap of skin between jaw and the neck of his coat. Her hand tightens its grasp on jacket, turning to pull down the fabric a little more. It's twisted, tightened, it can't be comfortable for him.

She's not thinking about that, though. She isn't thinking about anything except a mouthful of food.

Ramir lunges forward all at once, mindless when she opens her mouth and bites down on that exposed skin, the same she's kissed so many times before. There's no tenderness in it now, just a frantic craving. Blood fills her mouth almost immediately, shockingly coppery, warmer than she expected. But god, it's so fucking good. ]

[ He winces as she digs her fingers all the harsher into his collar, dragging him in despite his comparatively feeble protests against her shoulder. This is it, isn't it. No matter how many pleas he can cram into the space between lock-on and strike, it doesn't soften the blow. In the next heartbeat between them, she's tearing into his neck like it's warm bread. ]

[ And somehow, it leaves him silent, air hissing past the clamp around his throat in a noiseless rush of a scream. It leaves his lungs emptied, and efforts to fill them like knives in his chest, stunned into breathless shock as blood spills hot and wet down the cold front of his jacket. Or maybe he is screaming. Maybe it just takes him a second to catch up to exactly what's happening. ]

[ By the time his fingers manage to knot into the back of her hair and pull, he's definitely screaming. Finally, instincts and reflexes dig past girlfriend and into the threat she's become. Kicking, crying, begging, she's going to eat him alive if she doesn't snap out of it. ]

Ramir, stop! Please!

[ His voice is just noise in her ears for too long, and in the meantime her jaws close again, crushing, grinding. The taste is everything she'd hoped it would be, and absolutely revolting.

She's horrifically aware that she needs to stop, she needs to stop now, but it isn't until his plea finally sinks in that she connects need to action. She lets go and draws back, hands still busy with his wrist and the neck of his coat, gaze hovering on the bloody mess she's made just a few inches away from her face.

The mess that she's made. She did that. She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling like she's struggling through the sluggishness of a dream to claw her way back into her own mind. But she can't pull away entirely, not yet, and it's all she can do not to tear in for a second, deeper bite. ]

[ With his eyes screwed shut on the inevitable, he can't even pinpoint the moment she releases her hold. There's nothing but pain throbbing through his neck, up behind his eyes, everything wound up tight and helpless and writhing to get away. So when the realization breaks through, he still isn't thinking, survival just as guilty of shutting down everything but flight as the virus is of fight. ]

[ His eyes shoot open, and before he can register the look of resistance tangled up in her face--anything not real, anything to kill the appetite, anything to wake her the hell up--he lets go of her and wedges his arm between them, jamming his forearm against her mouth if those teeth so much as snip for him again. ]

Ramir!

[ He sounds like a broken record, but she needs to come back. It's still her, just come back! ]

[ She's losing time again, the way she had between reaching the swing set and finding Sigma's neck in her mouth — this time she jumps in to find that she's instinctively bitten down on the arm thrust in her face. But the taste of it isn't right, and maybe that's what brings her to the surface again. It's not like steak, it's just wrong. Irritation, kept these days at a low boil and just waiting to flow over, does just that.

Sne snarls, hands both clamping down on his arm, and she twists. Not to have it off, although some part of her knows she easily could, but to toss him away, get rid of that disgusting taste. With one hand at his wrist and the other at his shoulder she flips him easily over, sending him back toward the slide set up not far off with a disgusted shove. ]

[ The pain that punches through his arm is just as real, but at least it isn't real blood being lost this time. That seems to have revolted her before reaching metal bone... as well as revolted her enough to send him flying. Downside up, upside down, a crack of white across his vision that isn't the snow matching a dull but formidable plastic thud, reverberating through the snow-laden slide as Sigma smashes against it, crumpling into a dazed heap. ]

