#virusplot

[gabriel-enchanted-blog]

@micahtabor

There was something important about sleep and cold that Gabriel was not supposed to forget. His body was just done, though. Five, ten, twenty minutes wasn’t going to hurt anything, right? He just…he was so cold and tired. Truthfully, he had no idea where he was, which way he was supposed to be going, or how far he was from his brother. But he knew from enough experience that at some point if he just stopped and practiced patience, Micah would find him. And be so mad. Unless he was so scared he couldn’t even hide the scared under angry. That was the worst. This…this was feeling like it might one of those times because he couldn’t hear Micah.

Not that that stopped him from trying.

He concentrated on his surroundings, sending them off like polaroids or something, but having no idea if they’d all just be marked return to sender and given back. Before long his head started to dip, eyes drawing down and then he was out. And he didn’t know how long it was until something was rousing him. Soft protesting noises left his mouth first, and he tried to squirm away from the hands, before fumbling out a hand of his own to push at them. “Me? Stop it. Sleeping.” He didn’t stop though and grumpily, Gabriel wrestled his eyes opened to shoot Micah a very unimpressed look.

Opening his eyes though revealed they were outside, and there was bark, not a bed behind him, and all this was not really adding up. Did he fall outta the hammock again? It took a moment and then his body up and rebelled. He could feel the fever flush his cheeks, brighten his eyes, and bring the spins back. Miserably, he tipped forward, seeking Micah’s comfort primarily and body heat second. “Dunfeel good, Me-ka.” He mumbled. “Cold.” Granted, he was the idiot who’d run out without any kind of weather protective gear, but he so rarely actually needed it for more than blending in purposes. “Sleepy.”

Fuck. Nicknames and monosyllables. He might as well have just handed Micah a heart attack and call it a day. But he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone, play it off like he wasn’t an actual human popsicle with a bad cold. Flu. Thing. But there was something else. Something important...”Magick.” he got out. “S’not working.” Sniffling against the rise of emotion that brought up, he added a soft, “scared.” but would go to his grave denying he ever said it. Naturally. 

[gabriel-enchanted-blog]

@ludwigwclf

Gabe was close. He knew he was. The lake wasn’t that far and admittedly he was traveling much slower back than he had going but he had to be close. The greenery had gotten thicker and it reminded him of Sabine even if he didn’t feel Sabine in them anymore. Just like how empty his mind and soul felt when he tried to reach out for Micah and came up with silence but he could still sense he was close. Just in a weird shadowy kind of way instead of the interactive concrete knowing of before. This was hands down the worst thing that’d ever happened in a very long time. Concentrating as hard as he was on putting one foot in front of the other and making it back to Micah without incidents beyond his own clumsy footing, he almost didn’t hear the snap. His first thought was that it’d been his own foot, but deeper bred instinct snapped his gaze up to find a very real, very lethal threat, way too close.

Shit. Micah was going to haunt the ever-living-fuck out of his ghost if he died now. Ouija boards and summonings and daily prayers just to yell at him for being such a fucking idiot. Goddess, almost two decades of survival to be undone by a fucking werewolf and a cold. Still, maybe there was a possibility he’d not be seen, heard, or smelt. He was mostly saturated with salt water and malaise with a distinct lack of magick. Could be anyone right? Barely daring to breathe, he tried to creep past the man, but could almost feel the moment something in the air shifted and his presence was noted. Fuck. Gathering what little strength he had left, he turned, and ran for Sabine’s, unable to help his mind from desperately trying to connect with Micah’s, Sabine’s, anyone’s. 

[gabriel-enchanted-blog]

@anthony-marcello

Few and far between came experiences that revealed to Gabriel just how damn good he was at denial. At first, he wrote the odd feeling off as a side-effect from the magickal overexertion he’d done with Anthony, then it was just winter setting in and his body reacting poorly as per usual, but when he reached out to buffer the puppy’s full-tilt slide into the wall and couldn’t feel any connection to the energy normally buzzing under his skin…that was bad. That was really bad. Normally, Nature in all her various threads constantly enveloped him. Air, water, fire, earth, light, spirit — he could feel them. It was just a matter of pulling the right energy at the right times for the right effect, but it was like someone or something had essentially blindfolded him.

