It's been some time since Scyrusil - called Scy to most - got sick, but he's feeling it now. Of course, he's not sure what he's feeling. He's tired, he's feverish, and he's hungry. Maybe it's a bug he picked up from Sunny, they've been feeling off too.
The elementalist-baker is not known for his harsh nature, but he's on edge, not sure if he wants to confront them. Their background is so complicated... Tree only knows how he's going to make up for his failure. How he even feels about Sunny. How they feel about him. It's all so complicated.
Now, though? Now he just wants to know what's wrong. So even though he's dizzy, delirious with pain, he staggers to where he last saw them. At least it's late - his path is not interrupted.
Sunny has been much worse for wear. When Scy opens the door to the bedroom - his own, which he had been abruptly forced out of when, in their derilium, Sunny broke in and all but gutted him for being in it - what he finds is an absolute mess. No gore, thankfully, but the place looks more like it's been inhabited by an angry animal than it does a shelter for an ailing pseudo-sylvari. Furnishings here and there have been knocked from their proper positions, in some places their contents spilled and scattered around the room, and the inside of the door has been clearly raked by short, pensive claws. No signs of injury, though, at least not any that would leave a trace. If not for the heat that hangs thick in the room, it would be easy to assume Sunny isn't around, as the window sits opened to the night outside and they aren't immediately visible.
A closer scan, however, shows a familiar shadow, hiding behind the overturned bed. A luminous pink eye peering at him with a burning stare.
He's not even up for that scan, he's tired. Some instinct tells him to get out of the door, as it frames his silhouette, so he enters the room, doing his best to stay upright despite the fever his body simply isn't built to handle. His soul integrated far better than theirs.
"Sunny?" His voice is tremulous. He's pretty sure they're in here, but leaning on a wall and looking around, he's distracted by the mess. This will take a while.
What answers is a harsh sound of startled dragging and scrambling as they retreat behind the bed, which jostles slightly. There's a sound of heavy, slightly labored breathing, its volume slightly higher as air huffs against something. Are they trying to hide from him now?
Their voice doesn't sound quite right, undercut by a noise that sounds almost like a hiss or a rush of air through narrow channels. There's more movement, and now that Scy is closer, he would hear more clearly how heavy the dragging sound is, a slick, slithering weight.
"Don't-" Don't look. They couldn't say it. "I'm fine, just go."
"Don't... come closer?" He sighs, shaking his head. "You can't get me sick, Sunny. I'm already sick."
He tries to stand up, but ends up just. Sliding down the wall with a wry chuckle. All 7 feet of him. "What a pair." Then he coughs for about 10 seconds.
More dragging and a...chitter? "'m not worried about sick," comes their reply as they again peek at him from behind the bed, one clawed hand gripping the frame. Sunny's hands have been clawed as long as Scy's known them, but are those claws...sharper? It's not easy to see in the gloom, but they're wicked curves that pierce into the wood frame, making it groan under a bone-crushing grip.
They look him down. Something seems generally off, between the two of them. Long ears prick up slightly and finally they talk to him in a more familiar (albeit slightly slurred) way.
"Think so. Can't seem to chase this fever, and I'm so tired and sore. Like you were last week. You feeling any better?"
It's true that he's glowing brighter than he should be this early. It's true that he's barely able to move. But it's definitely still in the early stages.
Yes and no. Physically? Much better. Emotionally, especially with this news? About as bad as they've ever felt, which is saying something when you've stared right into the black hole trying to eat your timeline. But they really don't want to explain to Scy what's been happening to them, nor are they all that keen on having to break it to him that something similar might be in his own future, too.
They duck back behind the bed, this time to prop their own back against it. "Kind of. Iunno."
An uncomfortable pause, more sliding. "I didn' fink it was contashious..."
For a moment, there's no answer. Sunny's too busy warring with themself over what to do to immediately go check on him, but after what feels like forever they finally let out a soft warbling sigh and say, "Just...brace yourself, okay?"
Then they slooowly crawl around the bed to approach him. They're crawling because...well. They don't really have legs anymore. What follows them instead is a long, heavy tail, adorned with a bristling mane of reedy fronds that runs all the way down from their hair, which is longer than he'd last seen it and still pinched into a stubborn ponytail. Dark shapes move with them on either side, and as they cautiously creep closer to him it becomes evident that they're small wings, all bark and fibrous muscle and durable, opaque webbing, albeit much too small and heavy for gliding, never mind flight. Even their face is slightly different, extended into a short snout and decorated with four black-and-magenta eyes and a few luminous chin whiskers. If not for the dark making them look so menacing, they'd probably almost look cute, with a sort of puppyish charm to their new snoot, but awash in shadows as they are, it's hard not to note the menace of the silhouette they cut in the dim moonlight through the window.
They approach extremely slowly, not wanting to startle him. Expecting panic or bile or...whatever else is normal when confronted with a weird snake dragon monster thing. One hand - properly taloned and slightly webbed, it's now evident - rises just so in a mild gesture of 'may I?'
They take him in all the while, almost as much has he's likely examining them, noting first and foremost the change in height before zeroing in on...whatever's happening to his torso.
He pauses in his coughing when they come, mostly because he pauses in his breathing. He lets out a slow exhale as they get close enough to touch. "... Is this a Mordremoth thing?" He doesn't want it to be. His bark is still silky smooth, limbs too long and face slightly shifted from his last encounter with that now-dead dragon.
