Chapter 2

[thenine]

Who: OTA
Where: Quad
When: Week 2, Day 5 - Week 4, Day 6
Summary: Chapter 2 prompts!
Restrictions/Warnings: Violence, blood, et cetera. For anything surpassing 'R' on a rating scale, please create your own log.
Notes: Please title your subject line in the following format -- Open / Closed | Date. OOC event information can be found here.

Quick Navigation
The Nine
The Company
Westies
True Leithians
Leith
Resistance
The RAC

The Nine: Poisoned Well

With the heir delivered and Lady Derrish returning to health, balance has been maintained amongst the Nine. Swift and efficient - and, some would say, unbelievable - medical attention administered may have steadied the Lady's life, but for those in the ruling houses, the atmosphere of tenuous peace only grows thicker. Land Kendry has launched an investigation - with particular focus on Land Hyponia - into the source of the 'attack' on Lady Derrish's health. Of course, that is only the surface, and some suggest, with hushed voices, that there may be more to Land Kendry's goals than to weed out an assailant. Land Hyponia has long since been in support of maintaining the Seventh Generation Accords, which it defends staunchly against any opposition. One of the most agitated among those in disagreement with the Accords is Land Kendry. Now is the perfect opportunity for them to rearrange the pieces in their favor, and with the information they've fabricated, they'll be able to replace the head of Land Hyponia with someone who is - at least hopefully - more pliable to their agenda. The Derrish have their own suspicions, the cure surfacing all too conveniently timed to have been a coincidence. When Land Kendry's investigation procures evidence pointing to Land Hyponia as the culprits, inflaming the crime with implied - yet vague - ties to the resistance, the Derrish publically accept the accusation. Behind closed doors, the solution seemed to have come as uncannily easily as the cure, and suspicions only rise. But for now, the two houses remain allied - ready to use one another for their own interests. For those among the nobility, it's the time to reevaluate alliances, assuring the old and gathering the new. The more support you have, the safer you are - unless, of course, you chose the wrong friend. Some turn to other members of the nobility, some to the RAC for hired guards, some to the Company to mandate investigations unsuitable for Killjoys, and some may even turn to the underbelly of society to accomplish anything necessary to stay on top. Or to simply stay alive.

The Company: Cleaning House

There will be no accolades, and no rest, for the hard working Company officials following the response to the True Leithan attacks. Assignments shift from one thing to the next, moving from bureaucratic nightmare to bureaucratic nightmare. While there’s always busy work to distract from the intrigue behind the scenes, it’s not liable to be any safer. Some officials will be charged with maintaining peace and order on Leith, as the outbreak of a pandemic slowly spreads over the moon. From helping the afflicted find their way to a place of treatment, to safe and efficient body disposal—burning corpses by the hundreds—to attempting to track down the source of the virus, it's best anyone assigned here take heed ‘lest they find themselves falling ill as well. Westerley, on the other hand, is a different kind of headache. With Harvest Week in swing, most company officials will be reaching for a drink of their own at the end of their shifts. Rowdy workers celebrating their time off, spending their hard earned Joy frivolously, and citizens whisked away by the atmosphere of celebration all mingle throughout Old Town. Property damage, fighting, less than subtle illegal activity, and crowding all become more of an issue than they usually are during this time. It's the perfect setting to lay down the law, or to not be noticed by it. On top of it all, each and every member of the Company's workforce can expect to have their documents double and triple-checked. Those with any suspected ties to Leith are likely to undergo a more serious investigation. One-on-one interrogations become common practice, and whether you're trusted or suspect, you may come face to face with a companion in your duties. True Leithan sympathizers are what the Company review is after, but anything else unturned will surely not be ignored. Cover your bases.

