late april catch all, focus on smoke monster reactions

[unmakeme]

WHO: Natasha Romanoff, Neil Mackay, Clint Barton, Jyn Erso, open for others
WHAT: getting sick on chocolates, reacting to the chaos of the obscurial, anything else
WHEN: 22nd for being sick, 24th for the obscurial stuff
WHERE: house 43, town center, the forest

WARNINGS: none yet
NOTES: if you want custom starter, hit me up on discord or plurk

obscurial

Natasha isn't sleeping when the noise kicks up. She's trying, and failing. Once she hears screaming and shouting, all hope is lost, and she's on her feet (which she shoves into boots on her way out the door, grabbing her bag as she goes) and running toward the commotion in a matter of minutes. She still misses the start of it, and by the time she makes it to the heart of town, people are already injured and it's chaos. Which, damn, whatever it is moves fast, and Natasha tries to shake off the mild fatigue and lethargy to be able to think just as quickly. Right, she needs to connect with people to figure out what's going on. Clint will have heard the noise, and he's still pretty spry for an old man, as she's so fond of telling him. If he's not here already, he will be soon. She keeps an eye out.

There are people, injured but not dead. The dead don't make noise. She'll check on anyone she passes, but that's not her focus. She's damn good at field first aid, but that's with proper supplies, and no one seems to need stitching up. Doesn't mean they should just be left in the road, of course.

Once she finds Clint and the others, she'll see if anyone has information she's missing. The thing didn't pass bay her house, but it must have gone by someone in order to get to the center of town.

After that, the name of the game is tracking, and the trick is to not waste any time. Especially with something that moves this quickly and causes this much damage. Time wasted is time lost, and there's enough of a crowd now that she can raise her voice and be heard by quite a few people. "Right. We need to know what that was, but we also need to know where it went. I'm going after it. Help would be welcome, but no one is obligated. It's clearly dangerous, so it's your call."

Comments

[unmakeme]

Oh fuck.

She hadn't forgotten about Neil, exactly. She remembered tasking him with helping her to cart things home, sharing her plans for the bulk of the food, asking him for any fireplace ashes he could get together for her. She just hadn't expected him to turn up first thing in the morning, if he'd turned up today at all. Was it still first thing in the morning? She realized that she'd been staring off into space for a while, trying to feel every system in her body and the ways it might be betraying her. Measles seemed likely. The rash all over her arms and torso, the fever, the lightheadedness. Coming later on the heels of those, the nausea, the dry mouth, the pain in her joints.

If it were Sam or Wanda or Clint, she'd yell at them to go away, come back later. She'd claim she was busy, and hopefully they'd go. Well, Clint probably wouldn't, but he'd take care of her, and while part of her would hate it, part of her would drink it up. She couldn't just shout at Neil to get lost, though, she didn't know him that well. So she dragged herself to her feet, and then to the door, taking a moment to pull up a facade of composure before swinging it open, a big fake smile pasted on her face. "You're up early," she said, waving him in. "There by the fireplace is fine, thanks."

[withoutahammer]

"Force of habit. Army and all that-" Neil frowned as he got a better look at Natasha. Either they'd had a lot more to drink than he remembered or there was something wrong- she looked unwell, feverish even. "Christ, you look like you should have slept in a lot more. I didn't wake you, did I?"

He stepped inside to set the bucket down by the fireplace, looking over his shoulder at her. Usually he might try to get a look at the inside of the house, but he was more concerned about the occupant. "I didn't think we drank that much. Anything I can get for you?"

[unmakeme]

How could he-- There was absolutely no way she looked bad enough to-- Though, she did feel like she was about to crumple. Hungover, though, that really wasn't a bad excuse. She tugged at the neck of her scrubs, making sure the rash she could feel creeping up the side of her neck was covered. A quick flip of her hair to that side and she figured she was good.

Now she just needed to get rid of him. Quickly.

"I think I might have overindulged a little, yeah. Probably a combination of the alcohol along with all that rich food. You know, mixing liquors and sugar and fat and-- and--" She swallowed heavily, far too much saliva in her mouth all of the sudden, and oh shit she wasn't going to get rid of him before-- Nope. Nope nope nope. Getting rid of Neil was not happening, Natasha was just grateful she made it to an empty bucket before her stomach completely betrayed her.

Fucking measles.

[withoutahammer]

"Aaaaand there we go." He followed her, hovering for just a moment before he decided to help. "Sorry, but-" Her hair was going to get disgusting. He reached over to pull it back and away from her face, averting his own gaze until she was done.

When it seemed like she was done, he stepped back, pulling a chair closer for her. "I'm going to get you a glass of water. You sit down before you topple over, yeah?"

[unmakeme]

Natasha couldn't see them, the tracks of clear skin through the rash on her neck where Neil's fingertips had swiped her hair away to hold it back for her. She couldn't feel the difference yet. She just knew that she hated having a weakness, showing it to someone she didn't know she could trust. Though, in Neil's defense, she would have hated showing it to someone she did trust almost as much. Still, unable to handle your liquor was a hell of a lot better than possibly dying from god knew what. "I'm hungover." She said it with conviction she didn't feel, in the hope that he'd take his first conclusion and not look any deeper.

Faking her way through anything was going to take a reserve of energy she was pretty sure she just didn't have. Not to mention she hated throwing up. Not that anyone loved it, but for most people it was just a matter of being sick. For Natasha, there was more there, a feeling of guilt, of needing care, of wasting food of all things. Holdovers from a childhood that she liked to pretend didn't exist.

[withoutahammer]

Neil only looked like a complete meathead. Once you got past the muscles and sarcasm there were... more muscles, and more sarcasm, but under that was a mind that was a lot sharper than most people thought. "Your hangovers usually come with a rash like this? Mine bloody well don't."

And that rash was worrying. There weren't kids around here, but if they got an epidemic of the measles or something like it- that wasn't anything to toy with. In a closed population, those could wreak havoc. Christ. "You have a fever? Let me check your forehead."

He lifted a hand to do so, but waited for her to give the okay.

[unmakeme]

Natasha sighed, was about to protest, and then gave up and nodded her head. She felt so off. Maybe she did have a fever. Wouldn't that just be fucking perfect? Die of the fucking measles, after everything she'd survived, everything she'd fought her way through for the right to her own life. Measles. That would be her end.