2019-10-07 - The Importance of Being Earnest

With Erin's help, and after a flu shot from Doctor Hailey Stevenson was administered, Isabella in well on the mend from her illness and the injuries sustained by the consequences of carrying this particularly virulent strain of super flu. While her body continues to ache, it is nothing that some extra-strength aspirin can't hold at bay, and she's able to at least stand, walk and dress herself. She has managed to borrow another set of scrubs from the hospital's exasperated staff, if not just because they had to cut her clothes off of her when she had been brought in by the 911 dispatchers that Alexander had called for her in a fit of frustrated worry.

To her infinite credit, she looks relatively fine when she steps into the room that Isolde has been kept in, carrying a bouquet of flowers in a vase that she had procured from the gift shop in the lobby - an arrangement of autumn blooms that heralds the onset of the first week of October. The new season is officially in full swing.

There's a smile to the patient, when she sets her token on the bedside table. "Alexander asked me to check on you," she tells her, assuming that Isolde knows that her roommate can't visit her himself, due to his unique condition and his unwillingness to even give himself a chance to hurt anyone he truly cares about. "How are you feeling, Isolde?"

Isolde had been miserable for this past week or so. However long it had been. She honestly couldn't say. She just felt like she was ready to die already please. Feeling like she was going batshit in sane. Still having dreams and Dreams about the eyes. The creature. The Obuliette. She had to get better, so she could get back. She was lost in thought, staring out towards the window. Looking flushed and tired, but she was getting better. Even though she didn't feel like she was. It took her a moment to register that someone was in the room. The voice. Turning her head slowly she locked on to Isabella and mustered up a smile.

"Isabella." Sliding a hand down to press the hospital bed into a more upright position. "The flowers are pretty." Her ribs were still on the mend - having cracked two of them during her Dream fall. Likely the doctors were still all kinds of confused about it. But that wasn't Isolde's issue. "How is he doing?" Alexander. She hadn't talked to him since she'd been in here. Hadn't done much of anything honestly -except lay here and feel miserable.

"Me?" Her brow furrowed a touch. As if trying to fully, properly, evaluate how she was feeling. "Like shit." Was finally the blunt answer given, but another little smile followed it. "I am ready to be out of here. Soon. Hopefully. How are you?"

Unlike a certain someone they know, Isabella does not reach for Isolde's chart to take an accounting of whatever else she's suffering - but those eyes miss nothing and the visible encumbrance that Isolde exhibits in the act of simply sitting up is enough to tell her that other things have probably happened. "Summer's my favorite season in Gray Harbor, but it's Fall everywhere else in the world," she offers, nodding to the flowers and taking a seat by the other woman's bed. "The colors are nice. I tried to find some lavender, but they're out of season now, unfortunately."

When asked about Alexander, the younger woman shakes her head. "Coping. But his fever's broken, so he's recovering physically. He's not comfortable going out in public too much at the moment, though. Too dangerous, though he hasn't really expressed the extent of what he's feeling in that regard to me. I can guess, and his frustration is evident enough. There's only so much a person can do when cooped up in a small cabin." There's a sigh, her hand coming up to scrub the side of her face. "The fever breaks, eventually. Ten to eleven days after exposure, or so I learned. But the illness isn't normal. Now that everyone else I know seems to have contracted it, it's apparent that Alexander's right in that this super flu came from the other side. It affects abilities, also. You can't use them, or not fully use them, when you're in a Dream. I'm glad to see that you're..." Alive. "...alright, though, all things considering. It can't have been easy. I didn't even know you were in here until a day or so ago."

As for how she is, she wiggles her fingers. "Honestly, it could be worse," she replies. "The same thing that's got Alexander has got me, but my will's holding out. And then getting sick, not being able to read for a bit and pulled into nightmares on top of it. I am here to see how you are feeling though, is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do to provide you with additional relief?"

"That is sad. But they will be back before you know it." Isolde said of the lavenders, briefly looking towards the window again. Perhaps picturing the fields, now harvested and withered, waiting for next year so they can arise once more. She'll need to find a peaceful place for her winter time troubles. Because winter, Isolde was certain, was going to make the gray of Gray Harbor so much worse. Gather up your sunny memories and happy pictures to shield against the clouds of depression. Isolde drug those blue eyes back towards Isabella. "I am happy you are here, all the same." She listens quietly as Isabella talks of Alexander. "So he still wants to kill people?" A bit of a frown. "Who is with the animals?" She felt bad that they had slipped her jumbled brain and hoped they were okay.