Westies: Harvest Week

Harvest week is in full swing throughout Westerley - visa workers have been shuttled back in droves from their time on Leithian farms, many of whom were willing to take some of their observations to information brokers for a price. Most had superficial information to sell (the state of unease on the average farm due to the impending Accords, the increased suspicion that the migrant workers were forced to endure, the fear of retaliation by the rebellion for the True Leithian attacks), others with reports of increased security and weapons caches on the farms of those whose sympathies lie with the “heroes” of the attack in Old Town. Old Town, however, is even more of a chaotic mesh of humanity with the mass influx of returning bodies. Bars stay busy day and night, the hokk and ale flow almost faster than most can keep up, and many Enforcers and Killjoys alike can make a good bit of extra joy (or free drinks) by moonlighting as security at the more popular locations. Despite all of the fun to be had, there is still the undercurrent of unrest, because Company checks have increased even more and Intake has become a revolving door of petty criminals being held for the smallest infractions. Everyone is on edge as the Resistance grumbles and the Nine search the shadows for something or perhaps someone. The unrest only worsens once Leith is placed under quarantine. And through it all, criminal activity is on the rise. Somehow, despite the strict regulation and transport of migrant workers, there is an increased access to Jakk and Bliss. Norn has an ever growing market, and weapons dealers are in high demand both in Eulogy and by private buyers alike. Something is brewing beneath the revelry, and no one wants to be caught unable to defend themselves, it seems. Not that any amount of firepower can defend against disease when P43X shows up on W3D7--but it can certainly make the symptoms worse.

True Leithians: Second Stage

Wounded and pressed to a corner, the beast rears its head and bares a maw of teeth and ruthless pursuit. The True Leithian organization does not take pause to mend wounds left in the wake of last week’s retaliation, no. They do not seek the comfort of safe haven and recovery. Instead they turn their anger and fear inward, sacrificing their own for what they believe to be the greater good. On Week 2, Day 6, three individuals slip into the crowds of Leith, mingling with the revelers and the families celebrating Harvest Week. They share smiles and laughter, they share conversation and drinks, but most importantly, they share infection. Each of the three is responsible for disseminating P43X, a viral bioweapon designed by Zan Nikora on behalf of the military in years past. During its conception, the aim of P43X was simple: to create a weapon which could demoralize and destabilize an entire population within a matter of days. To create madness that builds in the blood and eats into the brain, spreading through every tier of society. And though its use has long been out of commission, its engineer has lingered. Zan Nikora, kidnapped and held under threat of death not to himself but to those he holds dearest, is made to choose between the lives of his family on Westerley or the strangers on Leith. His choice is obvious, though far from easy. Reassembling the buried curse takes time, supplies, and testing. He is provided amply with the last two but scarcely with the first. But still he complies. When his madness maker is complete and his existence becomes a potential loose end, it’s not freedom that Zan Nikora tastes, but the poison of his own medicine. Only once the voices in his head have risen above whispers and turned to screams, when his mind can no longer hold secrets worth sharing, does he see his family again. It takes six days*. Six days and Zan Nikora stumbles through Old Town, eyes unseeing, mind riddled with disease—infection spreading. Mod Note: *W3D6. Cure and vaccines will be developed and disseminated beginning on W4D3, but will not be fully administered to all locations until W4D5.

Leith: Pocket Posies

Harvest Week in Leith marks a period of joy and relief. Bazaars are open longer, the ordinary bustle of the business day replaced with celebration and festivities throughout the evening hours. Vendors offer games for adults and children alike, the sky is a constant wash of soft pinks, purples, and greens from holographic firework shows, and music fills the air from different stages. All walks of life are welcome to join in the merriment, just so long as they have the right to be there. Anyone suspected of an invalid visa or citizenship papers are dealt with harshly, but quietly. Tucked away into the darkness of a holding cell like all of Leith’s more problematic elements. It is a time of peace and relief, this week, and they will not abide disruption. But within the hallowed days of celebration, a sickness grows, incubating. Spreading. First, it begins with an ache deep within the muscles. The body tires too quickly, the flesh burns with a blanket of rising fever. Whispers skirt at the edge of hearing, unintelligible but audible, filling the audio cortex with illusions and lies. Food loses its appeal, though the body yearns dearly for energy it cannot hold, and breathing becomes tighter, harder. Next the tide of high fevers, of lethargy. The brain devolves into paranoia and mania, the mind races with delusions and hallucinations. Pain follows, a pain that seems to emanate from every nerve without relief or pause, seeping through the muscles and aching within the very bones of a person. Some may wish for death, and for many, that wish will be granted in an unending sleep when the fatigue pulls darkness across the mind, plunges the last thoughts of a person into static slumber. But not all will succumb so readily, and therein is the weakness that ultimately shelved P43X during its initial creation. Its impacts are not uniform—while much of the population suffers dearly, most are sustained with timely medical interventions, and many others recover with the prowess of their own immune system. For Leith, bountiful in money and supplies, most of P43X’s more fatal properties are circumvented or delayed. But even in this lush world of affluence and peace, there are the poor, the underprivileged, and the weak. They are not afforded the same haste of care, the same salvation. Instead, they’re given graves of sanitizing fires, and their bodies turn to ash.

