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Date Posted: 23:26:32 11/06/01 Tue
Author: Laurel and Tristan
Subject: It means cuh-razy, that's what!!
In reply to: Jeremy and all 's message, "Back to normal, whatever that means" on 10:26:00 11/06/01 Tue

Laurel thought it was kind of Justin and Jeremy to take Marz to his room where he could rest and hopefully sleep his injuries off. When only the mercenary returned, she assumed Jeremy must have remained in his room, which was rather strange, since the boy hadn’t been all the hurt. She thought little of the matter, smiling in approval as Justin moved to lift Corum and this time follow Tia out the room. She didn’t miss the look the girl shot her brother, who was still out cold. It made her chuckle softly, wondering if she were merely concerned for his benefit or wishing he might be more injured than he already was so that she might watch over him, as well.

Why does he continue to play such games with her? she thought, staring idly over at Rowan. Tia clearly felt an attraction to him, something Laurel was quite certain of, especially after hearing the admission in the bathing room, all looks of longing aside. Could it be that Rowan was actually unaware of how she felt? How exceedingly unlike him!

She was drawn from her reverie as Justin returned, once again alone. “Oh,” she said, glancing at Tristan and nodding, “Yes. Him, too, please.” While the mercenary was busy lifting the dragon, she turned and placed the orange pill Jeremy had given her under Rowan’s tongue. Rowan had said Jeremy’s parents had been healers, so she’d just have to assume the boy knew what he was passing out.

He muttered something in his sleep, but didn’t immediately awaken. Shrugging to herself, she turned, glancing briefly at Ravin and smiling when he confessed a lack of talent when it came to the kitchens. Well, maybe one of the other women would be willing to help him for right now, at least until she returned. She was just as famished as he probably was, and thought raiding Kazabet’s kitchens wasn’t all that bad an idea. She figured the woman perhaps owed it to them, considering their first dinner had been, well, not exactly up to her usual hospitable standards.

She nodded to Justin and indicated they should leave. Once they reached the guest chamber hallways, she directed him toward Tristan’s room, but stopped briefly in her own to gather the supplies needed for the fever reducing draught she wanted to give him.

“Thank you, Justin,” she said, smiling at him as she returned, “You’ve been a doll.” He nodded gruffly, apparently still too muddleheaded to leer at her as was his general habit, before leaving.

After mixing the draught up, she sat down on the bed, cradling Tristan’s head and tipping the vial ever so slightly into his mouth. It was difficult to get unconscious patients to swallow, but not impossible. He spluttered at first, spilling a good deal of the bluish liquid, and causing her to sigh as she hurriedly mixed another dosage.

“Come on, love,” she soothed, trying again, “You’ll thank me for it later.” Actually, knowing you, probably not! she thought, smiling in satisfaction as she succeeded in getting him to drink the contents of the whole vial.

That done, she placed a cool rag on his forehead before moving to collect her supplies and leave the room, shutting the door on her way out. After dumping her stuff off in her own room, she thought she’d take a peek into Erlic’s and see if he were all right or not. Upon opening the door to his room, however, she discovered it to be empty! A moment later, she smacked herself in the forehead, shaking her head ever so slightly. Of course. He was in Dalo’s room.

Once there, she spotted Eremis in the process of making Erlic comfortable on the floor. She narrowed her eyes, doing a cursory search with her eyes as well as using her druidic abilities to scan his life force. Relief filled her when it seemed he was all right, just physically drained, though that in itself seemed rather odd---he hadn’t eaten any of the food, and there was only one dead zombie in Dalo’s room. Perhaps his wound was simply more severe than it looked.

Dalo, on the other hand, looked very bad off, although, ironically, his energy level was actually greater than Erlic’s. She would have liked to puzzle over the whys and hows of that, put decided she probably wouldn’t come to any logical conclusions while both were unconscious. Sighing slightly to herself, she instead moved to help Eremis lift Erlic onto the bed beside Dalo, making sure both men were as comfortable as possible before finally leaving and returning to the dining room.

Rowan was still slumped on the floor asleep, so she stooped beside him, shaking him by the shoulder in an attempt to wake him. “Rowan,” she sang lightly, “Time to wake up, dulci sari!”

