(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

[OOM: The life of a dog cook.]

Autor enters Milliways today from a world saturated in sunshine, looking decidedly green. Everything hurts, or feels like it's turning to mush, or both.

Dragging a blanket behind him, Autor wends his way through the booths and stools, heading to the fire. Trembling with fever, he collapses into a chair there, tucking his legs under him and tugging the blanket up to his chin.

A rat provides him with a bucket and a glass of water, both of which Autor takes, and promptly doesn't know what to do with. He drinks some of the water, grimaces as the cool liquid slides down his throat, and sets the glass aside on a side table.

Then he curls around the bucket, hoping the vaccines' side effects wear off soon.

Comments

[is_the_motion]

"You okay honey? You don't look so good." Bonnie peers down at him.

[herr_bookman]

Autor's eyeballs hurt. His neck hurts. Even his cheeks hurt. So it's with great effort that he raises his head, looks at Bonnie, and offers her a small smile.

"I'm not contagious," the boy says, gagging on the words. "Vaccines did this to me. They'll wear off in a few days. I hope."

[is_the_motion]

"What kind of vaccines?" Bonnie asks. "Like smallpox?"

[herr_bookman]

"Vaccines against werewolves, zombies, and filoviruses," Autor says, resting his head against the chair back. "Really nasty stuff, like Marburg."

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie puts her hand to his forehead.

"Yer burnin' up. Want me to find Guppy?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor shakes his head, but the motion makes him gag again. "No, I should be fine soon. It's just the vaccines. Thanks, Bonnie."

[is_the_motion]

Bonnie goes to the bar and gets him some ginger tea.

"You poor thing."

[herr_bookman]

Autor brings his hands out from under his blanket to gratefully accept the tea. He sips it gingerly, inhaling the fragrant steam. "This is delectable. Thank you. How are you doing?"

[is_the_motion]

"Busy as always." Bonnie smiles slightly. "All the kids been keepin' me busy, and Billie has learned 'no'."

[thewidewideworld]

"Autor?" Sinric asks softly. "Can I help you?"

[herr_bookman]

"Sinric," Autor says, blinking up at him. The boy gags, and shakes his head. "It's just the side effects of some vaccines. I should be fine within a couple of days. I'm not contagious."

[thewidewideworld]

"But you are in pain." Sinric points out softly. "Can I help?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor coughs into his bucket. "What can you do?"

[thewidewideworld]

"I can lift the burden of pain for a while. Give you peace to rest." he offers, holding out a slender hand.

[herr_bookman]

Autor considers this, and then nods, taking Sinric's hand into his own. The boy is flushed with fever, and his hand is hot and clammy. "Thank you."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric sits, long fingers wrapped softly around Autor's. He starts singing softly. A warm song about the comfort of being wrapped in fine furs, the familiarity of home and hearth. Of tranquil and safety.

His skin pulses with a warm gold radiance, his irises alight with it.

[herr_bookman]

Autor breathes, his heart rate slowing as his pain leeches away. He closes his eyes against Sinric's brilliance, feeling overwhelmed.

[justmark]

Mark has found himself a rare little treat, and since building a fire on a boat or a dock is probably a bad idea, he's decided to come to the bar and camp at the fireplace instead. Armed with a big, two-pronged barbecue fork, and a highly questionable bag of marshmallows, Mark is prepared to take one for the team and be the food-taster today.

He rather single-mindedly comes over to get settled, sitting down on the floor and tearing into the bag of marshmallows. He gives it a sniff. Nothing smells rancid, but that's never really definitive proof. But perhaps a liberal application of fire will kill anything lurking inside.

It's not until he skewers one of the marshmallows and thrusts it toward the flames that he noticed Autor in a nearby chair.

"Are you okay?" he asks, wondering if he should be more concerned about catching something off Autor than off of questionable marshmallows.

[herr_bookman]

"I'm fine," Autor says, hawking a lougie into his bucket. "It's just the side effect of some vaccines. I'm not contagious."

[justmark]

Ew. Mark makes a face.

"Looks like you would have been better off just getting the flu," he says, pulling out a flaming and crispy marshmallow. Yep, that looks like it's killed anything inside, so he blows out the fire and gives the stale lump of sugar a few moments to cool.

[herr_bookman]

"Why did you sniff that bag of marshmallows?" Autor says, furrowing his brow at the strange man with a machete on his belt. The boy's cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are fever bright. He trembles under his blanket, setting his jaw.

[justmark]

Mark pulls the charred, gooey mess off the fork and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. It doesn't taste bad either. That's a good sign.

"Because they're old," he says. "I found them inside a boat."

Along with some other items he chose to pass over, because they were definitely rancid.

He sticks another one on his fork and holds this one above the flames to toast it, instead of incinerate it.

[herr_bookman]

"A boat?" Autor says, his brow still decidedly furrowed. He shakes his head, and regrets the motion almost as soon as he does it. "Why were you searching a boat for food?"

[justmark]

Mark shrugs, slowly turning the marshmallow over the flames. "Sometimes they have snacks in the hold."

Mostly, they seem to have rotten fish.

[herr_bookman]

Autor assesses this person once more, trying to pick up on clues that he'd missed. Clearly homeless, destitute, malnourished, and desperate enough to search a boat for food. "What happened in your world?"