Event: Flu Season

[applesaucemod]

Ah, October. A time of crisp weather, beautiful foliage, pumpkin spice lattes—and the flu. Make sure you get vaccinated!

Of course, vaccinations can't keep you safe from everything. Especially not a capricious, omnipresent entity that has, quite recently, been treated to the highly entertaining sight of someone struggling with illness for the first time in their life. Oh, dear. Someone's been giving the Rift ideas.

On the morning of October 2nd, those rifties who would never consider getting vaccinated against paltry human illnesses--because why would they need to?--will find themselves awake to a new level of personal hell: the flu. It will instantaneously infect any entities who are generally immune to such things, leaving them snotty, achy, miserable, and completely powerless to stop what is happening to them. What is this?! Are they dying? Oh god, the pathos.

Symptoms will persist until October 4th. Get plenty of rest, stay hydrated, and maybe investigate the wonders of chicken soup. Probably don't go see a doctor. Clinic doctors will be very confused and unhelpful about your weird anatomy, and The Doctor will probably be really gross and contagious.

Definitely don't consult WebMD. No good can come of that.

[OOC: Post here for initial reactions or start your own threads using the tag Event: Flu Season. Characters who can be affected are: the Doctor, the TARDIS, Zagreus, Aziraphale, Crowley, Desire, Ascended Daniel, Gabriel, Lucifer, and Rashad. You could probably also make a case for various other non-human/not-quite-human folks. No one's gonna tell you you can't have the flu, okay. Go nuts.]

Comments

[starlightcalliope]

Calliope has had a bit of a strange morning as well. She awoke to a dreadfully cold room downright unbearable in her cherub shape and still quite uncomfortable to her troll biology, so much so that the first thing she did upon getting out of bed was to put on a fluffy blue bathrobe and socks over her pajamas before making her bed and brushing her hair. Then she'd heard a ghostly sad sound out in the hallway, prompting her to investigate. But all she'd found was a bathroom very gently overflowing with ice cold water, a few doors mounted on the corridor ceiling, and a confused seeming animal with bouncy white fur wandering along. It ran off when she tried to offer her assistance.

It's around the time when she starts floating for a bit and gets her horns quite painfully tangled in some pipes that she realizes this isn't the sort of delightful quirkiness that comes with living in this magnificent place. Something isn't right. Which is an impression that gains all manner of credibility when she finally comes upon the Doctor wearing a strange kind of dress and being accosted by a very large, very fierce looking creature. Oh dear.

She lets out a soft gasp in surprise and stops in her tracks. "Um. Doctor?" she ventures, caught between concern and nervousness. "Am I... interrupting?"

[wildmage_daine]

"I walked in," Daine deadpans. Honestly. Even if the TARDIS wasn't under the weather, it's not as if she's ever shut her doors in Daine's face before. They, at least, are on good terms. She might be willing to entertain the notion of the Doctor forgetting this because he's all sickly, but she's guessing he really forgot on purpose.

The little gasp surprises her, but Daine relaxes when she sees who it is. Oh, good. Backup. Maybe the Doctor will listen to sense if it's coming from Callie. "Hullo, Callie. It's me, Daine," she says, lifting her free hand in what she hopes is a reassuring wave. "The Doctor's ill, I think. I found him on the floor." She turns back to the Doctor, her face well-suited to the unimpressed glower she sends his way. "I've been trying to get him off the floor, but he's been fussy."

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor may not have the best grasp on current happenings, but he has to set one thing straight. "I am not fussy," he says, completely uncowed by any gorilla-glowering. Recalcitrant, uncooperative, mulish, but fussy? This bunch of animals who talks like someone's tornado-fearing grandma is disrespecting him in his own house. Of course, the important thing is to reassure Callie, who is looking somewhat alarmed. Can't have that. "Callie! Tell her I'm not."

[starlightcalliope]

Oh, Daine! That's a relief, and a bit amazing; she hadn't seen her change her entire appearance like this before. Though the reassurance is rather damped by her claiming the Doctor to be ill. Calliope isn't terribly familiar with illnesses herself; cherubs get injured plenty, but apparently not ill. From what she understands, however, the two concepts are fairly similar and equal in nastiness. Poor Doctor!

She returns Daine's wave and walks the rest of the way up to them, now concentrating the full force of her concern and remaining confusion on the Doctor. "I'm sure it is only a misunderstanding," she tries diplomatically, glancing between the two of them. "But... you are on the floor." And looking awfully pallid, and his voice is sounding not right at all. What does one do with an ill friend? Daine doesn't seem too concerned, but Calliope wrings her hands a bit anyway, looking to her other friend for help. "Will he be ill for long?"

[wildmage_daine]

The Doctor gets a pointed look - at least Callie agrees that being on the floor is a problem - then she turns her attention back to the more sensible of the two. "It depends on what he's got," she says with a broad-shouldered shrug. "If it's just some sort of rift mischief, it might only last a few days." Otherwise, who knows? Maybe he and the TARDIS have the same sort of bug, and one will only get better if the other does. She doubts it's a coincidence that they're both falling apart at the same time.