[ The thud dissolves into a muffled ringing as autopilot straightens arms against ground, levering his face out of what looks like a cherry-flavored snowcone. Before he can really negotiate pushing the appropriate parts of his body into a sit, everything begins listing to the left. When he catches himself on an elbow, the seconds before this come rushing back, in little more than a wave of away, away, away, and eventually, where he has to get. ]

[ He stumbles up, somehow involving his feet for a good handful of steps as he ducks under the slide to escape before the world tilts on him again, like the deck of a ship. It puts him down like a seasick toddler, floundering back face to ground, bleeding bleeding bleeding all the while. Where's Ramir? His legs are broken. His legs are fucking broken. Or they aren't working, anyway. The legs probably aren't the root of the problem here. ]

Fuck— [ is about all he can spit out before the rest of his stubborn body slumps to its side in the trampled slushy mess he's made of the lawn. ]

[ She's horrified, sickened, wracked with guilt and miserable, and it takes her the five slowest seconds in the world to finally piece together her reasoning and figure out why. The instant she has is when she stumbles, landing hard in the snow and immediately retching. When she wipes a hand across her mouth it comes away red, and she knows it isn't her blood. ]

Sig — [ Her voice cracks. She looks up from her crouch in the snow with a bitten lip, eyes widen. She'd... thrown him, god, what if he snapped his neck on something and died? What if that lady before was just a precursor? ] Sigma?

[ She's up on her feet then, starting after him. She has to know if he's alright, has to know what she's done to him... ]

Hey, Sigma, are you... [ She ducks around the slide and spots him, and freezes once again. God. God that's a lot of blood, he doesn't look alright. ]

[ If it's any sort of morbid comfort, breath is coming to him in hard, chest-heaving gasps; in spite of the blood, life is still very much clinging to him. If it isn't obvious enough, when her voice carries around the slide, he shifts in a desperate attempt to sit up. Sit up and push away, with a fair bit more success than he was having a minute ago. Dragging himself out of his rut and skittering all the way onto fresh snow before folding over backwards feet and seconds later, hugging the back of his head and staring up at the sky as it tries to pull a cartwheel overhead. It's borderline nauseating in itself. Not everything's quite wired up anymore. ]

[ But even though it takes a while longer to notice, all the fight has definitely drained from her words. (Or more accurately, there's words at all.) They've shriveled into something small, shaken, and mortified, barely catching in his ringing ears as she inches closer around the slide. Or it seems like it. If it hasn't, well, he can't even walk straight. ]

[ Whatever the case might be, lying packed in the snow and slowly going numb is a nice place to wait for coherent sentences to form again. From either of them. ]

[ She could cry when he moves. Away from her, yeah, but that's good — the survival instinct is strong. He's going to need that around her, apparently. She pulls her coat off immediately and easily tears off an entire sleeve. From there she takes a few shaking steps toward him, sleeve held out. Her hand is shaking badly, wide and wild full-arm wavers that have nothing to do with the cold. ]

Here, you gotta... [ Another step closer, then she's down on both knees and not sure how it happened. The maimed sleeve stays outstretched toward him. ] Put this on your neck, okay...?

[ Can he even hear her? She's not sure. She still can't tell how badly she's hurt him, but first things first: stop the blood flow. ]

[ It's only remotely strong when he isn't thinking. Fortunately it's pretty hard to think with a zombie on your neck. Now, with one creeping meek and quaking toward him as if cornering a startled animal, he barely flinches even when she drops to her knees. There's a very good part of him that knows none of this is her fault, that would defend it even from her, that aches to see her reduced to something so throttled by guilt for what her body's done... but there's a very loud part of him that's suddenly fucking terrified of setting her off again. ]

[ There's a soft noise of acknowledgement from somewhere in his throat, reaching up a hand to tug the sleeve from hers. And after a halfhearted attempt to fold it, he rumples up the fabric against the wound on his neck, amping up the pressure as best he can and wincing. ]

[ Quietly, ] I think I hit my head on something...

