2019-10-04 - Cyclical

Easton had meant to clear out of the apartment earlier, he had written Bennie a note and then decided on another drink. And then not so much decided on finishing the bottle so much as ending up doing so on autopilot. The dream about Tom and the werewolves came on fast and hard and left him waking up in a pool of his own blood. He's currently in the master bathroom, blood soaked towels and what little clothes he was wearing on the floor. He's dressed only in his boxer-briefs, trying to get a look at the deep rake marks across his back. There is a bandage applied with some care on his one shoulder. There is also a bottle of whiskey on the edge of the sink because he stitches better after a drink or two (but not ten, as Alexander knows well).

The door is unlocked with an irritated wave of his hand, thankfully he can manage at least that much.

Alexander arrives about as quickly as a man on foot who is trying to minimize human interaction can arrive. And he comes bearing gifts. Namely, a bag from a local sandwich shop on the way. When the door opens, he enters, carefully. He's lost about ten pounds over the course of the illness, and his t-shirt almost literally billows around him. But other than that, he looks uninjured and unbloodstained, making him definitely the more put together of the duo. "Easton?" He puts the bag down on the nearest available surface and takes a careful look around before making his way towards the bedroom. He stops at the doorway. "Jesus." It's nearly a whisper. "I thought August got torn up, but you..." he stops short of saying 'need a goddamned hospital', but it's sort of there on his face.

"I'm fine."

It's like he can't help himself from saying it. Or he's trying to assert control over the situation by casting a spell with his words to make it so. Alexander can likely already see the scratches across his back in the mirror, but Easton turns to face the mirror, and put his hands on the sink so that he can see them better. "How's Bennie?" It's easier to ask the question without looking at Alexander. He really doesn't want to see any pained looks, and certainly would rather hide his own pale, drawn face which lacks its usual tightly controlled visage. There are bloody footprints throughout the bathroom and master bedroom. The shower also has a good amount of red stains though obviously watered down. "Wait, what happened to August? He okay?" He turns back now, that's a safe topic to discuss face to face.

Alexander absolutely fails to hide his worried expression. So much for being bro-code about this. He comes into the bedroom and inspects the gashes when Easton turns his back, hissing out in sympathy. "Bennie...is as fine as you are, Easton." His voice suggests that's not very, but hey. It means she's alive? "And August has had a couple of nasty fever dreams, or Dreams," the emphasis is clear, "so he's a bit cut up and exhausted as well. But I think his fever broke today. What about you? You said yours was getting better?" He's trying to be brisk about things, but it's not really working - the strain is in his voice as he looks around for the kit and, when he finds it, starts disinfecting things. Including Easton's back. "You've lost a lot of blood."

Easton gives a dismissive half-wave towards the state of his place, as if trying to dismiss how bad it looks. That Bennie is fine is what Easton would love to take away from that statement, but he understands the actual implication. He just nods though, not really having the ability to deal with it right now. And he's worried that if he does it's going to just make him angry and well, you wouldn't like him when he's angry (now at least). The fact that August is okay and on the mend is a welcome distraction, "Good. I think I'm not as sick? I can't really tell." He looks around at the bathroom and nods at his assessment about the loss of blood. "Yea, I'm not trying to be a tough guy here. I just can't risk a hospital. I want to punch doctors in the mouth on a good day."

"No, I get it," Alexander says, on a sigh. "I vetoed the hospital myself for similar reasons." He opens his mouth, maybe to suggest a painkiller before he gets really started - then glances at the empty bottle, and closes it again. "We'll take your temperature and shit later. Luckily, once the fever breaks, things seem to improve at a decent pace." He cleans the wounds on Easton's back carefully, trying not to reopen anything that's stopped bleeding, then preps the needle and starts to stitch. He doesn't give a lot of warning about this. Or any warning. "Do you still have your abilities? Mine were fucked for a while, but they seem to be coming back."