Callie looks healthy enough, so that's some comfort. All of the TARDIS's residents aren't falling ill. But she is looking a bit fretful, so Daine reaches out to give her arm a gentle, reassuring pat. "I'm sure he'll get better. He ought to be in bed, is all." Goddess knows if they'll be able to brew him a cup of tea or anything - she's a little afraid of the state the kitchens might be in - but surely his bed will be a safe enough place to deposit him for the time being.

She turns back to the Doctor, stern and assessing. "Can you stand? Elsewise, I'll have to carry you." Well, half-carry, half-drag, in this shape. He's too gangly for her to lift completely, and Callie's a bit too short to help hold him steady if Daine tried for something larger, like horse shape.

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor doesn't like the sound of being carried by any sassful talking animals, no matter how exotic a shape they choose to take. He returns Daine's assessing look disagreeably, then waves a hand her direction, incomprehensible and irritable. She may be a rude chatty beast but bed does sound rather nice at the moment, so despite herself she may have a point. "Help me up. I'll go quietly," he says, not entirely convincingly. He waves the hand with feverish yet unconcerned vigor. Have to put on a brave face for this handwringing troll child. "It's fine, Callie. I'm sure I won't be ill long at all," he says, still not convincingly.

[starlightcalliope]

It's so fortunate that Daine is here and knows just what to do to help the Doctor. She'd be quite useless on her own, Calliope fancies, though of course she will do her best for him now, whatever it is one can do to ease an ill person's discomfort. Getting into bed is apparently the first step in this mysterious process.

She smiles gratefully and nods at his reassurance and Daine's, but it's hardly her they ought to be fussing about. "Off to bed you pop then," she chirps with a dash of bravado hiding her worry, moving to check the room behind him for any such things while Daine helps him to his feet.

Well, there certainly is a perfectly cozy looking bed. And a handful of chairs and a desk all scooted up to the walls. And while fancifully arranged furniture is nothing unusual in the TARDIS, the sticky goo barely recognizable as his familiar chalk scribbles slowly dripping from the walls does strike her as quite odd. The same sort of vaguely foreboding oddness as the ghostly bell and the ceiling doors, in fact. "Um," she starts hesitantly, not sure if the Doctor ought to even be bothered with any queerness in his delicate state. Though he's likely to encounter it sooner or later, so better to prepare him. "I do not mean to alarm you, but..." She trails off, unable for the moment to describe just what she's seeing.

[wildmage_daine]

Daine, indeed, does not look entirely convinced. At least he's willing to get moving, though; that's the most progress they've made since she found him senseless on the floor.

She helps him to his feet and does her best to keep him from toppling as they head back into his bedroom-slash-study. The bed seems unchanged despite the weirdness spreading through the TARDIS, but the walls haven't been so spared. "I think the TARDIS might be ill, too," she guesses, watching as the floor turns a rather ghastly shade of yellow.

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor agrees heartily with Daine's assessment, by yelling loudly and attempting to climb the gorilla, just a little. It really is just so yellow. Just, so yellow. That doesn't belong on the floor. He does his level best to shake the gorilla; it's not super effective. "We've got, we've got to fix this," he remembers to whisper as he goes on. Don't want to scare Callie, right. Daine is several animals, maybe one of them is competent. This is regeneration fever all over again, where did he put the chalk? "We have to do something."

[starlightcalliope]

If his goal was not to scare any children, he's forfeited any chance of that by his startled yelling. Calliope jumps and turns back to stare at him. The sight of the Doctor frantically shaking Daine in dismay and... fear? is truly shocking, and she blanches. She hadn't realized the queer anomalies in the TARDIS were so serious, oh no!

"What's the matter?", she squeaks, back to wringing her hands. "What can we do?"

[wildmage_daine]

Well, that's woken the Doctor up a bit. Daine could do without all the jostling, though. For a tense moment or two, she thinks the Doctor actually intends to clamber atop her as if she was a convenient piece of furniture and he was a lady of the court who'd just spied a mouse. Honestly. The floor might be unsightly, but it doesn't seem dangerous.

"I'm open to suggestions," she says with deliberate calm. As if she knows the first thing about how to treat an ailing time ship, let alone an ailing time lord. Her magic only works on animals, and the healing she learned from Ma was only for humans. Goddess knows if any of it would work on an alien.

... The TARDIS does have that two-legger shape, though. Maybe that part of her is too close to alien, too, but at least they could talk to it, and that'd be a step up from where they are, now. "If we found the TARDIS's human shape and treated that, would it help the rest of her?" she asks, looking up at the Doctor.

[whofrownedthisface]

The Doctor takes a break from gorilla-jostling to criticise Daine's suggestion, though he manages to do so with a surprising degree of neutrality, like a pragmatic but pessimistic construction site foreman inexplicably wearing a nightgown. "That'd never work, you'd be," he makes a huffy sound of calculation, gives up, "orders of magnitude out of your depths. Wrong direction to start from." The TARDIS's human form is a kind of non-load-bearing afterthought, as he understands it. Still, it's not entirely worthless as an idea, possibly. Well, it basically is, but it's got the gears turning, nonetheless. A bit more sluggishly than usual, but he's reasonably certain some of the thoughts he's having are precursors to actual ideas. At least until he sneezes again.