Isolde nodded a bit again. "Yes. I know. About the Dream effects. I..." keep having them. "had one and I couldn't do anything at all." She drew in a soft breath. "It feels like I've been sick forever. But, they say I'm getting better. I don't really believe them." A touch of a smile back on her features. "I only told Alexander and Cameron and Itzhak. And I almost didn't do that. But I knew that people would worry." She nodded over to the other chair in the room where a pair of pajamas was folded up. "His friend. Itzhak's. She brought those to me and a couple other things. I guess he's sick too, wanted to check on me." She looked back towards Isabella.

"I am glad you're not wanting to murder people, but not reading would be scary too." A fleeting frown. "No, honestly. I don't think there is. I just. I need to get out of here. I need..." Isolde trailed off again and sighed. "There's something...someone? A thing...a creature. I need to help it. I think. It needs help. I can't help from in here. Being sick."

"I am, too. It hasn't been all that long since I visited you last, but it feels like forever." Isabella is careful to put the pajamas to the side before taking a seat. "But yes." She falls quiet, before adding, tentatively, "And he hasn't been the only one. I felt it, too, when I was with August in a Dream." I wanted to see his heart.

Words she doesn't say, unwilling to drive Isolde further into whatever malaise that has gripped her since being admitted to this room. "I think Bennie Oakes, Alexander's paramedic friend, is looking after Luigi and Blue Bell," she says in reassurance - and that was a huge can of worms also, Easton's texts weighing heavily on her phone. "It's just as much for her as it is for the both of you, I think. She had a bad fight with her boyfriend."

The archaeologist lapses into silence, expression tightening when Isolde mentions her Dream, twigging, perhaps, on those unsaid words - but even one is enough and there's frustration there, also, because she's here, and alone. "You'll get better," she murmurs. "This will go away, I promise, and the Talent repairs itself after the fever breaks." Her list of names, however, has one new addition and her brows lift upwards. "Cameron?" The name isn't familiar, and she can't help but ask. "Which friend of Itzhak's?" All conversation, but there is genuine interest there, as always willing to give it, perpetually hungry for the details of someone's life, to fill something within herself that constantly aches for a connection - a thing she would never admit to, no matter how long she has been living with the savage truth of it.

Confusion ripples over her mien, though, at the last words. "What do you mean?" she wonders. "A creature from a Dream? Why does it need your help?"

"Fights are no good. I hope they can fix it." Isolde offers, glad to hear that the pets are being looked after at least. "Now, every one just needs to stop feeling like they will murder people." Because, according to Alexander last time they spoke, pretty much everyone in her small social circle was affected by this.

Isolde brightens a little. "Cameron is great. She's a friend...a little more than a friend? Maybe." There's a heat to Isolde's cheeks that has nothing to do with the fever and the flu. "I haven't been able to talk to Itzhak about her yet because, well, all this happened." She looks towards the flowers a bit. "Her name is Rebecca. His friend. I was still very out of it, we didn't really talk or anything." Maybe for the best. It would be better to really meet her and talk when she wasn't on death's doorstop and also wasn't obsessed with this creature.

Isolde focused on Isabella again and drew in another shallow breath. "It's hard to...explain. Can I try to show you?" If her abilities wasn't to cooperate, hindered as they were. Once Isabella gave the okay, Isolde closed her eyes again and tried to focus. Slowly, Isabella would see them.

Isolde and Itzhak in some strange prison in the Veil. Isolde filled with some kind of super charged energy. Almost like some kind of superhero or something. Them breaking out with the help of a Satyr and a Lizard-looking thing. And then finally, Isolde shared with Isabella the creature she spoke of. Somehow in the prison. Somewhere, as they escaped. Her mind had reached out and found it. Impossibly large, curled in on itself. That huge pinkish gold eye slowly opening up. "Can you see?" Isolde whispered, almost to herself as she thought up the picture.

Then it was over. Opening her eyes again and taking a minute to focus before looking to Isabella once more. "It's so sad Isabella. It sounded so sad...it's...I think it's being used to power a city. That city, where that prison is. I need to help it."