The puppy’d just bounced off the wall and continued chasing whatever it was after, disappearing towards Micah’s room sparking a guilty pull deep in his chest. Was this something to bring to Micah? He was already such a pressure on his brother, he hated to put anymore on him. And selfishly, he didn’t want to be confined to the house. Sickness healed. Sure, he might have had a couple of close calls over the years, but he was here. And this wasn’t — ok, admittedly his head was throbbing, and he felt weak, and just off but he wasn’t sick.

Even at his most feverish, he’d never lost connection like this.

Something damn close to fear bubbling in his stomach made up his mind for him and he left Micah a hastily scribbled note about the lake and be right back before taking off with more urgency than he’d felt since Sabine took them in. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. He didn’t even think as he left the house, used to relying on magick to make up for his own shortcomings, like oh, forgetting shoes and a jacket, maybe, but he was too close to the lake to turn back once the pain sank in past his stubborn determination.

Water was his strongest element. The lake had it in abundance, and a supposed history of healing properties, so Gabe didn’t hesitate. Just ran down the pier and threw himself in.

It was cold.

So much colder than he was used to and every part of him resented it, but there, in the farthest stretch of his abilities, he could feel it. He could feel the energy that promised magick, and ok. So at least he wasn’t turned into a human overnight. There was that at least. Now though, he was soaked, and freezing, and no attempt at reaching any kind of fire or warming energy was happening for him. Still, he lingered for as long as he could stand it, desperate for this to fix itself.

It didn’t.

He carried hope that if it truly came down to life or death, he’d be able to save himself, but beyond that — he was fucked. And he needed to get back to Micah, now. So naturally as he pulled himself out of the water and headed back towards the cabin, he spotted a figure among the trees. His first instinct was magick, which failed, the second was to run, but his muscles were a little too busy shaking in a desperate bid for warmth to listen much to him, so that left trying to creep by unnoticed. Naturally, his foot snapped every twig, clothes caught on bark and branches, and his balance was being thrown off between dripping water on leaves and the fever (he did not have, thank you). A small whale would have probably made less noise than he did, so he eventually gave up on being sneaky and just hoped he hadn’t misjudged the Enchanter.

“Anthony?” he called finally. “Anthony, something’s wrong.”

[gabriel-enchanted-blog]

@irisofwolves

It’d taken a lot of convincing Micah but it was important their main food source didn’t wither and die so the three of them divided the garden into smaller chunks and took turns weeding, watering, and pruning the plants there. Micah’d taken a bigger chunk and limited the amount of time Gabe spent working, which was frustrating because when he felt good -- he felt like anything was possible and he could do ALL the things. He just had a habit of forgetting that he’d crash just as fast and send himself a dozen steps back in his own recovery when he pushed too far too fast. 

It was just gardening though. And sure, the sun was hot, and bending over for long periods of time was uncomfortable, but it felt good to have his fingers in the earth, the smell in his nose, and be surrounded by lush green. If he really, really concentrated, he could feel the faintest buzz of magick around him and that, truly, was what ignited his sudden passion for gardening. Besides it seemed to take a little of the weight off Sabine’s shoulders and that was always a good thing.

Still, all of his senses were put on high alert now without his magick, constantly on guard, especially at night and especially outside. So when he heard the approach, he had a knife in hand, ready to throw before peeking over his shoulder to see who was coming around the brush. Oh. Shoulders sagging, he sat back, wiping his hair out of his face and cussing slightly because he’d maybe been out and about a little too long if the flush and dizziness were anything to go by. “Hey, Iris. How you holding up?”