[log] Event: Metamorphosis, Part One [closed]

[snowblindmods]

Characters: infected characters
Location: ???
Date: ???
Summary: Something is wrong.
Warnings: severe sickness, nausea, vomiting, blood, things moving under the skin; make sure to warn for what's specifically happening in your thread

Comments

CW: Feeling like things under the skin and coughing up blood eventually

[darkincrement]

A.
[ When he wakes up, first thing he does is to throw off his helmet. Then he's scrambling to get into a corner of the room. Someone is having a panic attack because waking up some where new again, and feeling sick.

As soon as he manages to get his breathing some what regulated, he's going to try talking. ]

Oh Goody, think Miller isn't done yet?

[ His voice is sore from Miller's last romp in their heads and not really talking. ]

B.
[ Later, Vanitas will start feeling worst. He'll be pulling off his gloves to scratch at his skin, or doubled over coughing hard. It's almost wet sounding, like there's fluid in his lungs. Whatever he coughs up, he'll be promptly hiding it. ]

A

[phaseshifter]

I'd bet a great deal of money on it. I don't think I see anyone here who was confirmed awake during what went down last time, so it's a pretty safe thing that this is his doing. Intended or not.

[ There's no panic on Angel's part - as usual, she's both calm and calming. Or trying to be calming, anyway. Vanitas' panic attack was kind of hard to miss, and while Angel is erring on the side of tact and not mentioning it she's still a little bit concerned. IT HOW SHE DO. ]

I wonder if we're sleeping again, or if we've disappeared?

B

[termineur]

[ Gabriel has found Vanitas' corner and gotten himself situated nearby. He's been coughing, too, but mostly he's been trying to ignore his own symptoms (with varying degrees of success). Occasionally, a muscle twitch or some other indiscernible thing makes him wince.

When he hears Vanitas cough up something substantial, though, his eyes open. His voice croaks as he speaks. ]

This is probably all a hallucination. The- the nanomachines glitching out on us again.

A - cw: elecricity under the skin, nausea

[deus_ex_phs]

What makes you think Miller had anything to do with this?

[He's not arguing. He's curious.

He's also looking for anything he can find to take his mind off the feeling of electricity crawling through his veins and the churning of nausea in his gut.]

A

[fiftheclipse]

[Want an answer that's just as negative as the question? Because that's all Junpei's any good at right now. It might be a helpful distraction to keep that panic attack from returning. Or it might make things worse. But he has too much of a soft spot for this kid to just ignore him.]

He's not gonna be done until we beat him.

The hell is he trying to get out of this?

cw SO MUCH body horror, alien/parasite references, blood, bloody coughing, nausea, ptsd, depression

[zunesareawesome]

cw continued: potential self-harm, character death talk, suicidal ideation and suicide talk, all content warnings applicable for all threads

A.

[Yeah, this isn't good.

It doesn't look like there's any way out of this room, so Peter's just gonna...sit here. Coughing. He's been feeling awful for some time already, a cold that never seemed to go away and was steadily getting worse, and when he coughs, there's blood.

Well.

That's great.

Something awful is going to happen.

So he's just gonna lie here on the floor sprawled out.]

B.

[Lying on the ground is surprisingly boring and he gets tired of that pretty quickly. If something's gonna happen it's gonna happen regardless and he'd really rather not be bored waiting for it.

Except it kinda feels like something is happening.

Peter's walking around, when he stops cold, because it feels like there's something moving in him.

And not just like, bad gas.

Like actually something rummaging around in there. He can feel it in his chest, in his stomach, in his arms, his legs--he takes off his jacket quickly, with a yelp of alarm, rolling up his sleeves.]

There's something there, man!

[He's not speaking to anybody in particular, mostly himself.]

What the hell, what the hell--

[It looks like there's something, something big moving just under his skin, like something's trying to get out. He lifts his shirt, and it's there, too, pushing against his chest--

...he's seen this movie. This is why he's been feeling so bad.]

Aliens!

[And not just...you know, him being an alien. Like, Aliens, Aliens. Capital A.]

B

[termineur]

[ Gabriel stares at Peter, looking pale and actually rather small from his position on the floor.
He gets the reference, and he really wishes he didn't this time.]

No. No, it can't be. We've gotta be hallucinating this. The nanomachines are bugging out. That's what it's always been in these rooms.

B

[devoutish]

No, parasites, I think.

