InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Hey, Dr. Badass!"

ciɳɗy (ciɳɗɛʀɛʆʆɑ) ѵɑkɑʀiɑɳ (silvershoes) wrote in valarlogs,
@ 2016-09-04 17:17:00

Entry tags:

!complete, cindy cendrillon (cinderella), garrus vakarian, midna, zelda

Who: Three Princesses & an Alien
What: Garrus and Midna take care of their ailing darlings
When: Today
Where: The Vakarian Household
Rating/Warnings: There's a lot of nasty, bloody stuff and also some messing with IV equipment, needles, etc
Status: Complete

As much as Zelda thoroughly enjoyed being in the company of a fellow princess, she wished the circumstances were much more pleasant - as in, with neither of them feeling like death was seeping through their veins, pushing out every drop of blood inside their bodies. From the eyes to mouth, flushed skin and rising body temperature. Nothing arcane could cure it, not a handwave of healing magic or the meticulous concoction of a potion - which meant one very grim thing.

The plague had ravaged Orange County.

Either a sadistic cycle that this hellhole wanted to try out or someone’s dream baggage, Garrus didn’t know but he damn well wished it’d give them some kind of cure, some kind of hope that this was a temporarily predicament and no one would be bagged up and shipped off to the morgue after this episode. It was an epidemic, and he’d thank his slowly changing physiology for not letting him succumb to this illness or contract it. He guessed it was the same for the princess of shadows, too; Midna was no doubt here as well, the two of them looming caretakers over the blondes. It was safer this way. Impa was at their home, disinfecting all she could. They didn’t want to expose her to whatever this was.

A form of quarantine was probably best for the time being. Which also meant he had to force an overprotective ex-assassin from coming over, despite how much she wanted to play mother hen over her ‘Cindy-lou.’

“This keeps up, I’m going to get IVs for fluids from work,” Garrus grumbled, forehead creased in frustration and concern. Right now they’d managed to get their women comfortable - curled up balls on the couch, buckets at their sides, glasses of water for fluids, tissues for their bloody tears and Cake Wars buzzing on the television in the background. Odd choice, but Zelda had deliriously insisted on it.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening, she was supposed to be a tank - Cindy hadn’t succumbed to the effects of poisonous turian semen (which was a good thing, a positive sign for the future the more she thought back on it - must have meant her alien was truly the one), she’d been shot and stabbed and starved and beaten, even just about fucking exploded when a greasy Big Mac box tipped Garrus off to a bomb planted in the former Huntington Beach home, only to walk away from the experience physically, mostly, fine. But now all of a sudden she was overcome with the latest plague to ravage Orange County. A weird form of Ebola, or flesh-eating virus, maybe even related to Zika? She didn’t know. But stop the carousel, please, she wanted off.

Everything was tipping over and bleeding - tissues were stained with blood and red was not a good backdrop for baby blue peepers; Cindy was aware she looked diseased yet that didn’t stop her from trying to act like she was fine. Only it wasn’t very convincing, because she could hardly do anything besides lie as a blanket-covered lump on the couch. Cake Wars, though. That was pleasant. Especially for someone who couldn’t bake worth a damn.

“The best part is when they drop a whole tier as they’re walking to the judges table,” she snorted, stuffing more tissues up her nose. God, she felt fucking nauseous. Eating was never going to be a thing, ever again. “Bitches.”

Midna sighed, looking a little frazzled yet determined to play Nurse to her fellow princesses. And ensure Garrus didn’t run himself ragged. “I mean, they need fluids, right?” She looked disparagingly toward the fridge. “I know it’s hard to keep stuff down but rehydrating or whatever. We need to make sure they don’t shrivel up.” Keep those tissues healthy and hydrated too - honestly, Midna was frustrated that she couldn’t call upon magic to help. She’d have abandoned her self-imposed sense of restraint if it meant saving her loved ones. However, the Triforce of Power could do just about anything - except this.