Resistance: Sleeping Dogs

The chaos of the festivities that go along with Harvest Week provides the perfect cover for the Resistance to begin moving once again. New cells need to be formed in the wake of so many executions and new members need to be recruited. Info brokers with Resistance-leaning sympathies have an opportunity to make a little extra joy by putting the disconnected sympathizers in contact with one another, aiding the vetting of Company insiders that need new handlers within the organization. For Resistance members already embedded within, they need to work now to find new locations to store what supplies remain and to begin rebuilding the stockpiles of weapons and supplies re-confiscated by the Company. Some may have heard of abandoned mines or facilities that can be retrofitted out in the Badlands while others are needed to track down rumors of Company made fallout shelters located within the under-city tunnels. For this, Company moles are essential - the only hope of accessing these shelters is with long forgotten Company passcodes. And the Scarbacks, well. Everyone’s heard rumors that there are many within their ranks willing to help with recruitment and contraband transportation, though there’s little the Company can do to restrict their movements at this time. Because of this, Scarbacks may also be the only ones that have a chance of getting into Leith once the quarantines go into effect. Those already aligned with the rebellion will be tasked with coordinating supply movements, making a deal or three with the devil on behalf of those unwilling to back down from the promises of the Accords. Caution and purpose should drive their movements because if the True Leithian attack is any indication… those nationalists are not going to let go of their precious land and status without a long, bloody fight.

The RAC: Holding Pattern

Warrants still flow in with a regular consistency - enough to keep the average team or agent quite busy. Every harvest season there are visa jumpers that need to be caught and low-level warrants claiming petty theft from farms by Westie migrants. The increasing number of disturbances and crimes in Old Town guarantee a plethora of local warrants to capture criminals across the moon or those that managed to escape an Enforcer’s arrest. Some, however, have either been requested by Seyah Kendry herself or volentold by their seniors within the RAC to conduct investigations into the attack on the Nine. And not all of these investigations are on the Lady’s behest. Some of the Nine aren’t quite willing to take Land Kendry’s word as law and have quietly requested their own investigations into the attack in Old Town and the Land Derrish misfortunes. (MOD NOTE: There will be a comment thread for teams to sign up for the specialized plot related warrants on the monthly warrant post, located HERE. Once teams have posted for a plot warrant, the mods will give them a location and focused assignment.)

Comments

Damian Wayne | OTA + closed prompts

[bittybat]

Week 3, Day 1-7

[When Allanah Sayeh Hyponia is convicted of high treason as part of the Resistance, Damian decides to don his newly acquired vigilante attire and moniker while on Leith tending to his ill "father." A short, but stern-sounding boy in a form-fitting single piece black suit and a cloak. The face beneath the hood is concealed by a mask, and the front of the suit is splashed with the silhouette of a golden bird.

His main goal is information. Under the cover of dark, he tries to hustle leads out of those who seem like Resistance sympathizers, feeling guilty about harassing his own, but wanting to trace anything back to an origin. Why risk countless Resistance lives for something that doesn't even hit the Nine?

If you're a sympathizer, you've been stalked for quite some time by a shadow. It drops on you from above suddenly without warning. No taller than five foot, it easily manhandles you into restraint, then begs the question:] What do you know about the usurpers?

Week 4, Day 1-6

[Damian still isn't satisfied with the reports of the disease and the cure. He thinks he knows it's a sham. A set-up to gain support for the Company and the Nine. It's too simple to be anything else. The sickness was rolled out by the same people who had the cure; what best way to get people to love you than that.

But the RAC takes up more of his time now than the moniker. He's running supplies to medical outposts, slipping some of the cure in his pocket for testing.

