[AW+] most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

tl;dr feel free to skip until the asterisks! Non-mandatory pack meeting for all Cavaliers! If your character does not post, attendance is still assumed. Dated for the 21st, Lyris will be announcing Luca's illness and the potential outbreak and be taking action. (+600)

Lyris glared with fiery eyes at the droplets of rain that burst themselves against the window pane inches from her nose, her expression akin to one she would wear in the face of an enemy. The expanse of the Fort was watery and undefined beyond the blur of the glass, but it did not disrupt the well-trained eyes of the huntress to watch Cavaliers move among the downpour. It had been falling for days, off and on, off and on, off and on.

Had Lyris looked out the window several days ago, she would see all activity ceased. The knights would be at home with their beloved, looking on in amusement at the few puppies who dared to venture into the rain, sticking out their tongues to capture fat droplets and wrestling in the mud. Lyris could almost hear her own voice as it scolded her children for the mess they had made, perhaps a hint of amusement buried deep within. The water was welcome. It was harmless, those first few days. Oh, how ignorant they all had been.

After the first few days, it was clear the rain was not going to stop, so the Cavaliers had reluctantly returned to the work that could be paused no longer. But none could have guessed at what was to come. The unwelcome memory of ten baby chicks, bodies stiff and cold and dead, crowded her vision. The mother violently shook her head as if the motion could fling all thoughts from her mind. In the heartbeat that followed, a voice fell upon her ears.


She stepped away from the window that was set in the wall of the patient's room, and instead turned to Luca, crumpled upon the lonely cot shoved into a corner of the room. Lyris knelt before him on the cold tile floor, her proud ears fallen back. The Lune's form was shaken with shivers, despite being layered with blanket upon blanket of downy fur. As the Stryder took the fingers of the sick man, she noted the fever that still ran rampant at her touch. Her mate's golden eyes were dull and watery with discharge, the pain clear within them despite Luca's attempts to conceal it, always the valiant king.

He did not speak, and neither did she. Moments passed, only broken by the noises of his rattling breath and the water pounding against the window. She waited until he had fallen asleep, and then Lyris left. But her stride was not slow and sullen, as it had been upon entering the room hours ago. No, it was swift and powerful once again. The Mani's eyes were emblazoned with a curious mission.

* * *

Lyris stood at the forefront of the barren great hall, her eyes once again settled on the endless rain that pelted Fort Kingsbury. She watched the overflowing fountain as it poured water down its cracked sides and did not move for a long while. She saw her packmates pass both near and far, some with their heads bent together, whispers undoubtedly mentioning the words Lune and dead chicks and outbreak. She saw a glitter of fear in those eyes that passed her by, unseen beyond the veil of falling water, and she made her decision.

Lyris's howl cut across the muffled noises that the weather had brought, crisp and clear and demanding of attention. It would not be the howl that they were so used to calling these meetings. Luca would not stand here, in his rightful place that Lyris now occupied. No, he was ill in the patient rooms, along with Tennyson and Clara. More would occupy the remaining spaces. This was an outbreak, but it could not be ignored any longer. As the wet bodies of Cavaliers began to trickle into the great hall, Lyris watched silently, her cougar-fur lined cloak swept across her shoulders.

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Arlen Stryder
WC: 312 | OOC: Tongue

When the rains had first come, Arlen had been... Well, he'd been less than ecstatic, but he'd still been happy about it. Truth be told, Arlen absolutely despised the foul weather but at least it got him out of a few of the worse chores and training. For the first time in almost a month, his arms didn't hurt from the extensive weight training that his uncle had put him to. It was glorious.

Or, it would be. Despite his brief reprieve from chores, something even worse had happened. Luca had gotten sick. Arlen's hero, idol, god, had fallen. At first, it hadn't been anything to worry about. Everyone got the sniffles every now and again, but this was worse. So much worse. Though so far, no one had dared utter the words in front of him, he'd caught snips of conversations and rumors that floated around his father's illness and what it meant for their pack. Though it had always infuriated him to no end that they'd had such little faith in their Lune, they voiced his deepest fears. What would he do if Luca was dying? If he was to lose not just an uncle this time, but the very man who had given him life?

Though these past few weeks, he'd put on a brave face in front of his family, Arlen was afraid that his worst fears were soon coming true. When his mother's call cut through the sodden silence, he wasn't surprised. He slowly approached her, wet paws squelching on the hard flooring. He stood before her with his arms pulled tight over his wet chest. He glanced around at his packmates before back at his stern mother. Should she make eye contact, he'd give her a quick smile to let her know that he cared. He saw just how much she was hurting and he cared.

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Optime (+390)

The rains had been consistent for weeks now. At first, Teagan had just chalked the wet weather up to being simply spring weather. It had rained a bit last year during this time, after all. Once more, the land had become completely soaked with water, and the Bracciante worried what it might do to the soil over time. Last year, the Red Star had caused a huge wave of water to come inland and drown the Fort. This year? Not quite as dramatic, but, the ground was soggy and wet as ever.

With the constant rain came illness as well. Her little sister had been one of those effected, as well as her father. The pack had also lost all of their baby chickens, which was a bit unsettling. Morty was probably busy with the influx of sick Luperci and livestock alike. It’d perhaps been by some luck that none of Teagan’s animals had been effected, though, the Stryder was too realistic to be counting her lucky stars just yet. Who knew how much longer the wet and warm weather would go on?