[Alfie's staring at his hand with a detached sort of expression on his face, watching something small and wormlike moving under the skin.]

cw: nausea, vomiting

[revenantking]

A

[Roland has never been to this room, but his reaction would have been the same if he had. President Crane lowers himself to a kneel and sits in what he'd been told was called seiza- something he had practiced before a trip to Japan- the picture of dignity. To act on what his body wanted to do would break one of the only political rules he has sworn himself to in the seven years he's spent in office: Never let them see you bleed.

If it were just America or England here, that would be one thing, but to lose his composure in front of all of these people was something Roland was not willing to do. And perhaps if some had assurances that not everyone was feeling the brunt of the symptoms, they might not panic...]

B

[Trying to keep himself together in the face of severe illness was not a simple task. His eyes are shut in deep concentration as sweat beads on his forehead. The hands laid on his knees have tensed, fingernails boring deep into the leather kneecaps of his boots. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying to suppress the urge to vomit.

He could feel something moving around in him - worst of all in the pit of his stomach, where it felt like something was worming its way deep inside. Meditation could only do so much to distract him - Roland's breath hitches as he remembers the parasite, and saliva beings to flood his mouth to protect his throat from stomach acid.

Don't. Just breathe- He swallows whatever is trying to work its way up his throat, but chokes in the effort. A trickle of dark fluid leaks from the corner of his mouth. He moves to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but the dignified position he had tried so hard to maintain collapses, and he topples sideways, hardly supporting himself with one arm. His muscles are alight in fiery pain, spasming in a combination of illness and fatigue for all the effort he had taken to make himself seem fine.]

A

[cahooted]

Are you alright?

[Flynn has been wandering the room for a while, trying to keep himself and his spiraling thoughts occupied, so anything that stands out his mind latches onto with immediate curiosity.]

Are you meditating?

B

[holmesice]

[Mycroft's sitting nearby--well, it's sort of sitting, he's in too much of a terrible state to really notice either way, but he can tell when someone's trying desperately to retain their composure.

He too is quite good at it.]

There's really no point. [It's dry, his voice is a little weak.] Everyone is going to see you at your worst quite soon.

[He's also not really going to help you out there. That's just not his thing.]

B

[warriorscribe]

[There is someone there to try to help him back upright, straining through his own pain. Enoch, unable to stand - too many movements, too much jostling of the spiked thing inside him - pushes his shoulder into Roland's arm, offering himself to prop the other up again.]

H-here, [he croaks hoarsely. The position of the person he'd been moving towards - Roland, whom he'd never met face to face, had been unchanging until now. Perhaps that kneel was the most comfortable for him?]

cw: body horror, blood, coughing, nausea, dissociation, PTSD, nervous breakdown, religion

[cahooted]

A.

[Flynn hasn't been in too many white rooms, not like the others who have spent longer, more horrid months in this place. There's been the Pit, yes, and there's been the red line torture dungeon which, wow, SO not trying to think about right now, thank you, but he can still maintain a relatively healthy distance to it.

Meaning he's not currently screaming his guts out.

Yet.

But he understands that this is bad. He remembers this place from dreams and fake memories, distant and separate as being not real (though, honestly, what is real and what isn't these days?) so his reaction isn't as visceral, as panicked.

Instead, he looks around with almost detached curiosity on his face, his lips moving soundlessly as he's thinking out loud, but his usual monologue to himself is rendered speechless quite literally with his vocal chords still damaged.

Until he leans forward and pointedly pinches the nearest person's arm. It's a very valid, very scientific method.]


B.

[It's INSIDE him, coursing through his veins, unnatural and wrong.

Flynn hasn't felt anything like this since the words of Solomon seeped into him, into his body and his eyes are wild, unfocused and panicked because that just means that the world is ENDING, it's ending RIGHT NOW.

He's stumbling around, coughing up blood, angry and slightly delirious, shaking his fist into the air from time to time.]

Is that you, Jerry!? You think you get to me like that? You think I need the book? You think I need it!? I used it for you, I can use it against you!

[He's spreading his arms wide in a really very unnecessarily dramatic fashion, his voice gravely (thanks to his damaged vocal chords, mind you) looking up at... whatever he expects to find at the ceiling.]

I conjure thee, O creature of fire! By Him who removeth the Earth and maketh it tremble and now burn and torment these spirits so that they may feel it intensely, that they may be burned eternally by thee, I exorcize thee, O creature of fire! That they may work no hindrance or evil unto those who use it!