If you're a doctor or a nurse, he shows up at your door with the cure and basic medical supplies. Sometimes, he shows up with food, passing by the sick frustrated and ornery. Children get the brunt of his sympathy; he brings girls dolls and boys wooden rubber band guns.]

If you'd like a starter, hit me here or ping/pp moetan! Someone test D's stolen cure for JUSTICE.

Riza Hawkeye

[bittybat]

[The first half of the second week begins as shitty as Damian would expect. The only "adventurous" warrant he can snag is escorting Company personnel outside of the Quad.

Fortunately, he thinks he can take the opportunity to weasel into Company good-graces better. With Jack as the only other acquaintance, he thinks he can use some more personnel seeking him out.

So Riza gets a slim ten year old coming through the door to see her to the launching docks. He's too serious for a kid, all frowns and tight lips, brows looking meaner because of their arch. But at least he holds himself with formal elegance. Discipline. Without even knowing his capabilities, the militant way he stands and moves can speak volumes about whether or not he should be underestimated.] Damian Wayne.

The ship departs in twenty minutes.

crawls in three days late without starbucks

[cauterised]

[It's not too often she's sent outside the Quad on a job. Not that she doesn't have the qualifications for such things, but there's trouble enough on Qresh and its assorted moons to keep any Company employee's hands full for the next hundred years. Besides, for all the control the Company has within the Quad, their power dwindles rapidly outside of the J-star cluster.

It's even less often she stumbles across a kid half her size and age with the title 'Killjoy' affixed to his name, and the combination has her steps halting momentarily as she sweeps an incredulous look over his short frame. Even after seeing kids joined up in the military, kids working double shifts in the Company, the sight of it will never not touch upon a twinge of discomfort in her gut.

But people do what they must in order to survive. She knows that fact as well as anyone.]

Riza Hawkeye. [Succinctly; if he were any decent Killjoy, he already would have known that information.] I presume they gave you the full details of our destination?

me tbqh

[bittybat]

Telen orbit. Your designated vessel is Valyn. [For a kid, there's a lot strange about Damian. He's too serious for someone his age, holds himself too square and formal. He has no weapons visible on him. No sword, no gun, no knives. It seems to be just a single ten year old waiting for Riza.] If we travel uninterrupted, we'll arrive in several hours.

Are you ready?

weakly hi5s

[cauterised]

[The notes are carefully filed away at the back of her mind, Riza giving one curt nod of acknowledgment before giving his question due consideration.

Is she ready?]

Not yet.

[Without warning, she lifts her fingers to her mouth for a single loud whistle. Save for a few swiveled heads their direction, no further movement's detected—until a few seconds later when a large brown and black dog comes running, stopping only as soon as he reaches Riza's side.

Satisfied, she amends her answer.]

We're ready.

slams a hi5

[bittybat]

[Oh my GOD, do NOT bring DOGS into this!!!!

All of the formal tension melts out of Damian's shoulders at the first sign of the dog. It's amazing. This is the best part of his day. This is, quite frankly, one of the best Company warrants he has ever accepted. Holy shit.]

Name?

[Look, if he has to escort two living things, he's going to learn their names.]

[cauterised]

[She will always bring dogs into this, sry. But with valid reason - there are some things highly convoluted technology still misses that base instinct and a good nose don't. And also, she just likes having a dog around. Hopefully that won't throw a wrench into this warrant.

It's only now that Damian finally looks his age, eyes wide as his gaze remains firmly trained on the dog at her side. It's a little relieving, a little amusing, a little worrying - another reminder of how young he really is.]

His name is Roy. He's officially mine but he's useful to have on jobs. Roy, sit.

[And sit the dog does, plopping his butt onto the ground while still staring at Damian. Then, oh so casually:]

You can shake his paw, if you'd like.

Rhys

[bittybat]

[It won't be the first time he's come in as a ten year old and underestimated. (Or laughed at.) But it won't be the last time Rhys sees Damian Wayne.

The only reason he doesn't get buttblistered by the snickering of Company guards when he's lead in is because he's confident in his abilities; kicking their ass wouldn't be too difficult. The Company should really raise their standards.]