"Yeah" Because of course he actually needs to go to the hospital during the time when it would be an extra bad idea. Easton leans against the sink more, not that he needs to get any lower for Alexander. His hands grip the sides of the sink tighter and he grits his teeth. And while yes there is a bottle of whiskey, that didn't also preclude him from taking a percocet or two. He lets out only the slightest hiss of a breath when the stitching begins. "Thankfully they're on the fritz. Because that would be bad." He didn't think too much about the fact that he's not able to do everything, he just figured that happened when you get that sick? "Are you worried? About having powers right now?"

Alexander's hands are at least steady on the needle, and he doesn't hesitate or draw it out. It's a steady poke-pull-poke, thorough but not wasting time. "It seems to be a trait of this particular illness. Isabella and I were talking, and it seems that it might be from, you know, Over There. The Veil? Because it doesn't heal with a healer's powers, and of course, freaky dreams trying to murder us all." A pause. "You want to talk about the dream?"

And then that question. He huffs out a breath. "Yeah. I've been trying not to...interact, much. With people. Even over the phone. Because being halfway across town can't actually stop me, normally. There've been a couple of times when I found myself reaching out to do something, but my abilities weren't working. I was grateful, after." A grimace. "But August's cabin is far enough out that my effective range is reduced. It's been okay. There are goats, and ducks, and angry geese. It's nice. Soothing."

The steadiness of the stitching helps Easton get acclimated to the pain of it. His breath remains even if slightly labored. "That makes " breath "sense." He grits his teeth and decides that maybe he doesn't need to talk right now.

"Fucking Dreams. I got jumped by a werewolf or two.. while someone watched. And just let it happen." There's no bitterness there, just a calm explanation of how screwed up it was.

"I don't know how much I can or can't do right now. And frankly I'm not excited to find out. Izzy-.." grumble-sigh "Isabella said something about my range that got me thinking. I'm .. I don't want to know. Not right now." He closes his eyes and quietly admits, "...not when I might still hurt her." Because a ten mile range isn't super helpful when you are trying to put distance between two people, at least he can't see her from that far away.

"Christ," Alexander mutters under his breath. "I'm sorry, Easton." Then a grunt. "And yes, I know it's not my fault, shouldn't apologize, so on and so forth. Just accept it as sympathy." Then there's silence but for the clip of scissors as he finishes up one gash, and moves to the next after securing the stitches. "And that's a good idea. I think. It should be just a few more days for us to have Gohl in the ground for good, and hopefully out of our heads. Until then, we just gotta try and lay low. Is there anyone who isn't affected by this who you could trust to stay with you? Stop you if they needed to?"

"It's fine. I appreciate" He doesn't bristle at the 'sorry' because it's really just what you say there, not some deep weepy emotional show that would only confuse him. He grunts at the snip, "Thanks.. I don't think I'm up to sewing myself up with my powers right now." Yes he thought about it, no it isn't something that is likely to work even without veil flu interference. He nods, but stops himself from moving, least he throw off the stitches. "Yea. I've already asked Baylee if I can crash out at her place. She and Aidan should be able to keep me in check. I'm just gonna blaze up and checkout for a few days." It's a plan. He doesn't love that the only move he has is to take himself off the board, but he's also not taking any more chances after the near miss with Bennie.

"Easton, do not try to sew yourself up with your abilities," Alexander actually stops sewing for a moment to stare at the other man in the mirror. "That is a terrible idea." Needle-stab as he goes back to sewing. "But if you do it, at least have someone on hand to retrieve the needle from wherever you manage to embed it. Preferably without snickering at you." And then Alexander snickers under his breath at the idea, disqualifying himself from that future position. He sobers quickly, though. "That's a good idea. Maybe not the blazing up, although I suppose it can't hurt, but...it's only for a few days, and you could probably use the rest, anyway. Where are they, anyway? Location-wise." Not that he's keeping track of his potentially homicidal friends or anything.