Edited 2017-03-22 04:01 (UTC)

[ She doesn't feel much better when he takes the sleeve, but at least it's a start. She stays where she is, watching him unhappily, and her eyes track to what she can see of the back of his head at his suggestion. ]

I... threw you, right? [ She remembers it, but like she'd watched someone else do it in a dream. ] Sorry.

[ That last word is mumbled around her hand, come up to cover her mouth in a new wave of revulsed horror. That's when she remembers a little more of the part immediately beforehand, and she leans over to immediately begin wiping her face (and most importantly, her mouth) with handfuls of snow.

She can't get the tinny taste of copper out of her mouth. ]

[ Shifting where he lies, it's not hard to spot pale splotches in the snow just behind his ear, but they're smudges at best. Split skin as opposed to a gaping head wound. The slide is all round edges with nothing to scratch, though, so it still must have been quite the impact. The world doesn't quite want to straighten up yet, but he isn't slurring his words at least. ]

Yeah, lil' bit... [ From the swings to the slide is a lil' more than a bit, but details. ]

[ He's about to brush away her apology when she starts shoveling snow into her mouth, smearing the blood (his blood) off her face... Christ, there really is no emotion in the human repertoire for this. Is he sorry? Scared? Disgusted? Disgusted for her? Is he angry, upset, confused? It's a white noise of it all in every direction, filling his head with cotton. The concussion isn't helping. ]

... So are... [ He pauses watching her, voice still halting. With some effort, he props himself on an elbow. ] Ramir, are you okay, or are you still...

[ Is it like a kind of angergasm and it's satisfied for a bit? Is it just a lightswitch in her head manned by a mischievous toddler? Did he say the secret word? Frankly it's the unpredictability that's the most nervewracking at this point, but just as important is making sure she's all back in her own head. For her sake as much as his. ]

You never really... mention how it goes.

[ How it feels. It's just good this, bad that. ]

[ Only when she's convinced she's cleared enough blood off of (and out of) her mouth does she finally stop, hands and lips numb from the cold. She's heard his question, but takes a few seconds to see if she can get herself composed. To see if she can shove all this away for later, so she can deal now with what needs to be dealt with.

She stares down at the snow she's crouched over, chest heaving with what threatens any minute now to become sobs. She's finding that she can remember more and more detail — and she owes it to Sigma to go over as much of it as she can so they can figure out what went wrong, what set her off...

But instead the almost sobs become actual sobs, and when she finally looks over to Sigma again it's with tears writing tracks in her makeup that has already seen better days. ]

Sigma, can I... [ She has to pause for a gulp of air — not the same heavy breathing she'd fallen into before attacking him, just the frantic intake that hopes it can stave off tears. ] Can I come over there?

[ With him? Because she's never more wanted to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest, and not just for the oxytocin. But after taking a chunk out of his neck, there's no way she's doing it without permission. ]

[ The lack of response is getting unpleasantly commonplace, but what's even more unpleasant is the heavy breathing. Sharp, shuddering sounds, drawing back to the way she'd sounded leaning against the swings, and it feels cold and needly in the pit of his stomach again, dread and panic that forces itself up and tightens his throat. You're joking... He levers himself upright, eyes tight shut, bracing a hand behind himself half ready to limp his ass away like it would even make a difference when her first sob cracks through. ]

[ And somehow everything gets colder. When he looks up, there's tears rolling down her face, and it isn't an answer but... God. They can figure this out later. He doesn't know what to do, all he knows is that the waver in her voice hurts worse than the gouge in his neck. ]

[ Shit. The next breath he manages shudders and catches, and he slumps a little, back to his elbow... ]

Can you bring your other sleeve?

[ Of course she can come. ]

[ She's moving as soon as he answers. She folds herself down over Sigma, joining him in the churned snow, with one arm thrown around him and the other at the ground to brace herself. ]

I'm so fucking sorry. [ That comes around a hundred light, desperate kisses that land at his cheek, forehead, jaw. ] I'm sorry — I could see myself moving, but like it was someone else, and — god, I couldn't stop it at all...