You issued a warrant for investigation, and I accepted it. What's the parameters for your request?

sorry for the lateness!

[rhygret]

[ The guards might not snicker or openly scoff, but Rhys? Well...he's got about as much tact as any privileged jerk in a position of high authority, and when those two guard bring Damian in he does the only sane thing he can think of in his position: he laughs in disbelief and assumes this is all some sort of elaborate joke. ]

I, wh-what? Haha, nooo no no, come on guys. Seriously? [ That's to the guards. He's not even addressing Damian directly. ] I said Killjoy, not...kid-joy? Or--whatever. [ Why does he open his mouth ] Take him home.

no worries!! take your time

[bittybat]

[If Damian wasn't only level two and could carry a weapon, he probably would have hit Rhys right between the eyes. Annoyingly, this happens quite often, as expected. If fact, if this didn't happen on a daily basis, Damian would probably think something was fishy.] Damian Wayne. You issued a warrant for information searching apart from Land Kendry.

[Whatever, it's fine. He use to be like Rhys, too. He thought he came from greatness, that he was made by the greatness of a special kind of Scarback and a rich Leith merchant, and so he didn't act too far off from how Rhys is acting now. He wants to be taken seriously, but he hadn't taken people seriously before. (And sometimes, he still doesn't.)] Or were you wasting the RAC's time? [He doesn't come forward, but he holds up his communicator to show Rhys a picture-laden warrant request.]

If I made a mistake, you should find another picture so that it doesn't happen again.

<33

[rhygret]

Wait...wait wait, you mean you're serious? [ The kid keeps talking, keeps being all official and then he even has the gall to relay the entirely confidential information of his warrant to him and all Rhys can do is openly stare at the literal child in front of. The RAC sent a child to fill his warrant.

Or a broker. Or this guy somehow got his hands on it, but that doesn't make this whole thing any more believable. What the hells is going on he's so confused. ]

The RAC is employing...w-what, kids now? For real?

[bittybat]

They employ whoever can do the job. [The phone lowers.] The same as the Company.

It's not an issue for you in the long run. If I die, they will just compensate you with another agent willing to take the warrant. You have nothing to lose except possibly a little bit of time.

Fortunately for you, I don't die, and I don't waste time.

[Now that's out of the way.] What information are you looking for in particular?

[rhygret]

You...sure get straight to the point, huh. [ This kid is so serious. Like he's not a kid at all. He acts more like a cotchy old man or one of the executives he's seen bossing people around inside the Company, which is actually making this a little bit weird for him.

Rhys clears his throat in an attempt to reign things back in. ]

R-right. So. I need this done discreetly. [ So he nods to the guards, who take their cue to back out of the room and close the door behind them. ] No one knows who sent you, got it?

[ Why does it feel like trusting this to a kid is just a majorly bad idea? ]

mid/late week 4 somewhere, while we wait for warrant rng.

[tirejacked]

[The question of the hour—how's a former military lab rat get the moxie and the means to launch a large-scale bioattack all on his lonesome?

(The answer, of course, is that he doesn't.)

Not that figuring that out is their job, officially. Just bringing him in. But nosiness is a bad habit of many. The simplest route to figuring out what's going on behind the scenes involves getting Zan Nikora to give his side of the story. And someone's got to agree, because the price tag on the warrant to retrieve him is no joke. Despite the outbreak starting on Leith, current leads still point to Westerley. At the moment, their best option mostly involves canvassing the city. Sifting through the masses of the sick and raving for signs of a guy who seems to fit the description. Running down sightings from feverish locals that may or may not have been halluncinations in the first place, erratic movements that all seem to imply that maybe Nikora's not exactly in his right mind anymore, either.

The needle-in-a-haystack approach. Which takes time, and manpower. And luck, which is probably the most frustrating piece of it all. If Nikora's off his rocker on his own virus, it makes him a lot harder to predict.

They're in the neighborhood, so a little double-duty in the way of passing out supplies doesn't set them back much, as long as they're quick. In the midst of chasing their tails, the cure still needs delivering and administering, and Westerley gets access at the bottom of the priority list, so it comes in at a trickle. The clinics are scattered away from the shipments, set up in tents and shantytowns where they lack facilities with the space for the number of the sick. Right now, Jason's waiting outside, hands in pockets. Leaning on the wall and waiting for Damian to finish whatever it is he's doing so they can get back on the trail.

