Harbinger of death from the world of witchcraft

[wavesoakedlegs]

Who: The crew of the Koumyou.
Where: Isla Empieza; maybe out on the ocean later?
When: From the 11th until the 17th.
What: The cursed, the uncursed and the influence of That Voice.
Warnings: Violence and general unpleasantness.
Style: Any!
Status: Mostly closed to the Koumyou; ask if you think you could get involved?


1. Strangeness begins
2. A Special Meal

Comments

Closed to Mitsuhide;

[behisstrength]

[It is perhaps an hour after eating Aiichiro's food that Motochika starts to feel mildly nauseated. He does not immediately worry, though it puzzles him somewhat; he merely assumes that there must have been a local ingredient in the meal that doesn't sit well with him. Poisoning does not cross his mind.

Nor does it stop him from spending time with Mitsuhide in their quarters.

Unfortunately there comes a point at which ignoring the intensifying feeling is impossible: he is in the middle of speaking to his lover when his stomach rebels. He only just suppresses retching.

The last thing that he wants to do is to be sick over Mitsuhide.

Motochika leaps to his feet, his shamisen and bachi thrown to the floor in a clutter. He can taste it at the back of his throat and feels the tumult in his stomach refusing to settle; there isn't a moment spare for him to explain. As swiftly as he can he sprints up onto the Koumyou's deck, crossing it in a rush, intent upon reaching edge of the ship. It's a close call, but he manages to hunch over the rail in time, and empties the contents of his stomach into the ocean violently.]

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Mitsuhide is startled at first; their conversation had been affectionate, the atmosphere peaceful, and he'd seen no reason to worry about his lover before now. It doesn't take more than a few moments for him to regain his senses, stand up and chase after Motochika. Worry winds its way into his chest, and when he steps out onto deck, that worry intensifies.]

[The sound Motochika is making is unmistakeable... something in his stomach has given rise to sickness.]

[Racing over, Mitsuhide only slows to a stop as he reaches his lover, and when he does he reaches out to draw Motochika's hair away from his face. Where did this come from? Was there something in the food that didn't agree with Motochika? It doesn't occur to him that there is anything really serious going on yet. Why would it?]

Lord Motochika...

[Mitsuhide's voice is soft and affectionate, but there is obvious worry there. He says nothing else yet, waiting for Motochika to stabilise first.]

[behisstrength]

[Motochika takes a shuddering breath and spits to try and rid his mouth of the aftertaste. He doesn't feel any better for having thrown up; if anything, he feels worse.

Still, Mitsuhide's hands holding back his hair fills him with a wave of tenderness.

He straightens up after a moment, though he does not move from the rail, sign enough on its own that he thinks he will be sick again.]

Forgive me, Mitsuhide. [He says, sliding his eyes shut.] It seems that Aiichiro's cooking does not sit well with me.

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Mitsuhide's worry does not diminish in the slightest; he lets Motochika's hair go for a moment, but only so he can pull the hair tie out of his own hair. That done, he gathers Motochika's hair up again as best he can and ties it up away from his lover's face.]

That's an understatement.

[His hands now settle on Motochika's back instead; Mitsuhide rubs one of those hands around soothingly as he looks the Hero of Tosa over. Perhaps he is seeing things out of worry, but he could swear Motochika looks a little paler than usual...]

You are still nauseous?

[It's more of a statement than a question, really.]

[behisstrength]

[Motochika nonetheless answers.]

Yes.

[The rub of Mitsuhide's hand on his back is comforting, even if it cannot counter this sudden onset of illness. Almost as if to make a point, Motochika leans forward and throws up again. Once done, he presses his forehead against the wood of the rail. His head is starting to pound.]

[wavesoakedlegs]

[That makes Mitsuhide's concern grow much deeper very quickly. He can feel something like fear beginning to creep its way into his chest; this has come on very quickly and too violently for it to be merely down to the type of food they ate.]

Food simply not agreeing with you should not cause this dramatic an effect.

[Mitsuhide stops rubbing Motochika's back and instead wraps his arm around the other man in order to give him proper support. He isn't quite sure what to do, but he has to do something.]

Do you wish to remain here, or should we take you inside? I can find a bucket if you fear you will vomit again...

[behisstrength]

[Motochika is beginning to think that Mitsuhide is right -- it's not just his stomach, but his gut that is churning worryingly. He pushes off of the railing, momentarily closing his eyes, before he leans a little into Mitsuhide's support.]

Let us go inside. [He says calmly, but soberly. Shipwide morale is a concern.] I will need that bucket.

[wavesoakedlegs]

[Motochika's skin feels a little cool, Mitsuhide notes, as he holds onto his lover firmly and guides him inside. He says nothing that is not a reassurance until they reach the Captain's room; not letting go of his lover until they are at the side of their shared bed, Mitsuhide raises one hand to touch Motochika's forehead before sighing softly.]

[His concern is etched deeply into his features.]

My Lord... [Mitsuhide murmurs.] Please, sit.

[With that he turns and almost runs out of the room, eager to find that bucket and return as soon as possible. It doesn't take too long; a mere few minutes later Mitsuhide is back. He closes the door behind him and walks over, placing the bucket down before taking a seat on the bed and folding his hands in his lap.]

[behisstrength]

[Motochika sits on the bed and closes his eyes as he breathes steadily, waiting in vain for the rising feeling of sickness to settle. At the sound of Mitsuhide's return he opens his eyes, and once Mitsuhide takes a seat, he reaches out to take one of his lovers folded hands into his own.]

Mitsuhide...

[He murmurs, before he lies back onto the bed. He sighs heavily and lifts his free hand to press his face. A tingling sensation is starting to spread there, and his mouth is beginning to burn.]