Teagan had been in the stables fussing over the birds when her mother let out the rallying call for the pack. Securing the Sanctuary’s cage door, the cream-coated wolfdog made her way to the courthouse at a clipped pace. Of course, it had to be raining when her mother called…

She shook off the rainwater that had collected on her head once she dove under an overhang. Somewhat satisfied that she’d be able to sit through a meeting without feeling the annoying trickle of water on her fur, Teagan stepped inside. A few others had gathered, her little brother, Arlen, being among them. She moved to stand by him, offering him a nod before letting her canary eyes search for Indi amongst the growing crowd.

It hadn’t escaped her notice that her mother was alone at the forefront of the hall. She’d known her father was ill though, and paid it little mind. Rumors had been going around regarding Luca’s illness, but the Stryder hadn’t considered them more than that, rumors, gossip, Luperci jumping to conclusions. Her father was strong and healthy. There was no way he’d be killed by a mere cold. He couldn’t be…

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[size=150]Teagan Stryder[/size]

Sweaty, putrid, filthy smells filled the nostrils of an unwilling nose. Oberon curled his muzzle as he pointed into the gray and heavy sky, plump with the rain that it shed on the land he walked. The coyote had a deep loathing for the rain and all the terrible memories it swept along with it. But nevermind it, he thought as he shook his already damp head, I have somewhere to be.

That urgency of placement was summoned into mind by a single howl, a howl he knew he must answer to. His large red paws made their way into a march towards the Great Hall's doors. His hard beat rampantly as he looked around himself and unto his fellow cavilers. The ghastly silence struck up a tune with his thoughts and the rain, letting his devious mind run furiously free like a bison aflame. The memories those heavy, hallowed droplets gave him were sinister and unwelcome; not to be thought of in the purity of the mighty hall he now stood in.

He shook his head once more and closed his garrus eyes. They stung, he wanted them closed. He didn't want to see- but his eyelids couldn't trap his mind. Memories of his brothers and the rain...the storm that crept up on them like a cougar to young foals. Memories of the storm...the waves that slaughtered them, stole them away from him...

Oberon pulled his cloak's hood off his head and re-adjusted its buckle. He let his paws run along the cloak to dry it, but it's soaked fabric was determined to stay that way. He let out a gruff of frustration at the itchy and now wet cloak he wore, but he did his best to ignore it. Oberon directed his eyes and ears to The Mani with unemotive eyes, simply a stare- blank and empty, but more devoted than even he may have intended. It was all cruelly ironic, with tragedy he felt more purpose, and yet it was what he felt defined him. The trap of tension as he waited for her words nearly stole his breath. Everything was so quiet, so still. Even the rain had lowered its voice. He hated silence, but he also hated the sound of rain. He frowned as he thought on and off, like the rain. On and off...no, it was more like his breath. On and off...no, more like the ocean. More like the waves, pulling out to sea and crashing back in. Like the thunder, striking the earth with a powerful crash and retreating back to the sky. Like the swirl of the storm, throwing itself onto the earth and rushing back when the sun peaks through.

The rain picked up once more, snapping his thoughts back into a dismal reality. Oberon scanned the crowd once more, yet he saw no faces. Did he even want to? Did he want to see the disparity upon their faces? The crowd seemed more sickly than he had remembered. It's just the rain, he told himself. He told himself too much, he thought too much...but he intensely wished he could say he talked too much.

He pondered without his mind, thoughts crossed his mind that he'd dismiss but a few seconds later. His dark eyes made their way to the window. He gazed out it at the blurred scene, it seemed like a different world. The stables were barely visible and the grass appeared to be a far different shade of green than what he was used to; oh how his stilling heart yeared to be in that fantasy world.
OOC text here.

This is why her heart had been called toward the path of a healer. Give her a weapon, or force her to use only what Fenris had given her, and she could protect her pack alongside the best Cavalier. But without her knowledge in herbs and their medicinal use, she'd be more than useless right now. A warrior couldn't fight something like this. Illness had no discretion for Luperci, nonLuperci, or livestock, nor for the strong or the weak. It struck whomever it pleased and left havoc in it's wake.

Veri had never seen anything like this before, not up close like this. Her eyes stared out the kitchen window, her brow furrowed, as her mind reviewed every single herb for it's known uses. She was lucky, so far, to be spared from the illnesses grasp. Her daughter however hadn't been spared as lightly. Isobel had been moved just the day before into the Courthouse with shivers that wracked her petite coywolf frame, discharge from her eyes, and a lack of interest in food. Damon remained healthy for right now, as did Rurik, but the strike on her family scared her.

A howl caused her ears to flick forward, twitching from the near audible urgency. The call was not a summons for a healer, that in itself was a small mercy. Its owner being Lyris, such a call could only mean that their Lune had grown worse. The female Mani called for a meeting, instead. The Medico turned sharply and made for the door of her home, pausing only briefly to grab her rank cloak, not to use as a shield from the downpour of rain but as a show of support in this. Garbed in only the cloak, she made her way across the waterlogged Square and up the steps into the Courthouse. Lyris stood at the head of the great hall, her shoulders squared in determination and strength that the pack needed to see. Everyone gossiped about Luca being struck with the sickness, but the lack of his form beside his mate only made it more real for some.

Veri knew, in detail, how sick Luca really was. She knew how hard it must be for Lyris to stand up there alone; to publicly address the fact that her mate and their leader had fallen deeply ill. But the fire she saw in the Mani's expression served to dispel the pit of dread that had fermented in her belly for so many days. Veri's stride strengthened as she drew closer to where Lyris stood, determined to bolster the other female's announcement, whatever it may be, with the presence of her deer fur Famiglia cloak. Muddied though it was around the hem, the Cavalier purple material still came through strong, just like the members of Casa would. Were the Mani to look in her direction, the white female would see a strong dip of her muzzle to convey her support.
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<div class="title">Veri Secanti</div>
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