Perhaps uncharacteristically, he doesn't seem to feel the need to snipe.]

Done?

[Clock's ticking.]

let him rest jason

[bittybat]

[Surprising. Damian is prepared to issue sass in return, but receives none, and he thinks that's a little odd for Jason.

So he peers peculiarly at Jason for a moment or two after he returns from delivering supplies to Lunafreya. (Something he does regularly, shut UP.)] Finished.

[But he hands out something rolled up in wax paper.] Fleuret wanted me to give you this. [Because she's a stupid girl, stupid healer Scarback who stupidly cares.

She had received some desserts from another supply drop, decided to give two of them to Damian and Jason, when he Jason was waiting on him. It's something similar to a cream-filled donut.] She said to tell you hello.

pinches his cheeks

[tirejacked]

[Damian's a frequent enough visitor to the clinic that he's got an in with the (overworked, understaffed) healers, which helps when they're nosing in on the understandably-busy operations in search of one particular John Doe. While Jason's familiar with the peculiarities of the Scarbacks, he's still very much an outsider. So he'd been content to keep out of the way and watch the door while Damian made the delivery, but he accepts the paper-wrapped pastry without thinking. Pauses to frown and turn it over in his hands only once he catches up to the unexpected gesture.

(He doesn't owe much to the order so much as to one woman in particular, and it's been a long time since he burned that bridge, anyway.)

It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it beat before he pushes himself off the wall he'd been leaning against. Unwrapping the top of the pastry, he takes a bite, gesturing at Damian with the rest and speaking through a mouthful like the heathen he is.]

Thank your girlfriend for me later, we're on the clock.

[There we go. That's a little closer to normal.]

[bittybat]

She isn't my girlfriend! [ALSO HE'S TEN?? AND SHE IS LIKE TWENTY FOUR?? Jason Todd, you're a disgusting sack of shit, do not even talk to him.

But it works, and Damian looks beyond scandalized and ruffled about the implication he has any romantic affiliation with Lunafreya aside from just being idiotically concerned and running supply drops for a fellow Scarback. He better not hear any rumors about this from other people's mouths, or he's going to take a warrant out on Jason himself, level two no killing be damned.] Shut up, Todd, and let's go.

[Besides, visiting Lunafreya hadn't been all that useless. Damian gets a head start on movement, letting Jason stuff the pastry in that stupid mouth.] Fleuret had some information about Nikora. It wasn't from one of the hallucinating sick this time.

It was from someone who brought one in. [That didn't count, right? As long as they weren't having any symptoms.]

[tirejacked]

[Is he embarrassed, that's cute. He's telling Kate, tbh. Fight him, Wayne.

Anyway. Jason follows at an easy pace, longer legs catching him up to Damian without forcing a hurry on him.]

Better than the one who was convinced she saw him arm wresting with the Lady Derrish outside the Royale.

[All these news broadcasts are really putting ideas in people's heads. Asymptomatic eyewitness is about as good as they can get, right now. Counts as more credible than the ones who were raving half the week just by virtue of maintained sanity. So.]

Shoot. We'll cross-reference with what we've covered so far, see if we can't narrow the field a little.

ok now that we got infooo

[bittybat]

[Do not tell fucking Kate anything, Jason, you piece of shit.]

Old Town. The witness said they were waiting with one of the sick when someone was rushed in by medical personnel. They were hidden, and there was a quiet fuss.

[The frown he gives Jason is unnaturally hard for a ten year old.] Suspicious. And risky. If Nikora really is ill, then they are going to have a hard time keeping his location quiet.

It's likely they would keep him at a bigger unit for quicker medical treatment, but if they're trying to hide him, then he may be at a smaller one. Less people. Less reason to check.

Week 4, day 1

[digophelia]

[ By the time the fourth week has passed, the dead had mounted and it felt like there was an eerie silence had fallen on Leith. While Alice herself wasn't sick and had remained for the first few weeks indoors, far too afraid to venture out for long. Not because of the illness itself, some of the symptoms were a constant issue for her. To keep the family lawyer from having any more fodder to push to have her sent back to an asylum, Alice kept to herself.