[ She ends pulled tight against him, with at least enough presence of mind not to jam her arm into the wreck she's just made of his neck, and her head tucked under his chin. She should be moving him, getting him inside and making sure he's not about to hemorrhage from hit to the head, or anything. But... this first. She has to have this. ]

[ This is definitely all the Ramir he knows, burying herself into his chest like a safe space and peppering him in kisses and— well, crying her eyes out in a distinctly not-angry fashion. He lets her weight press him back into the snow, and there isn't a sliver of apprehension in the arm he loops around her shoulders as he snugs her tight against him with all the strength he can muster. ]

You're fine, [ he shushes, eyes falling shut, his other hand finding the back of her head, smoothing down her hair. ] You're good, it's okay. Trust me, I've been there...

[ The back of his jacket is starting to soak through at the cuffs and seams, and now it's the chill sinking its teeth into the back of his neck, but... The ice pack is probably good for his head. And he can't deny he needs this as well. Holding her alive and conscious and herself. ]

The only ones that need to apologize are the bastards that let this out...

[ God, she wishes she could focus this well of emotion into anger toward whoever unleashed all this. That could be productive, particularly if she can channel it further into finding them. But she feels too far gone for that. It's all she can do to hang onto her sense of self at all. ]

I can't do this, Sigma.

[ That's muffled into his shirt, but not the wavering, desperate voice she'd pressed out through the tears. This one is quieter and more resolved. ]

I gotta find some... some workaround. Some way to just fall asleep and wake up when someone's done up a cure. I can't keep this shit up.

[ Likewise he wished nothing more than to find those responsible, but right now, they aren't important. Their only relevance is to relieve her of as much guilt as it could. Right now, all he can do is lie still beneath her, rub her back, let her words crush his chest in til his breathing catches. Her tone has collected itself enough to not be teary, but that doesn't make the content any less heartbreaking. Doesn't make him feel any less completely helpless in her downward spiral. ]

What, are you gonna go find a spindle to prick your finger on?

[ He hadn't intended that to be as dismissive as it had sounded, blurted like that, but if anything more appropriate had slipped out, his own voice might have cracked. Shutting his eyes, he takes a deep breath before trying again. ]

I just mean... Does anything even work on you?

[ And that's the problem, isn't it? She's thought of this a few times over the last couple weeks, but always pushed the idea away as impossible, hopefully not necessary.

Well, it's definitely past that stage now. ]

I don't think pills would... I might get a little sleepy, then they'd wear off.

[ This is helping, though. Talking through it, getting her brain back onto the scene. She finally pulls back and rolls off of him, holding out a hand to help them both up at the same time.

With a thoughtful frown: ] If I could... muffle my shit, somehow. Like turn off my power for a while, like in Nalawi.

[ Thank god the talking is doing her some good, getting her back on the path of logic. Sense seems to be sloshing back and forth between them, but as her voice begins to steady, thankfully so do his thoughts. No matter how upset or guilty or helpless he feels, he can't fall to pieces when she needs all the support in the world right now. ]

Well you're not gonna knock back a whole bottle just to see, okay..?

[ Even if they had something like the soporil that could drop him like a sack of concrete in minutes, playing around looking for a not-quite-lethal dose of anything for someone so unmeasurably resilient is just... out of the question. ]

[ But her suggestion isn't a promising one. This is Basically Earth, 1993, if no one on their team has anything like that, definitely no one around here is going to. ] Yeah, but that was straight up god business, I donno where you'd even start trying to do that here...

[ Taking her hand, he sits up and rocks forward enough for them to pull each other to their feet, but as soon as he reaches his proper height, the world mutes and blurs and tunnels for the briefest of seconds. Everything lists almost predictably to the left as it threatens to give out, and all he can think to spit out is, ] Oh shit...