"Soon." Again, Isabella's tone is reassuring. "We just need the casket finished, and once that's done, we'll put him in the ground where he belongs." It wouldn't be the first time Isolde has seen it, the endless and terrifying intensity of her, especially when she's angry. Knuckles whiten and push up from underneath her skin when she balls her hands into fists. Her pupils shrink in the throes of it.

Nothing happens, thankfully - it must be her will, because she frantically fights down the rising tide of her ire and manages to succeed. She takes a deep breath instead, and fixes her green-gold eyes determinedly on the other woman.

She focuses on the other things Alexander's best friend tells her, instead, taking in the blush when she speaks of this Cameron, furrowing her brows. It doesn't take her long to put the pieces together, and confusion gives way to realization. There's a faint quirk in her smile. "I didn't know it was like that, between you and Itzhak." A hint of teasing, dark arches waggling there. "The more the merrier in your case?" It's very modern, and she's definitely not judging; her adventurous nature more often than not inspires her to try new things, but any experiments or forays towards polyamory have been hampered by her general (ridiculous) pickiness and the sheer reluctance to complicate an already complicated life further. And that's not even counting her jealous nature.

She is a fan, though, of anything that makes people happy - especially people that she knows.

Asked for permission, there's visible hesitation on the archaeologist's features - but this is one that she allows. There's a nod, and Isolde would be able to sense it; Isabella's mental fortress is both formidable and complicated, when her influence slips around the barriers of her mind - the kind of walls that even a mentalist as powerful as Alexander can't breach on a whim. Odd, that she would have something like that, when the younger woman's use of her own talents is almost nonexistent, only employed in the direst of circumstances - though perhaps that is strange, too. She burns like a star on the cusp of fusion, as far as potential goes and yet she wastes it by doing nothing or next to nothing with it. But the heat of it, intense and white and liable to scorch bone to ash, is palpable when Isolde touches her mind on the surface. Just enough to form a bridge.

"I see it." She doesn't communicate mind-to-mind either; perhaps it's a personal preference, the images stowed in the vaults of her long memories when she looks at Isolde again. "The Veil carries a lot of strange things. Dark things. I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case." But what kind of creature would be able to power a city? Was it made of electricity? She can't tell, it was dark in the chamber, the only thing visible a pink-gold eye. "Are you bringing anyone else with you if you go back?"

Isolde watches Isabella closely, that intensity - the struggle to push it all down and not let Gohl get the better of her. She'd thought it before, but thought it again now. It was a very good thing, that Isolde had been kept in the dark on much of the Gohl issue.

"Something...like that." Is Isolde's answer to the 'more the merrier'. She and Itzhak didn't have a label really. Not a proper one. Something they should maybe iron out when they were better. Something she didn't want to dwell on right now. "You will meet her sometime, I'm sure of it. Cameron. You will like her." Isolde smiled.

It was nice to talk properly to someone. Nice to be distracted from her thoughts and aches and pains. She studies Isabella in the aftermath of the image sharing. Isabella would have gotten a glimpse of Isolde's own mind. A tangled, weaving web of yarn. Gnarled, confused. Twisting and turning as if trying to make things right within. It was a slow, slow process.

"It spoke to me. It asked me that question. Asked me if I could see." Isolde whispered. "I...don't know. I need someone...to get in and out. I don't know if I want to ask Itzhak." She admitted. Maybe a little shyly. "I don't want him to be worrying about me...or me worrying about him." Because so many things could go wrong. So terribly wrong. "But I don't know anyone else...who can open the doors."

"I'm happy to meet more people, and to generally know more about you, Isolde," Isabella says, anger fading away to a warmer expression. That is genuine, too.

With the bridge retracted, the archaeologist studies Isolde, too. She gestures with her hands. "Your mind reminds me of a cat's cradle," she observes quietly, but gently. "I heard from Alexander that you had a tendency to get lost, also - even while out of Gray Harbor." But she does not know the extent of that pain, either. Still, with the pathway opened, it's up to the woman on the bed to decide whether she wants to talk about that also. Otherwise, she won't pry.

She knows, however, that isn't normal, either. The state of Isolde's mind.