B

[godsspeed]

Flynn. [ Castiel is not exactly doing the best job of keeping his grip on reality either at the moment, propped up against a wall and glassy-eyed with nausea and fever - but he does have it together enough to sit up slightly and try to get Flynn's attention, however weakly with his voice even more of a hoarse croak than usual. ]

Flynn. Whatever you think is happening is probably not. You can't invoke anything here, other than maybe the ghost collective. [ Though that didn't turn out so well last time they tried and is continuing to not turn out so well, so. ]

B. (cw references to gore/Alien)

[zunesareawesome]

[...this is bad.

Peter hasn't really seen Flynn this bad since...well, maybe ever. And look, maybe he's about to have an alien shoot out of his own chest but he thinks he'll know when it happens cause it's supposed to be really painful so right now he's technically okay but--]

Flynn? Dude?

[He approaches from the side, raising his hands.]

You okay, man? There's no Jerry here. Nothin's on fire?

B!

[bookofnope]

It's not going to work.

[Beckett speaks with remarkable confidence, considering his voice is a low rasp. And that he is flat on his back, staring at the white ceiling. Arms spread, legs stretched out, unmoving. Eyes shut. To all appearances a corpse except for his slow breathing, very slow, too slow really. Like he only bothers to take a breath when his body absolutely must.]

It isn't magic. Nothing is. Nothing ever was. We only ever were illusions. Perhaps something did exist once, but -

[He pauses for a moment, as one half-hearted breath catches somewhere deep, deep in his lungs, and the burst of coughing that follows makes his spine arc up with the effort of it. He brings up blood, but that passes as unnoticed as anything, trickling down his face to the floor. Just a mortal body, who cares that it rots.]

It's gone. This is all that's left.

[Giving up makes perfect sense, under the circumstances.]

A

[termineur]

[ Gabriel groans when he's pinched. But hey, at least the pinch distracts him from the nausea for a moment. ]

Ow. Come on. What're you even testing for, there?

A

[holmesice]

[...did you just.

Did you just pinch him!?

Mycroft jumps about a mile. Right now he very much misses the ability to send a helicopter down or a fleet of government cars to escort anyone he wishes as far away as possible.]

Was that really necessary!?

CW: sensation of things on skin/insects, sort of; nausea

[godsspeed]

[ Well, this is unpleasant. Even after multiple rounds of this in its various permutations across his time in Norfinbury, Castiel is still a being unaccustomed to sickness. He takes to it poorly, lying and writhing on the floor as he tries to find a position that relieves some of the directionless, feverish ache and the sensation of crawling on borrowed skin. He's pale and clammy and his clothes and even the air against his skin feel like needles jabbing into him, not to mention the agony that is his own weight against the floor, but if he stops moving it only gets worse. ]

Is the room spinning this time, or is it just vertigo, again? [ He asks, weakly, batting half-heartedly at what feels like insects clambering all over him but always, always turns out to be nothing. ]

[termineur]

It's vertigo.

[ Gabriel responds just after a coughing fit, and trying to speak causes it to flare up again. But after a few moments, he collects himself again. ]

At least, I think so. Hard to tell when everything's white like this. None of it's probably real, anyway.

cw: sickness, nausea, blood, under skin things, all of it

[bywolves]

A.

[ Royce stays curled up off in his corner, away from most people at first. He's silent, his huge, oversized cloak covering him up, hood over his face. He doesn't really want to talk - it hurts to, first of all, he's still sore, but secondly because he doesn't know who to trust here anymore. It's been him and Alfie alone so long (and Ecks now, too, Ecks has been with them a while) that it's hard to remember what it's like to have a conversation with people who aren't them.

But he does cough, every so often, muffling it. It's a few times before he coughs into his scarred hands, and wearily wipes the blood off on the wall next to him. Nowhere else to put it. ]

B.

[ But later, he creeps out to the others around, and stops in front of them. He holds out a shaking arm, and in a tired, hoarse voice, asks: ] Do you see this, or is it just me?

[ There's crawling - the sharp, sudden skittering movement of cockroaches under the skin of his forearm. He shudders, seeing it, and swallows hard, trying not to throw up. He just needs to know he's not crazy. ]

A.

[cahooted]

[It's weird and wrong, recognizing someone by the way the curl up when they're in pain.

It probably says a lot about this place, too, and how you met people but here they are and here Flynn is and the memory is distant and detached but still there. In that house but not in that house. Talking but not talking. Distracting each other from radiation poisoning but never having met. Being there and at the same time not.]

Royce?

