beverly crusher, md (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ethnobotany) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sixthiterationlogs2017-08-16 08:58 pm
ethnobotany) wrote in sixthiterationlogs2017-08-16 08:58 pm
i wear my heart on my shirt
WHO: Beverly Crusher
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.
August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.
Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.
The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."
Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.
For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.
WHERE: The Inn, her house, fountain square, the spring
WHEN: August 15-20
OPEN TO: every section is OTA
WARNINGS: Mentions of: death, terrorist attacks, being held hostage. She'll be having delirious flashbacks and I'll update warnings as needed based on threads.
August 15th is mostly a normal day for Beverly. The luncheon is nice, the only difference to her day. Otherwise, she spends the day at the hospital doing her duty or at her house, working in the garden or inside. It's while she's in the garden that she begins to notice how... off she feels. It isn't much at first, though she wobbles a bit when she tries to move and can often be found leaning over with her hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Sometimes she's even very obviously leaning against the fence itself for support, and she isn't entirely sure she can manage to make it through.
Eventually, she manages to get back into the house. Just inside the door, she calls out, "Jean-Luc―" and falls to her knees on the floor.
The 16th hits her hard. Visitors may be welcome to stop by while she's sick, but she may or may not be lucid. During those lucid moments, she's chilled and feverish and very obviously ill, but she can at least hold a decent conversation. When she isn't lucid... less than pleasant may not accurately describe her condition. She paces when she can pull herself out of bed, and when Jean-Luc will allow her to. While stuck in bed, she rolls and tosses, not entirely aware of her surroundings, and can be heard mentioning something called the "Ansata" or "Cardassians" with a tone of distate mixed with fear. Someone lucky might even hear "Q" in a tone of quiet loathing. The unlucky may hear something else in a tone of cold and very real fear: "It's the Borg."
Early on the 17th, she starts escaping. It's never for long, but any time Jean-Luc needs to use the bathroom or make tea or food or check on her garden or even closes his eyes for half a second she takes the opportunity to flee. She's fast for someone who's as ill as she is. Clearly there's a lot of built-up energy inside her. Either that or she's literally running on empty and will drop to the ground in the next instant. Either way, she ends up in places like the Inn or fountain square. One time, she even makes it to the spring, where she ends up cooling herself off by swallowing a bit of it at some point. By the end of the day, she's back in bed.
For the 18th and 19th, she stays in bed for any visitors who might want to come by again, but this time Jean-Luc is stricter about her confinement. It's just as well, though she isn't in any frame of mind and hasn't the strength to escape again. By the 20th she has miraculously recovered and after lunch, she heads back to the Inn to see if she can find anyone who visited or might have heard that she was ill so she can reassure them that she's fine.
no subject
But it's obvious she's not about to go without checking herself - medical people are all the same, they always want to be their own doctors, they're as bad as him with his gear - and that's about as much as Clint is willing to humor her on this. She's already nearly fallen into the fountain once, and he's not about to give her another opportunity. She might try and fight him, but Clint drops her hands to bend down and sweep her up in a fireman's carry, positioning his arms so that if she does start to lash out, she won't be able to get up much speed and take him out on accident. "Come on, Bev, you're going to bed." The bag he dropped will be left there until he's seen that she's all right - it'll keep for a bit.
no subject
Her relief is two-fold; she's glad she won't be turning into a drone and that she won't be a walking reminder to Jean-Luc of a time he'd likely prefer to forget.
When Clint leans over to sweep her off her feet, she's more surprised than anything. He's lucky for that and the fact that she likes him enough not to protest too much. So the most he gets is a surprised yelp and a slight struggle that doesn't really do much of anything. In fact, being in this position is going to give her something of a headache, but that's preferable to a lot of other things. Like kicking him in the face.
Once he gets her into the house, she'll direct him to her room, where he can set her down in bed. Not that she looks terribly pleased to be here, but it's probably a good thing he has kids and is immune to any sort of pouting or sulking.
"Thank you for taking me home," she offers, still looking a bit sulky.
no subject
And he's thankful she is that close, since even though she can't hurt him, Bev's still fussing enough that she's starting to squirm out of his hold or come close to hurting herself, since he's not using his agent-training to pin her to not being able to move. She's in more danger of twisting or pulling something than he likes to admit, and he's glad when he finally gets her in the door and he can put her down. He could probably figure out which bedroom is hers easily enough, but it seems like an invasion of privacy that she wouldn't appreciate. "Go ahead and get in bed. Do you want me to get you some water, or something else?"
no subject
But that hasn't quite sunk in yet. She's a little too off balance still, so when Clint makes the offer of water, she sighs and then nods. "Water would be great," she says and though she seems content, for now, to let him get it, she doesn't get into bed just yet. She's... waiting. And also marginally confused enough that figuring out which bedroom to get into just doesn't seem right. But she'll head towards one of them once she's got a glass of water in hand.
Or when she forgets that she's even got company.
no subject
"Bev? Hey, come on, you're wandering, snap out of it." Clint'll go for that hand that's not holding the glass, with secondary target being the shoulder so he can pull her around to face him. She's still swaying a lot more than he'd like, and he also wants to make sure that she doesn't whack herself into anything and make herself worse.
no subject
Unfortunately, it's not hers, not that she's aware or that it's easy to tell the difference. They hardly have any decor at all right now, so for all anyone can tell, including her addled mind, this is her room, not Jean-Luc's. He's out at the moment, though she has no idea where, and at least it'll make for an interesting tale when he does turn back up again.
"Bed," she says simply, finally seeming to take Clint's earlier request in hand as she climbs up on it. "Thank you for the water." And for finding her and dealing with her and a lot of other things she'll tell him eventually.
no subject
But it's a bedroom and a bed, and this house isn't one of the smallest in the village, so it probably doesn't matter if it's the one that Bev has claimed as hers in specific. All that matters is getting her in bed and getting her to sleep. He relieves her of the cup as she climbs on the bed, setting it on the little table that serves as a nightstand, and reaches for her boots. She'll be a lot more comfortable if she's not sleeping with those on; he likes those kinds of boots and even he agrees with that statement. "Try and get some sleep. Do you want more water?"
She might pick up - later - that he's far too used to dealing with people who are ill (or wounded).
no subject
"No, thank you," she says in response, curling up on her side. "I think I'll just sleep for the rest of the year."
It's a joke, mostly, but at this point no one really knows if she will or not. This sickness might be like the others or it might be completely different. She just has to hope that it won't last long. Still, for now, Clint gets his wish. Her eyes start to close, though she'll fight the urge to sleep until she's stopped inconveniencing him. Whenever that ends up being.