As if someone had suddenly turned a switch on inside him, Rowan’s eyes snapped open, a glittering sparkle lighting up within them. “Sneaky bastard! Haha! Stick my sword up your mangy, good-for-nothing backside,” he muttered in a garbled mixture of elven and common. “Thought you could…Ha! Smelly gutless little turd of a---” he stopped, mid-syllable, and stared up at her. “Oh. Hey, sis.”

“Hello, Rowan,” she said, grinning down at him. He blinked again, shaking his head rapidly like a dog that had gotten something up its nose. “Are you hungry?”

His eyes lit up again. “Shit, yeah! I mean…uh, yes. Please. Yes, I am.”

She rolled her eyes and helped him to a standing position. “Come on, then. Let’s go help Ravin make a dinner that won’t leave half of us stranded in dreamland this time.”

She ignored his muted ramblings about having a battle one second and then zip! , nothing at all. He obviously had no idea he’d been drugged, along with several of the others, but she didn’t see the point in immediately explaining it all to him. Besides, things tended to take a while to sink into his flighty little head.

“Well, what have we to work with?” she asked, striding briskly into the kitchen and giving Ravin a playful smile. She went over to a cupboard and took out several loaves of bread, grinning as she held them up. “Anyone for sandwiches?”

“Wait!” Rowan suddenly yelled, throwing both of his hands out as though he were preparing to stop a wild herd of horses. “We can’t start until we’re wearing the thingies. We gotta wear the thingies!”

Laurel briefly closed her eyes and reached up to pinch at the bridge of her nose as Rowan went about grabbing aprons and tying one around each of their waists. “Let me know if you need any help with that,” he said, winking at Ravin as he tossed him one as well. “Okay, now…we need liquor. Man, I wish Jeremy were here. He’s got some craaazy shit, trust me.”

“Liquor!” she exclaimed, giving him an annoyed look. Why in heavens had she wanted to wake him up again? “And I think you’ll have to do without Jeremy for now. He’s upstairs with…” She paused, suddenly struck by an idea. Shouldn’t Marz have been in Tristan’s room when Justin had deposited the dragon there? And Jeremy had not come back down. “Oh, dear,” she murmured, laughing softly. Well, it was none of her concern what was going on upstairs.

“For goodness sake,” she continued, frowning again, “We’re only making sandwiches, Rowan.” She glanced over at Ravin, taking a bite from a piece of bread as she stared at him. “Unless you’ve a craving for something more complicated. Or do you really know nothing about cooking?” she added, raising one eyebrow at him.



Tristan woke up with the most awful taste in his mouth he’d ever had before. It sat on the back of his tongue and vegetated there, seeping into his skull with each breath that traveled past. He still felt kind of cold, though his face was really hot, oddly enough. The chilly, wet thing on his forehead turned out to be a wet rag, so he quickly yanked the thing off since it was highly uncomfortable. He shivered, pulling the covers up closer around him. Well, at least he wasn't at all nauseated anymore. Something to be thankful for.

It was then that he noticed he was alone. He stopped---stopped shivering, stopped breathing, stopped thinking at all, for a few frantic seconds. Where the hell was Marz? Why wasn’t he here? Shouldn’t he be in bed, as well, recovering from those terrible wounds he’d had, especially that ugly one soaking his shirt all up with blood…?

Oh, gods. Marz wasn’t here. He wasn’t here! Where was he? If something had happened, surely the others would have said…but he was asleep…he’d been so tired….

“Marz?” he croaked, although the sound didn’t carry very far. In the back of his mind, he knew it was stupid to call for someone who couldn’t hear you, but he kept doing it. “Marz? Marz, are you here? Please?”

The stunning realization that something awful must have happened to Marz finally came to his slightly delusional mind. He swallowed the huge lump in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly angry with himself for not having defended him against the zombies. How could he have let himself get so tired? And sick…what was so bad about a stupid upset stomach that he couldn’t even make sure Marz got out of that battle alive?

That is so stupid! a voice in the back of his head cried out, but he could scarcely hear it, he was so overcome with the thought of Marz having died because he hadn’t done all he could to defend him. He pushed his head into the pillow to hide the angry sobs, his mind still slightly clouded by the remnants of the fever brought on by the sleeping powder he’d consumed.

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