it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

[dirth]

FORM: Crystal
SENDER: Solas
RECIPIENT: Everyone!
WHAT: Having spoken to the Rifter, Solas can now share his findings
WHEN: Early morning, just before the beginning of Phase Three
WHERE: Library!
NOTES: Full OOC info can be found here!

Good morning. I would like to inform those that recall our mysterious visitor that I have spoken to him in the Fade.

[ Because of course Solas would track the stranger down in the Fade; at least he was doing it for the benefit of the people who are currently suffering. ]

His name, as he gave it, is Vufagor and he informed me that the illness was something referred to as a 'blood plague'. The symptoms he described to me matched what we have noticed already, but there were some that have not happened yet. He reported that there would be fatigue and fever followed by excretion of blood through the skin. It will end in death.

[ His words are said solemnly, carefully; he's not reporting anything pleasant here. ]

Unfortunately, our visitor is an artist, not a healer, and could offer no cure. He said only that there is no treatment, and that he wished to return to his family as they were sick and he needed to make prayers and offerings to a God on their behalf. I do not believe that he is at fault for the sickness, nor do I think he is withholding information from us. He was upset and desperate to return home, and I fear he was suffering from the illness when he came through the Rift.

This is all the information I was able to retrieve. He is unaware of anything that would have made him forgettable to us, and was not using anything magical that I was able to note. I believe that he is a sick man that has left us with an illness we must devise a cure for as best we can - and any suggestions as how to care for this illness, with our new knowledge of the future, would be welcomed.

Comments

not here.

[elegiaque]

( It puts her in mind of something-

but Solas isn't her first choice of confidante when the question of how she has the information is a sensitive one, so shortly after his announcement, Myrobalan hears from her. )

[untiltheyarent]

Maker.

How marvelous that you could speak with him in the Fade-- I didn't know such a thing was possible. There is no way to prevent the spread of this illness?

[dirth]

Not that I have read. It seems to have isolated itself, however. Not everyone has shown signs of illness.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Softly,] Maker's name. That poor man.

...Thank you, serah. [This is too much to take in at once so he'll stick to picking at facts--] The fever's come and passed--at least there's that much that's different.

Private to Myr and Solas - (sorry about the double notif)

[justice_is_blond]

They sweated their blood, their blue blood. Our people are sweating blue, not their blood. That's another difference.

[Keeping the blood talk to a minimum is probably... for the best.]

[circleprodigy]

[It takes a moment for her to remember who he's even talking about, but...right, she asked him to go to the Fade, didn't she?]

Sweet Maker, that poor man....

[She heaves a sigh.]

Thank you for taking the time to uncover this much, Solas. It may not be the answer we desired, but it's still more information that before. We can build on it, I hope.

...how long do we have? Did he give an estimate?

[dirth]

[ Solas signs, soft and a little tired. ]

It was no trouble for me. He didn't give me any time, only the symptoms. From the fear he felt for his family, however, I can assume it isn't slow.

[gatheringstorm]

...no.... [Quiet, horrified. Suggestions can happen when her brain is capable of processing the notion that she might see Araceli on her deathbed, as well.]

[dirth]

[ Solas... Feels bad. ]

We will find a cure. Please, be calm.

[provenforce]

But why are we blue.

[dirth]

That I have yet to know. It is not something that he was capable of answering.

[nadasharillen]

[A thunk, as the crystal is activated and then apparently fumbled and dropped, followed by a very short period of muffled hysterics before it's deactivated.]

[aestivation]

[ note to self: research mute button ]

[arlathvhen]

[ Beleth is neither hysteric, nor horrified, just quiet. And resigned. ]

I know that many of us have already been praying to our various gods, myself included. I hope...

[ As one of those who've been praying, it feels blasphemous to say 'I hope something better comes up'. ]

Ma serannas. You did what you could.

[dirth]

[ It is not a matter that asks for cheer, but even Solas is trying to smother his natural grim fatalism. ]

If there is someone to answer they may do so. Until then, we must work to find a mortal cure.

[ And then, quieter: ]

I wish there was more.

[aforethought]

The fuck kind of a name is Vufagor.

[ disgruntled. you can tell because she didn't bother to mispronounce it. ]

Blood coming through his skin, then?

[dirth]

I didn't ask.

[ At least there's that. Solas hums. ]

No. He did not present the extreme symptoms he described.

[aestivation]

You say he didn't use magic. Did he describe his family doing so?

