Anders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
onetrackminds) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
high_seas2014-03-24 04:46 am
onetrackminds) wrote in high_seas2014-03-24 04:46 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Anders and the crew of the Oargy
Where: The Oargy
When: Earlier this month, a couple of days after the open log post.
What: Crisis alert! The healer is sick!
Warnings: None so far.
Style: Whichever people prefer.
Status: Closed
[There's really no good answer as to why Anders is on deck. He's looking pale, and he seems to be shivering despite the extra jacket he's put on, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. He's also not moving as quickly as he normally does, but he's looking just as - if not more - determined despite that. The rain, at least, has stopped for now, but that just means there's even more to do, a deck to be swabbed and ropes to checked for rot and damage. And he has a hard time leaving work undone.
Five minutes into the work he's slowed down even more. Ten minutes, and he's leaning against the rail, already needing a break. But he hates being sick, hates being coped up in bed, and so it's only a few minutes before he gets right back to it. He's used to a little overwork.
He's avoiding the rest of the crew, as well. Partially because he doesn't want to get them sick, and partially because he knows they'll tell him to go below deck and rest if they realise he's caught something. But it's just a cold (says his professional opinion, which is always reliable when it comes to everyone else and not so much when it's about himself), and it shouldn't kill him. And without him around, how much work will really get done, anyway?]
[ooc note: if anyone prefers a thread from when he's already in his hammock and feeling miserable, or idk finding him trying to make tea and spilling it all over himself, that is also more than okay /o/ ]
Where: The Oargy
When: Earlier this month, a couple of days after the open log post.
What: Crisis alert! The healer is sick!
Warnings: None so far.
Style: Whichever people prefer.
Status: Closed
[There's really no good answer as to why Anders is on deck. He's looking pale, and he seems to be shivering despite the extra jacket he's put on, and his eyes are glassy and unfocused. He's also not moving as quickly as he normally does, but he's looking just as - if not more - determined despite that. The rain, at least, has stopped for now, but that just means there's even more to do, a deck to be swabbed and ropes to checked for rot and damage. And he has a hard time leaving work undone.
Five minutes into the work he's slowed down even more. Ten minutes, and he's leaning against the rail, already needing a break. But he hates being sick, hates being coped up in bed, and so it's only a few minutes before he gets right back to it. He's used to a little overwork.
He's avoiding the rest of the crew, as well. Partially because he doesn't want to get them sick, and partially because he knows they'll tell him to go below deck and rest if they realise he's caught something. But it's just a cold (says his professional opinion, which is always reliable when it comes to everyone else and not so much when it's about himself), and it shouldn't kill him. And without him around, how much work will really get done, anyway?]
[ooc note: if anyone prefers a thread from when he's already in his hammock and feeling miserable, or idk finding him trying to make tea and spilling it all over himself, that is also more than okay /o/ ]
Later!
[She says it as she comes into the cabin where the healer has been confined to a hammock. She might not know healing magic... but she knows that a good bowl of her mother's soup can work wonders.
Granted, she's not as good at cooking it as her mother was. The taste isn't quite right, but. She thinks she's made it pretty close to what it's supposed to be. It tasted okay to her when she tested it.]
I brought you dinner.
Re: Later!
Hawke?
[He sounds a little surprised, but mostly just tired. He manages, though, to roll over onto his side, and without jolting the cat that's sleeping curled up next to him - using him as a furnace.]
It's dinnertime?
[when did that happen?]
no subject
[She smiles a little, bringing over the soup and setting it by the hammock. She has a tray with it and a glass of clean water, a spoon in the bowl.]
It's my mother's recipe.
She always made it whenever one of us got sick.
no subject
You made that for me?
[Again, he sounds surprised.]
Thank you.
no subject
[Half joke, half self-deprecation. She's really, really not a cook, but stew she can handle. Hopefully.]
You've been working yourself pretty hard. It's the least I can do.