[ Of course she's not going to mess around with dosages that could kill someone just to experiment, especially when she doubts any dose would do much — but the answer is driven out of her head at the first sign of Sigma's unsteadiness. She ducks under his arm in an instant, her own arm looped firmly around his waist. ]

Hey, careful. [ Is this all because of the hit to his head? God, this is starting to look like a concussion...

She shifts, pulling the one-armed jacket up and around his shoulders, and at the same time turns to present her back for him. ]

Think you can hang on?

[ The sudden dip in blood pressure definitely isn't helping, but even if it is a concussion, at least it's slightly better than he'd been doing trying to escape her. Slightly. He's still sagging against her support and gulping down a deep breath or two in an effort to clear his head, steady his knees. ]

[ Once he gets them locked up enough to stand on his own, he nods, ] Yeah, I'll be good.

[ Hooking an arm around her neck, he slouches over her back and allows her to take his weight altogether. It's an awkward grip, still keeping the torn sleeve pressed to his throat, but as long as she doesn't go on any of her big fun jumps, he should be fine. ]

You just let me know if I need to let go, okay...

Yeah, I will. Promise.

[ And she's usually pretty serious about promises, but this one? This one is fucking solid. She's never having a repeat of ten minutes ago, even if it means scaring Sigma off while she's still lucid.

She bumps him up a little to get a solid grip on his legs, and starts them forward. She moves as quickly as she can while still making it a smooth ride; she's awful conscious of the fact that every little jostle is going to suck.

Quietly, mostly a mutter: ] If we get this shit cured, I'm gonna be a vegetarian until I die.

[ Good deal. Not that he's in any shape to effectively run away from her at the moment, but there are small comforts in the sentiment. If they weren't taking this seriously enough before, this was a hell of a wake up call. Bracing himself, he still winces as she hikes him up just a bit, but it helps him settle as her gait smooths out. ]

[ Even if he has to groan his disapproval right beside her ear. How could she even joke about such a thing. Now he's quiet too, and sounds wounded in a different way. ]

Man, I didn't taste that bad, did I?

[ Ugh. Ugh. She doesn't even want to think about the taste. She squeezes her eyes shut as she hits the steady going of the sidewalk. ]

Don't do this to me, Sigma.

[ Not... quite as serious as some of the things she's said lately, there's at least a sliver of joke to it, but also: don't do this to her, Sigma. ]

[ It isn't pain that gets him to wince this time. Too soon. Hopefully this'll be funnier after everything's cleared up... ]

Sorry...

[ He shifts forward to put an apologetic kiss to her ear before snuggling back against her shoulder. Buried in the snow and otherwise preoccupied, it had been surprisingly hard to tell just how chilly it'd gotten in the past couple minutes. Now he's just wet and cold and undeniably shivering underneath her jacket, head throbbing, throat stinging, thankfully enough to kill any more jokes that might be lurking around. And pretty much everything else. ]

[ Somewhere down the sidewalk, tension begins noticeably loosening along the arm clinging around her neck, but it manages to renew itself before he falls over backwards. Sleep sound so damn good right now. ]

[ Ramir sits curled on the bed, leaned up against Sigma and wrapped around a pillow with the holographic keyboard she insists her magitek generate out in front of her. It's comforting, reminds her of home; she could use any and all comfort she can get right now. ]

Mm, Sigma. [ She shifts, nudging him with a light elbow. ] Koltira might have a thing.

[ For, you know, the Issue At Hand. ]

[ For better or for worse, sleep's been undeniably easier the past couple nights, whether or not the day's events should be keeping him up. Whether or not he's even upright, really. Propped half-sitting against the headboard with a book propped half-open in limp hands, it's struck again. Chin to chest, the faintest of snores. ]

[ But in turn the faintest of nudges prompts him awake with a twitch and eyes flutter open wide... before immediately falling 90% shut on her once more. ] Oh my god, is there anything that dead man can't do...

[ Abandoning the book, he scrubs his face. Sleep's been easier, waking up all the way's been a lot harder. ]

Probably not. The guy's a regular fucking miracle worker.