[ the newer symptoms, the spontaneous fires. the way those abilities had vanished as suddenly. ]

[dirth]

I didn't ask. He was insulted at the idea of him nullifying magic, so I do not think that it was something foreign, or something considered dangerous. It is possible.

[justice_is_blond]

It ends in death there.

[The news is chilling, especially with what happened to Janzik, but despite his heart being in his throat Anders keeps concern out of his voice.]

Thank you, Solas.

[dirth]

We have more information. That was what we wanted. We can use this.

[laurenande]

I see.

[There is a quiet resignation in her tone, a hollowness that borders on the edge of panic and exhaustion.]

Thank you for your efforts, Solas.

[dirth]

Of course. [ The resignation - he doesn't approve. ] There is still time.

[castintoflames]

(He is angry, but not for himself.)

What is the point of this? Why bring us here if we are only doomed to die?

(Must he watch his family perish? Must he perish again and leave them? No.)

We are blue. Blood is not blue.

[dirth]

I cannot answer those questions. You are not, however, doomed to die. We will find a cure.

[ No, Solas won't allow innocent people to suffer. ]

No. Clearly, whatever the ill are sweating is not their blood but something entirely different.

[sunshinethroughgrey]

[There's the sound of a quill scratching against parchment.]

So, we now know it's a plague that attacks the blood of his people, but the Fade ... changed it, somehow. Our people are not bleeding through the skin, they are sweating out -- what I have been assuming is lyrium.

[There is a tap of the fingers.]

I cannot believe I have not asked this - but - has anyone tested the sweat?

[dirth]

I have not had the chance. It is best left to those with expertise, I think.

[ He's the Fade and Elf expert, not a healer. ]

We have more knowledge now. That shall guide our theories.

[utulien_aure]

Poor man.

[Fingon shakes his head and considers this news. All right, the odds seem slim but that’s hardly surprising. ]

Is there anything we afflicted should be doing to aid in your research?

[dirth]

Speak to the healers. Do not hesitate to make sure people are aware if your symptoms worsen. If it seems as though you are beginning to suffer from more, do not attempt to survive it alone.

[tar_minyatur]

Ahhhh that's a bad thing all around. Wish Elrond was here, but maybe it's good that he's not. He's never going to forgive me. That poor man. No way to get word to his family, I assume?

[dirth]

Not that I can think of. They are beyond us, now, and he is focussed only on returning to them.

[earthbones]

Your priests here are useless with gods that don't-- [a breath that rattles in, one of the sick but she'd be doing this anyway only hissing it] reach them, your mages are small petty squabbling things.

[Her laugh is hollow as Lorkhan's ribs where he is dead and dying and dead.]

Send him to the void and be done with it. I am stretched thin by this. There's limit and limiter, someone should decide before a larger hand does; do you know where dead like him go?

[dirth]

They are not my priests.

[ This is certainly uncomfortable, but Solas scoffs quietly. ]

He has done nothing to merit death. It is unfortunate that he is here, but needless murder will not earn anyone favour.

[champions]

( If this were the time for jokes in poor taste, we could wonder if he was as forgettable at dinner parties. Thankfully, her usual flippancy and interest in saying things simply for the sake of conversation (or finding out where said conversation leads) is set aside. )

It is unfortunate he has suffered as he has. Is there anything we can do to— perhaps "bring comfort" and "ease his suffering" are both poor choices of words?

( Especially when what he seems to desire most is family. Admittedly she thinks rifters are a bit precious, and how beloved they are is kind of absurd, but she's not a monster. (Sidenote: that doesn't mean she doesn't think death might be a mercy.) )

I wonder if magic has something to do with immunity. Native magic, not the rifter kind. ( She exhales a breath - honestly, she has no idea, and that's annoying even though it's outside her skillset. ) I am no healer. Unless fine wines are the key to the solution, I fear I am not much help.

[dirth]

It would require finding where his body has disappeared to. I fear that he may have opened his own Rift and ventured into the Fade alone, but I have no proof. Helping him will require us devising a way to help everyone else, however.

[ He wants to get home, and Solas can appreciate that. Sometimes he wonders, questions, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, tucking them away and leaving them to mull over later when the pressure of performance is not resting so heavily on his shoulders. ]

Perhaps. There's no reason why our magic would not offer some protection, considering the nature of who has fallen ill and who hasn't. [ Any theories are something when they literally have nothing to hand. ] I'm sure there are some that would enjoy the prospect of a good drink.