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

[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.