[It hurts to talk but what is he supposed to do? Poke him? He'd rather not get stabbed if his fake memories are in any way accurate.]

Is that you?

CW for coughing blood and skin crawling feeling, so far. Won't be visible at any point.

[fiftheclipse]

[1]

A- again...?

[Of course something was going to happen, and of course it wasn't going to be anything good. Junpei had already known that much. But what he hadn't expected was it waiting until now. Until after he'd had enough time to let his guard back down. If he'd stayed awake later, would he have maybe had a chance? Or was it hopeless from the start?

For the first little while, it's not all hitting him. The dizziness and the weakness, sure, as his first instinct is to stand and find himself collapsing back to his knees. But the rest? ... No, his emotions have always been able to overwhelm him, and it's no different right now with frustration and worry keeping the physical side at bay.

This might be the easiest time for anyone with theories to approach him.]


[2]

[Though he may have started off too bothered by the where to really notice the what, after a while it'll become pretty clear that Junpei's suffering just like everyone else. Pain's begun to set in, refusing to stay in any one place, and too deep to try guessing at a source or cause. And the fits of coughing... Why does his throat have to keep getting messed up so often, lately? It leads to even more that he's not so sure of: whether the nausea's something else, or from the sight of his own blood.

But as awful as this all feels, there's people worse off than him, aren't there? What little he's picked up so far seemed like.. hallucinations, again? Or is it real? Either way, it's not fair that this is happening to anyone, and to whatever extent he can without straying too far from a wall for support, he has to push himself to at least try to help out.]

You okay?

[... It's kind of a pathetic sight, and he can't offer all that much more than a distraction. But, the effort still has to count for something...]

1

[cahooted]

[They really have to stop meeting in these places. Or maybe they don't because Junpei's presence is comforting, something familiar, something he can latch onto. Someone he knows will try to tackle this in a similar fashion.

Theories. Talking. Sharing ideas. Anything to keep their minds buzzing and working and not succumbing to whatever the town has in store for them this time.

... It really doesn't help that all their distracting each other at the Pit really didn't have that much of an effect in the long run. But Flynn can ignore that. In fact, he can very pointedly ignore that. And he will, despite the pain in his chest and the blood he's threatening to cough up and the way his mind is spinning out of control.

Details.]

So.

No gaping nightmare-inducing hole in the floor this time. I'd say it's a step up?

cw ptsd and dissociation; vomit; parasites under the skin

[thewarningafter]

A
It feels less real this time. No, that's not it. He feels less real this time. Stephen watches the room from somewhere deep behind his own eyes. It registers, dimly, that he can't move, that he likely couldn't get up from where he lays sprawled on the floor even if he had the will to do so. Movement catches his eye and his gaze sluggishly turns on whoever has come near.

"I'm going to vomit."

It's just a statement of fact given in a voice still gravely with injury. He's not wrong; one might want to step clear if one wants to keep one's shoes clean.


B
Later, when Stephen is more himself again, more present, he hauls himself upright. He feels, if anything, worse than before, and he can't hide the tremble in his hands as he makes his way around the room. He keeps looking at his hands, too, his brow tightly knitted as he tries to catch -- no. He can't see it. It's never there when he looks.

He glances up and sees someone nearby.

"Have you--?" he starts to ask only to cut off with a little cry as his legs abruptly buckle under him.

B

[termineur]

Gabriel's sitting on the floor when Stephen comes by- he's had his own muscle problems, with things twitching oddly or just plain giving out. He's been taking a break from checking on people- he needed a few minutes to try and refocus himself away from the awful feeling under his skin and the coughing.

But he's glad to see Stephen- he doesn't quite smile, but he seems to relax a little. And of course, then lets out his own little noise of distress as Stephen comes tumbling down. "Hey- hey, don't..." he says, sort of half-crawling over to his friend. "You okay?" He'll try to help Stephen right himself, at least, even if he can't help with much else.

cw: blood, possibly things moving under the skin, internal injury

[warriorscribe]

A

[He knows this pain. He knows it, but it feels like ages ago. He knows it, and once thought it was the worst he could be subjected to.

A Wisp. Belial's spawn, living balls of spikes and flame. There's a Wisp in him, churning, spinning, burning, tearing him up from the inside without being physical enough to cause lasting harm. He wakes up clutching his stomach in pain, screaming, dreading the inevitable puppeteering of his own body.