“Or when they realize the cake is facing the wrong way,” the princess of light hoarsely giggled, frail-looking as she drowned in sweatpants and sweatshirt; she was still feverish, of course, but felt cold. The little bit if illusory magic that kept her ears looking human was too much to keep up in this state - the long points stuck out from her disheveled hair, occasionally twitching. “I guess fondant really is that --”

Hold that thought. A gag, a gurgle of something, and the elven woman reached for her signature bucket. A couple unattractive coughs later, and there was a splutter and splash of crimson on the bottom of it.

The sound caused Garrus to wince. “That’s going to have to be the plan,” he told Midna, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “You can warp, right? If I tell you where to go and what to get, can you get it? It’s a government building - you’ll be fine.” He doubted she’d go in there and snatch up government sensitive information, and he cared very little for proper protocol when his wife and friend were stationed on the couch vomiting blood. “One of us needs to stay behind and make sure they at least stay conscious.”

Cindy’s response to Zelda’s giggle was a laugh of her own, because her sense of schadenfreude was kicking in being that she felt so miserable herself - and damnit, nothing was more amusing now than the contestants on Cake Wars ruining their lives over their own stupid blunders. Except that laugh caused a hack and wheeze in turn - nothing left in her stomach to puke up, but she was still vomiting blood and added her own red-stained phlegm and bile to the contents of her bucket. They each had one, it was for the sake of convenience and not having to dash to the bathroom.

She wasn’t doing much dashing now anyway.

“Next episode is Powerpuff Girls - honey,” Cindy called, voice delirious and resembling the crunch of gravel underfoot. “Come watch with us.” Was there a Mass Effect episode? She wanted to see someone make a Garrus cake. Om nom nom.

Oh man, those two sounded like goners. Midna was ready to do this. “I can warp,” she nodded. “I’ve never been to...I guess they just call it The Agency? Never been but I’ll get there, just tell me what kinda IV stuff to get. I doubt they’ll drink water in the meantime but if they do, all the better.”

She tied her hair back into a ponytail, and grabbed a knapsack to bring with her - one she usually carried her Arabic books in, for school, when she was going to classes. And she’d stuff as much science stuff in here as she could. “Did we ever figure out what this weird disease even was?” Besides the nasty bleeding face virus, which probably wasn’t a medical term.

“They weren’t very creative when they came up with the name, I know,” Garrus expressed with a sigh, but it was what it was - it’s main function was coming up with ‘creative’ cover stories anyway, and he guessed to provide employment so certain people could feel important. “There’s storage rooms on the medical floor with what we need,” he went on, and also compiled a list for reference on a post-it note with mostly eligible handwriting. “Here’s the storage room number, directions -- yeah, Cin, I’ll be there in a minute -- and it’s never a usually populated building, so you shouldn’t run into anyone. If you do, just tell them I sent you.”

He’d be on the couch with his ill wife shortly. His clothes were also meant to be barfed on as it was, and he was prepared. Whatever it took to take care of her.

Zelda plucked a couple tissues from the box and wiped her mouth, groaning. “Powerpuff Girls have the potential to be terrifying. Remember the Alice in Wonderland one? Fondant Alice looked like she needed to go on a D.A.R.E poster somewhere.” Conversations for distractions were nice; she was trying not to focus on how awful she felt, and blinked those bleary, literally blood-shot eyes over to the towering two on the other side of the room. “You guys are really missing out!”

That was a hint of come hither, Midna, I vow to not sneeze blood snot on you.

Suuuuure, they were really missing out, alright. Midna just looked at Garrus like ‘this fever must be raging out of control’ and would try not to upset her pointy-eared other half by assuring that she would be parking her ass on the sofa as soon as possible to watch ambitious bakers make ugly fondant masterpieces.

“Just gonna step out for a sec, I’ll be right back,” she told the two miserable princesses. Taking the list from Garrus, she gave it a quick read-through to visualize the contents. And visualize where they might be in the building - the Triforce of Power gave enough of a boost to those portals to be able to extend her range to, well, basically anywhere. But it was always nice to have a reference point. “You two want anything while I’m gone?”