"I understand your hesitation," she says, after listening to the other woman's concerns. "But Itzhak's a very powerful mover. Once the two of you are better, it would be good to have him on your side - I know you don't want him to worry, but I'm certain he'd worry about you more if he wasn't there with you. Not that I'm encouraging you to go back - the Veil is a dangerous place." Her fingers tighten further into her lap. "But if you're determined to do this, I know better than to dissuade you. As long as you take someone with you. And if you can't...if you really don't want him to come with you, there's Easton, also. He can find doors, and open them. I used to be able to." There's a faint quirk of a smile. "These days I'm downright useless across, though. In that aspect, anyway." She's largely fallen back on the virtue of her wits instead of her abilities, atrophied as they are from lack of use.

"That's a good word for it. Cat's cradle." Isolde agreed and gave a little nod. "Yeah. It wasn't...usually it was by accident. Or spur of the moment. I rarely ended up where I needed or wanted. Only just away from where I was." Isolde offered but didn't seem able or willing to give up much more information about those trying times. Maybe when she was feeling better. Instead, focus on the present tasks at hand.

"You're right." Isolde agreed after a moment of thought. "He would worry. It's frustrating." She admitted. "How much he worries. How much they all worry. I can take care of myself." She drew in a breath, not wanting to get herself worked up. "But. It is dangerous. I shouldn't go alone. I will ask him. If he will do it and if he gives me trouble, I will ask Easton about it. But I will wait. Until the Gohl things are over." Because, you know, murderous rage wasn't very good when combined with Veil things. She looked a little interested. "You used to be able to? I didn't know that was a thing. Not being able to do stuff you couldn't anymore." Isolde thought on that for a moment.

"But. That is for later. For when I can walk and don't feel like I'm dying." Isolde mused, closing her eyes for a moment. "Tell Alexander I will be okay. Don't tell him about wanting to go find the creature. He won't like that. He'll be worried."

She can relate to that, in the end. "You can't stop that train once it's left the station," Isabella reminds her mildly. "The more you connect yourself with other people, this is going to happen. But it's good. That's a good thing, humans aren't meant to be alone."

That's sound, too, to wait when Gohl things are over, but... "And when you're feeling better. Even when the fever breaks, you need to give yourself time to recover - not just the physical weakness, but..." She taps the side of her temple. "No reason not to be as armed and dangerous as you can possibly be if you're going back there." There's hints of disapproval there; she is hardly a fan of people going back through the Doors willingly, but she knows a losing battle when she sees one, also. It must be the look of determination on the red-haired woman's face when she thinks of the creature she needs to save.

Her interest has her smiling faintly. "Something like that," she murmurs, somewhat evasively. "I've been gone away from here for too long, there are things I didn't remember that are just starting to come back. Old methods. Old knowledge." She turns her hand over her lap and inspects the lines of her palm. "But I hardly use and I don't practice."

Later. Conflict surfaces over her features when Isolde asks her not to tell Alexander about her hunt. "He'll worry anyway," is what she says instead. "So if that's the only reason you have not to tell him, it shouldn't be. He'll respect your decision if you decide to go through with Itzhak, or Easton, without him, because this is your quest. He's never been one to press into places where he's clearly not wanted, not for personal things anyway. He'll be sore about it, but he'll allow it reluctantly. Don't keep this from him."

Isolde makes a little noise. It's barely audible, but it's one akin to something a child might make when they know they're being told something that is smart. Even if it's not what they want to do. "...I should say. Let me tell him then. He should hear it from me." Isolde reluctantly gave in. Having people was tiring, but Isabella was right. It was good. Good to have a network of people to support you, because in the end - only relying on yourself wouldn't get you very far. Just closer to ending up face down in a ditch somewhere most likely. Isolde lifted a hand to press a couple fingers against her temple.

"Yes, yes. When I'm feeling better too. You're right. Full strength. It's important." She let her hand fall back down and opened her eyes once more to focus on Isabella. "Maybe one day soon we will swap some stories? Hopefully....there will be peace. When all this is over. For a little bit. Some period of reprieve before we have to take up arms again against...whatever it brings next."

"I wouldn't dream of it. This is a conversation the two of you ought to have. I'm just facilitating it," Isabella remarks with a quiet laugh.

Reaching out, her fingers clutch the end of Isolde's blanket with a light touch, drawing it over the other woman to tuck her in while she settles further into the bed. "One day, but you need to get better, first. And..." Shadows fall over her features, reminded of the conversation she has yet to have with Alexander. Swapping stories. "...so do I."

She eases her hand away, her smile returning - unfettered and downright ebullient in its quality, subjecting her to the full brunt of it. "Get some rest. I'll check in on you again soon, alright?"