Bed forgotten, he sidles for the door with only a little wobbling. "I'll sort it. Callie, you just give me a good shake, if I fall asleep. Especially if it looks like I might be obstructing anything vital."

[starlightcalliope]

So... not quite that serious, then? Calliope looks back and forth between her friends in fretful bewilderment, not understanding why Daine isn't more concerned, or why even the Doctor is talking all reasonably all of a sudden. On second thought, perhaps his illness is simply making him startle easily? A bit of an odd effect, if so, but what does she know about illnesses, anyhow.

Either way, he seems slightly more put together now than when he was on the floor, and apparently they are going to help the TARDIS before sending him off to bed. "Um, will do," she agrees hesitantly, "but I'm afraid there is rather a lot to sort. I came across several eerie oddities just on my way here." She glances to Daine again, somewhat doubtful that they ought to be letting him wander off like this, but unsure what precisely to do about it. And someone probably should set the TARDIS to rights.

[wildmage_daine]

Given that the Doctor seems to have his work cut out for him just in staying upright and walking straight, Daine's not convinced he's capable of sorting anything. Trouble is, neither she nor Callie know the first thing about fixing an ill ship. At least the Doctor has a chance there, so long as he stays awake and manages to think straight.

Besides, what's the alternative? Haul him into bed and hold him there? She could manage that easily enough, but nobody would enjoy it, and it wouldn't help the TARDIS.

Daine sighs, then lapses into wolf shape. It seems she might be here a while, and wolf shape is easier to hold. She doesn't much want to ask the TARDIS for clothes, given the state the ship is in. "What's your plan?" she asks, somewhat dubiously. Does he even have one?

[whofrownedthisface]

Bless her heart, Callie's not had a chance to see the Doctor in this mode of existence, where he can go from gorilla-scaling to calm calculation on a dime. And can Daine just. Pick a shape. He flaps a hand at her, "Please, you're making me dizzy, don't be a zoo." This is what he has to work with, okay, well then. A naive but plucky alien child and a roulette wheel of wildlife. The Doctor claps his hands together in determination. He'll make do. Though it is a bit chilly in here, isn't it? The hand-chafing is now more for warmth's sake, and the Doctor looks a bit unnerved. "It's not like just putting the place to rights after a party, no real point in sorting any of this mess until we can get at the root of the problem." He says this with great authority, as he hauls the duvet off the bed and drapes it around his shoulders with a cape-y flourish. No, he doesn't have a real plan, just the intention to shoot down whatever they suggest.

[starlightcalliope]

Calliope is rather a bit more impressed by Daine's change of shape and stares for a moment, enraptured, until she remembers staring is probably rude. It's just so fascinating! Meanwhile, the Doctor is sounding reassuringly focused and claps his let's-get-started clap. And... he has a cape now. Admittedly, that's quite odd, but perhaps not odder than the rest of this morning overall.

So they have to puzzle out what the root of the problem could be. What, indeed, could affect such a large and complicated living place as the TARDIS, in a chaotic and disruptive manner? She frowns pensively for a moment, and suddenly looks up at the Doctor in dismay as a truly terrible thought occurs to her. "You don't think it might be a sort of cancer, do you?" She's come to understand the TARDIS as a kind of living universe in itself, a rather small one perhaps, or at least a benevolent planet much like Skaia. And that's the first thing she knows to harm a being like that.

[wildmage_daine]

"It's probably just rift mischief," Daine says, punctuating it with a reassuring wag of her tail. Maybe she's too quick to blame the rift, but it usually is the problem. She can't imagine anything else that would cause the TARDIS to fall ill. Didn't she say something about the rift weakening her?

If it is rift-related, that probably means it'll clear up on its own, leaving everything back to normal in a day or so. That's a long time to wait in a ship that's coming to pieces around your ears, though. They ought to be able to make her more comfortable, for her own sake and for the folk who live in her. "Console room, then?" she guesses, looking up at the Doctor.

[whofrownedthisface]

For once the Doctor is inclined to agree with Daine, at least to some degree. 'Rift mischief' could encompass quite a variety of truly terrible things, he really doesn't think the average riftugee grasps the full scope of that potential 'mischief.' The rift could let in a sudden influx of monsters, parasites, a plague, or maybe just let out all the energy of the universe in one big draft like a leaky window extinguishing a candle flame. He looks shocked at Callie's suggestion, though it's very much more alarm at the morbidity of it than putting any stock in it. "What, have you been Googling symptoms? Well, never do that," he says, with an arcane, cautioning gesture. "The smarmy marmot is very likely on to something," he allows, begrudgingly. "Console room is probably a good place to start." The Doctor re-hitches his blanket-cape and trudges for the door, with noticeably less vigour than is typical.