Cindy hacked up another particularly impressive bloodied loogie. “Cocaine. I need to clear my sinuses.” No, she wasn’t being serious. Mostly. Maybe like only 40% serious.

Shaking her head, Midna simply activated the green glow of portal magic - the formation of the Twili symbols fused together on the ground, then opened, swallowing her. When they closed once more, she was gone.

What. What?? Zelda sensed that zing of power piercing through the still air before the vortex appeared. With how heavy her head felt it was a bit difficult to multitask in regards to splitting her attention from what was on the television and their conversation, but her sharp ears seemed to have twitched in...disappointment? “Where did she go -”

“Bringing back medical supplies by illegally popping into a government building,” Garrus added nonchalantly, gracing the couch with his presence. He wedged himself in, draping a long arm over his much smaller significant other. He’d seen her with half her face off - her condition was honestly nothing compared to that, though he’d of course still worry. “She’ll be back quick, don’t worry.”

Illegally popping into a government building. Zelda let that simmer for a couple seconds before coming to peace with the terms. To be fair, it sounded like something Midna would do shooting tequila - that little rebel.

While keeping them company, he tenderly smoothed some of Cindy’s wild hair of illness. “Best thing we can do for the both of you is to hook you up to some IVs, keep you guys hydrated in a way that won’t have you vomiting so much - we can set up camp in the living room.” It was roomy, the television was the biggest in this room, and it was in close proximity to the guest bathroom down the hall.

Illegally popping into a government building, huh? “Kind of ironic, since I’m head of Internal Security,” Cindy snorted - and then snorted again, rubbing her nose (how attractive) since blood seemed to be congealed around there and also in her tear ducts. Sweet Lord, she hadn’t been this sick in awhile. Probably never? Mysterious Blood Barf was even worse than the chicken pox when you were a kid and there was no relief from the itching.

She leaned against Garrus, feeling her bones beginning to liquify. Yep, she’d just stay riiiiiiight here for the time being. Through sickness and health, was how it went up there in space during those vows? How sweet of him. “How much longer is this even going to last? Has anyone checked the network?” the ailing fairytale princess continued. Had anyone died? That would just be the cherry on top of the shit cake.

Cindy could be growing tentacles from her ears and he’d still find her attractive - something about being in love did that to you, he heard. None of it bothered him, he just wished he could do something more to make her feel better aside from letting whatever plague this was run its natural course. “Someone’s dream thing is what I gathered,” Garrus answered, brushing away the little flyaway hairs that stuck to her neck. “I’m keeping an eye out in case someone miraculously develops a cure. So far, nothing.”

He’d try not to lose his patience, but this place had a habit of testing it.

“And a cure by magic isn’t always the answer,” Zelda tacked on, twisting the pieces of tissue paper to stick up her nose. Desperate times, desperate measures, and her nostrils were leaking. The bright colors of the television, those were beginning to make her head throb a little more painfully too. “It’s been attempted, unsuccessfully.” Of course, if magic somehow ‘fixed’ everything it’d make their lives here that much easier to live, wouldn’t it? Unacceptable in the eyes of this place.

The television really was starting to cause a migraine. But Cindy didn’t want to give up mindless entertainment quite yet - if she could still somewhat coherently focus on nonsense like 16 and Pregnant, then that meant she was still alive. And hadn’t fucking died again.

“Must suck for you magic folk,” she smiled sympathetically - except that kind of hurt her face, ow. It was much better to lie here in a lump and not move a muscle, any muscle. “I know I’m pissed too, because apparently whatever fables magic that keeps me from dying after being riddled with bullets doesn’t mean jack shit against turbocharged dreamspace Zika or whatever this is.”

Rude, Orange County.

Speaking of magic there was a tug of it in the air, like cabin pressure dropped for a moment - then, in the midst of their lamenting, here Midna returned through a Twili-symboled portal with a knapsack full of goodies. “Okay, back with presents!” she announced. “I got liiiiike...IV bags, IV poles that have fold-up legs, some syringes, weird looking pump things, uh....a few trays?”