But it never comes. There's just the pain, searing through him and making his entire body tremble. His screams die down into moans as his abused throat fails him, and sometimes are interrupted as he coughs up blood, and it drips down his face onto the floor. He's not doing particularly well, but in truth, it could be much worse. It has been much worse. There is no outside control this time and somewhere deep inside, Enoch realizes it is a blessing. If after all this, physical pain is all he has to endure?]


B

[Coherent thought manages to reassert itself, somehow. Even shaking and sobbing in pain, every movement bringing a spasm that could be his muscles failing him or simply a new wave of agony, he pushes himself to hands and knees. He isn't the only one here. The others. He has to check on the others! Angel, Beckett, Peter, Flynn, House, John, everyone, are they all right?

He sees a shape in his pain-blurred vision and crawls their way, a stumbling, starting mess that sometimes collapses to the floor entirely, with a hoarse cry when he does. Sometimes, you might be able to track him across the floor by the droplets of blood he leaves when he coughs more up. But he presses on, pain and all, until he can reach out for them with a shaking hand.]

Are you- [His voice is raw and weak, and so is he - he might even collapse right there.] -are you all right? Can I do anything?

B. cw body horror, alien/parasite references

[zunesareawesome]

Enoch, oh man.

[Look, Peter's in a pretty bad state, he's coughing and feels awful, but look at you, bro.]

Chill out, don't...don't move. Don't worry about me.

CW: Things moving under the skin; self-multilation; blood; nausea; vomiting; breakdown

[ninjainviolet]

A:

[ When Sheena wakes up, the first thing that hits her is the nausea, and for a while, she doesn't open her eyes as she hopes it'll go away. Because being sick in front of others is beyond embarrassing--and she can hear others moving about.

Then it hits her that it's not cold here. Nor is it exactly warm.

Slowly opening one eye, she notices the different room and sits up quickly. An action she immediately regrets as whatever she had had on her stomach makes it way up and out--reinjuring her throat and bringing up some blood. Covering her mouth, she grabs the end of her obi and starts cleaning things up. ]

What the hell is going on here?

B:

[ Lying down when nauseous is supposed to make people feel better. But Sheena isn't exactly the best patient, so keeping her down is a struggle in and of itself.

But things are even harder this go around, as the ninja feels like there's something stabbing her--no matter how she lays. Finally giving up, she sits up, and lets her eyes fall on to her hands.

And lets out a loud sound of surprised horror that other around her will definitely hear.

If anyone looks, they'll suddenly see the ninja tearing at her gloves and sleeves, trying to get them off as she begins scratching at herself. Sometimes hard enough to leave trails of blood--which will only get worse as she continues.

The reason why is soon very clear. ]

The ants! The ants are under my skin! I've got to get them out!

cw: nausea/vomitting, dissociation, things crawling under skin, coughing, blood, and maybe pstd

[heroproceeding]

A.

[ Waking up in a white room already grips him uneasily. Or maybe that tight knot's already been there. He's been there so long now, sometimes it's hard to tell anymore what's fear and what's-

Oh.

Oh, nope. That's definitely.

Zack grips his stomach as he tries to turn over so he can at least lose his lunch in a way that's not all over himself.

Of course... That sure isn't going to stop him from accidentally puking on someone else. ]

B.

[ It figures, he still feels sick to his stomach.

But it sure hadn't stopped him from trying to move anyway. He still hasn't seen Zell or Jim. Maybe they're the lucky ones though. Maybe they're still out there in the town. Maybe he and the others are the only ones trapped down- wherever this is. He argues anyway. It's better than worrying over what's happening anyway.

It's hard to anyway. Hard when he clumsily stumbles over his own feet and then has to just stop and hunch over with one hand on his knee while he coughs. Wiping the back of his mouth gives him pause when he feels... he doesn't know what he feels, but it's enough for him to very reluctantly pull a sleeve up.

And immediately curse and pull it back down.

But the crawling sensation doesn't go away and he's suddenly trying to go for one of his belts, hurriedly pulling it through the loops. ] Shiva, come on!

C.

[ Later on, Zack's found himself in a corner of the room away from the others and hunched up. He keeps spewing nonsense for the most part with a few names in between between coughing fits. He looks up as someone passes him, but it's more like he's looking through them, staring blankly before pulling tighter to the belt he'd wrapped around his arm earlier, shuddering. ]

D.

[ Bring your own scenario. ]

B

[deus_ex_phs]

[Just as Zack pulls his belt free-]

You know, maybe it's just me, Zack, but I don't think now's a good time to take off your pants.