[ And the solution doesn't seem ideal, but... it definitely sounds like it will work. She leans a little more heavily into Sigma, squirming to insert herself into his newly freed up arms, now that he won't be distracted by a book. ]

And hey, good news — no sleeping pills needed.

[ No sooner does the book thud beside the bed is she replacing it with herself, for which he has zero objections. He scoops her up and settles her in, forcing his eyes to open and his attention to focus. This sounds like a breakthrough. ]

No shit? What's the alternative?

[ Because pretty much anything would beat out the sleeping pills at this point. All that matters now is by how big a margin. ]

Ice.

[ Which probably needs a little more explanation. She sighs and drops her head against his chest, frowning at the wall. ]

Like... encasing me, I guess. He said I wouldn't be conscious, and it'd last for a few days.

[ He'd also said it would hurt, but that part seems way, way less important than the fact that it's possible at all. ]

Huh.

[ Explanation or no, this actually... sounds easier to follow. At least it's got some scientific backing, even when he's from. Cooling bodies to subdue them and slow the progression of illness. It'd probably be way cruder than the pods he'd run into back home, but she's also infinitely tougher than anyone they'd thrown in there. ]

[ But that raises just as important a detail. ]

Like, totally encased? You'd still be able to breathe, right?

I mean, I guess. I assume so. [ She makes a face. ] But it's magic, so who knows. He wouldn't suggest it if he didn't know it'd work, though.

[ Because honestly, she has no idea what level of precision to expect from being encased in ice by someone else's creepy dead guy powers. ]

Okay, fair.

[ Koltira's a sensible guy. Mostly. He might not know his way around a taser, but he'd know his own stuff better than anyone. ]

And it lasts a few days, so... He's just gonna keep hitting you til they come up with something?

[ Despite the fact that this has to be the soundest plan they've thought of yet, his face can't help falling. Her being frozen means having nothing to do with her for the indeterminable future... Which is nowhere near as bad as watching her slip hard and haphazard into insanity and eventually getting his face ripped off, but... This isn't about him. She probably won't even remember being asleep. ]

[ Bumping up the confidence, ] Well I guess it sounds like the best shot you've got short notice.

Yeah, something like that.

[ She has no idea. She specifically doesn't want too many details, because she wants absolutely nothing talking her out of this. And also, there's the unsaid hope that just freezing her once will be enough, and the science team will get their shit together quickly...

But more importantly, and with the barest hint of a smile: ] Anyway, for some reason Koltira doesn't want a Ramir ice sculpture at his place. He said it'd be weird. That means you gotta babysit me instead.

[ Well it doesn't sound great, but it's what they've got. The hope doesn't have to be said to be shared, that this doesn't become a new routine for long. ]

Some people just can't appreciate art. [ He cracks a smile of his own. ] Okay, but you're not going under anywhere near the bed, if you getting your cold feet on me in the middle of the night was bad enough before...

[ He still feels a little bad for joking, but it's okay if she starts it, right. It feels better now that they've at least got a plan of attack. ]

[ It's easier to return his smile with a better one of her own with something like the glimmer of a plan in sight. She's not sure she can really call it hope, hope rests on smarter shoulders than hers, but it's something. ]

I'll tell him to stick me right in the entryway, like a coat rack. I'll be decorational and functional.

But make sure you freeze in a sturdy pose, Pepper might try to knock you over. Like the most decorative, functional, chilly Christmas tree...

[ The image of her trying to hold a stance like that, feet apart, knees bent, arms out like hooks--or even better, pitching it to Koltira--gets a good chuckle out of him, even stifled as best it can be under his breath. ]

[ As it subsides, he moves a hand up her back to smooth it through her hair again, shifts to put a kiss to the top of her head. From the amusement he'll pull reassurance, strong but soft in his tone, ]

See, we got this figured out...

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what icon do i use with the cannibalistic tag, i was not prepared for this :[

meanwhile I get to use this one for the first time

aw i'm glad i could be here for this moment

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