Hallucinations and delusions were a constant presence in her life, almost every day. After ten years, Alice had learned to address them, usually, without displaying them. She doesn't stay inside for too long; once she hears about the number of children afflicted or orphaned, Alice can be found doing what she can to assist in clinics.

After bringing what she could to help assist others far more trained and attempting to offer some comfort to children, Alice can be found in a really odd place, hunkered down outside while she's sitting on the steps. The stress from running around and sifting through stories and details in a desperate attempt to return home with ideas to help any children left behind. She couldn't understand why it bothered her so much, other than she suffered a similar fate.

No, there was more than that.

Wrought from sleep deprivation and her own hallucinations, she must have looked terrible. She certainly felt terrible. Anyone who approaches, Alice seems jumpier than she normally is. She nearly jumps off and up on her feet, but that paranoia quickly fades as soon as she sees who it is. Color her surprised. ]

What are you doing here?

[bittybat]

[For a moment or two, Damian doesn't answer. He just looks Alice over, thinking, yes, she does look pretty terrible. And she looks out of her element, naturally.]

What are you doing here? [Though maybe it's not such a stretch after all considering the biowarfare attack started on Leith to begin with. Of course it did. Damian is only half surprised.

But that means Alice is a long way from where she should be, and here, of all places.] You shouldn't be here. Traveling during an illness will spread the disease and cause an epidemic. That's what's happening right now. It's foolish.

Are you sick?

[digophelia]

[ He is right, it's the worst way to pass along an illness and it's the reason why it's escalated to this degree. This leaves Alice sitting there in silence for a moment, grimacing as she thinks of what to say in return. ]

I came here to see what I could do to help. Me, a privileged Leithian, stowed away in a house and with a fortune?

[ She sounded utterly pathetic. ]

It felt wrong to do nothing.

[ Alice rose up, brushing her hair out of her eyes in an attempt to look somewhat kempt. Sick? She's not sick. ]

Rest assured, I am and have not been sick. I am perfectly fine.

[bittybat]

[Well, at least Alice is honest. Damian can give her a little credit for it.] Then stay away from the people who are. [Stupid girls. Why are all the Leith people like his father? (The real one and the fake one.) Stubborn and foolish, wanting to throw their lives down for others.] You should have stayed home. Now you're stuck until the cure is dispersed and the disease controlled. There's a quarantine.

[He sighs and shifts the box of supplies he has in his hands.] If you need to stay somewhere, go stay with Lunafreya Fleuret. She's a Scarback, and she has a tent for the sick she is trying to heal. [She also has a cute dog, and Damian regularly supplies her with food and material. Best place to be.]

[digophelia]

I'm not sick.

[ If this was stubborn, he hasn't seen anything yet. Alice's frown easily turning into a scowl as she crossed her arms. The defenses were up and Alice was almost tempted to say that she dared him to make her leave. But more than anything, Alice isn't looking to pick a fight with someone younger than her. ]

I have a place to stay, you needn't worry about me.

[ She had nothing against the Scarbacks, really, but being sent away from her home could almost send her into a secret panic. No one could know that she had gotten this bad. Someone this young in her opinion doesn't need to hear about the details of how many orphaned children she's found and how she plans to intervene and help them. No matter how mature they are.

The thought crosses her mind how composed and articulate he is. A little too much. Unfortunately, even with this, he won't be free of any sort of coddling from Alice. Just as Alice scowls and steals herself up, she softens. ]

And what of you? If it's unwise for me to be out like this, the same could be said of you. What will you do?

[bittybat]

I'm fine. [It's answered too quickly. It's not that he hasn't taken it all into consideration. It's that he doesn't care. There's more important things at stake right now.] I've taken precautions.

I work for the RAC. If a warrant comes in, I'll be required to go through here and everywhere else. [From out of the supplies, he pulls a paper face mask and a bottle of water.] Here.

Don't take the mask off. It'll keep you from trying to touch your mouth with your hands. [His arm is unwavering while he waits for her to take it.] Won't someone be looking for you since you're missing?

If there's a reward on your head, even the worst kinds of people could be looking for you.