"It hurts, Sunny. It hurts to breathe." His torso is shifting inside, he's dimly aware that must be what's happening now. He's changing. It's painful and horrible, and scarier than it was last time, though that could just be the lack of a guiding voice in the back of his head.
They shake their head and delicately reach out to him with one clawed hand, hoping to inspect whatever may be there. They would really rather not - this level of intimacy, it's something they aren't used to with anybody, except perhaps the brothers when they might need it, but with Scy it feels...strange. Not quite wrong, but unfamiliar. There's something old, tired, and beaten deep inside them that responds to him in a way that reminds them a little too much of what they are, of how transient their being them might be. But they'll try to help him this time, if only because they're pretty certain it's their fault.
"No, I don't think it is. I, um." A moment's hesitation before they make contact. They're still very warm, but not as blazing hot as they have been. "If it was, I...don't think it would be affecting me. But never mind that, we should see what you're dealing with, since..."
They trail off, not entirely wanting to admit it's from them. Or at least not brave enough to put it into words.
His heart is beating frantically, painfully. He's not sure what's happening, and he's scared. Observing his chest leads to more than that, though - something is wrong with his systems. Even in his panicked state, his heart rate is gradually slowing. While one can hope it's from comfort, the truth is seldom so gentle.
His bark is more solid than its usual, petal-like texture, but no less smooth. Like polished marble, almost. He pants, trying desperately to draw air as his lungs grow firmer. Something presses against his back's flesh, and he tries weakly to tug at it. His movements are slower than usual.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Here's the boy!
The elementalist-baker is not known for his harsh nature, but he's on edge, not sure if he wants to confront them. Their background is so complicated... Tree only knows how he's going to make up for his failure. How he even feels about Sunny. How they feel about him. It's all so complicated.
Now, though? Now he just wants to know what's wrong. So even though he's dizzy, delirious with pain, he staggers to where he last saw them. At least it's late - his path is not interrupted.
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A closer scan, however, shows a familiar shadow, hiding behind the overturned bed. A luminous pink eye peering at him with a burning stare.
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"Sunny?" His voice is tremulous. He's pretty sure they're in here, but leaning on a wall and looking around, he's distracted by the mess. This will take a while.
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"Ow..." He barely catches himself against a wall. "What's wrong with me today...?"
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Their voice doesn't sound quite right, undercut by a noise that sounds almost like a hiss or a rush of air through narrow channels. There's more movement, and now that Scy is closer, he would hear more clearly how heavy the dragging sound is, a slick, slithering weight.
"Don't-" Don't look. They couldn't say it. "I'm fine, just go."
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He tries to stand up, but ends up just. Sliding down the wall with a wry chuckle. All 7 feet of him. "What a pair." Then he coughs for about 10 seconds.
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They look him down. Something seems generally off, between the two of them. Long ears prick up slightly and finally they talk to him in a more familiar (albeit slightly slurred) way.
"Wait, sick? Like, my shick?"
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It's true that he's glowing brighter than he should be this early. It's true that he's barely able to move. But it's definitely still in the early stages.
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Yes and no. Physically? Much better. Emotionally, especially with this news? About as bad as they've ever felt, which is saying something when you've stared right into the black hole trying to eat your timeline. But they really don't want to explain to Scy what's been happening to them, nor are they all that keen on having to break it to him that something similar might be in his own future, too.
They duck back behind the bed, this time to prop their own back against it. "Kind of. Iunno."
An uncomfortable pause, more sliding. "I didn' fink it was contashious..."
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His bark creaks as he moves to catch the cough, and he groans, holding his chest and stomach. "Ow..."
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Then they slooowly crawl around the bed to approach him. They're crawling because...well. They don't really have legs anymore. What follows them instead is a long, heavy tail, adorned with a bristling mane of reedy fronds that runs all the way down from their hair, which is longer than he'd last seen it and still pinched into a stubborn ponytail. Dark shapes move with them on either side, and as they cautiously creep closer to him it becomes evident that they're small wings, all bark and fibrous muscle and durable, opaque webbing, albeit much too small and heavy for gliding, never mind flight. Even their face is slightly different, extended into a short snout and decorated with four black-and-magenta eyes and a few luminous chin whiskers. If not for the dark making them look so menacing, they'd probably almost look cute, with a sort of puppyish charm to their new snoot, but awash in shadows as they are, it's hard not to note the menace of the silhouette they cut in the dim moonlight through the window.
They approach extremely slowly,
not wanting to startle him. Expecting panic or bile or...whatever else is normal when confronted with a weird snake dragon monster thing. One hand - properly taloned and slightly webbed, it's now evident - rises just so in a mild gesture of 'may I?'
They take him in all the while, almost as much has he's likely examining them, noting first and foremost the change in height before zeroing in on...whatever's happening to his torso.
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"It hurts, Sunny. It hurts to breathe." His torso is shifting inside, he's dimly aware that must be what's happening now. He's changing. It's painful and horrible, and scarier than it was last time, though that could just be the lack of a guiding voice in the back of his head.
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"No, I don't think it is. I, um." A moment's hesitation before they make contact. They're still very warm, but not as blazing hot as they have been. "If it was, I...don't think it would be affecting me. But never mind that, we should see what you're dealing with, since..."
They trail off, not entirely wanting to admit it's from them. Or at least not brave enough to put it into words.
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His bark is more solid than its usual, petal-like texture, but no less smooth. Like polished marble, almost. He pants, trying desperately to draw air as his lungs grow firmer. Something presses against his back's flesh, and he tries weakly to tug at it. His movements are slower than usual.