She opened the bag and let Garrus see, rather than dumping it out onto the coffee table. Maybe because all this shit was supposed to be sterile.

Oh, goddesses. Zelda had to laugh at the way Cindy explained her fable woes, even if it physically hurt her ribs - so much vomiting had happened within the last twenty-four hours that her body was aching from it. It almost stirred another potential spew of whatever was left up to vomit at this rate, but in came the Twilight Princess with some kind of equipment for the good of their deteriorated health.

Well, well. If it wasn’t the medical fairy. Garrus carefully peeled himself from the entrapment of cuddling the fairytale princess - for the time being, that is, he’d be back soon - and examined the contents she’d brought. “Looks good. Biggest issue we’re going to have is finding their veins, though,” Garrus blew a rough sigh. Dehydration meant a shrinking of veins, literally, and the last thing he wanted to do was to blindly stab their arms until he hit a line. Either way, they’d safely figure it out. The two of them needed this. “Start getting their arms ready, and I’ll prepare the the bags and needle.”

Getting their arms ready? Like, what? Okay. Midna could handle that - hey, she’d just warped to and from a secure government facility (where all the important people work!) and shoved a whole bunch of medical supplies in a bag, surely it wasn’t that hard to use them?

“Got it,” she saluted, and let Garrus handle the needle part because ew. Starting with Zelda, she examined the blonde’s arm which looked pale as a bag of flour - actually, Zelda herself was pale as a bag of flour right now - and flicked the crease of her elbow a few times to see what happened. No? “Man, how do heroin addicts do this?”

Whatever. She thought she heard somewhere that increased blood pressure and heat helped you find tricky, hidden veins - so she did what any normal person would do. Which meant, she groped Zelda under her shirt and gave her a nipple twist.

This was why Midna wasn’t a nurse.

“You don’t have to do that to me, my veins are visible,” Cindy insisted, holding out her arm.

There was a very succinct yelp from the princess of light that disturbed the young man of a feline that was Bigby - still with his bowtie collar - from his snooze and, true to all the cat videos swarming the internet, leapt away from the crowd in a hysterical cat fashion akin to ritualistic shaman gestures.

Nipple twisting.

Really?

“Midna!” Zelda tried to screech, she really did, but it was like a pitifully sick lion cub trying to match an adult roar. Broken up, raspy, somewhat hilarious, and an utter failure.

Whatever worked, right? Though Garrus tried not to even let out a chuckle at Midna’s antics, he really did, but the crooked grin betrayed most of that resolve. “You sure?” he asked Cindy, his eyebrow raising in such a come hither way. “Sometimes we have to do certain things to help those we love.” Pinching a nip being one of them, but alright, most jokes aside he’d finished assembling and setting up the steel poles and connecting the plastic tubes to the syringe and bag. He knew medical basics thanks to his background in both lives - this wasn’t anything too complex, and he’d use Zelda as his first guinea pig.

Her blood-rimmed eyes squinted, and she sunk into the couch like it’d pull her into another dimension where this wasn’t actually her reality. “I’m going to bite your nipple so hard, when I’m less likely to projectile bleed from my mouth - you won’t see it coming. There will be no warning.”

“You’ll definitely feel a prick with the way you are now,” Garrus warned, and that was directed to the both of them. He hoisted the bag up onto one of the hooks, disinfected her arm, and handed Midna some clear tape to hold. He could actually get a glimpse of a vein, too - a thin stream of green-blue under that ghost skin. It was the best one to try and stab, anyway, so with a count to three, he swiftly got the needle in.

Successfully. He looked relieved, and Zelda mostly looked uncomfortable.

Now, to prep the second one. “Your turn, Cin.”

Oooooh, kinky. “Threatening to bite my nipples, Zellie, not in front of company,” Midna cackled - but really, she didn’t care, she thought it was hilarious. And she’d gladly take the punishment - the effects of the twist had been worth it, because later they all would laugh and laugh. Well, poor Zelda probably didn’t think so, but hey. “There, see, it’s in. Now we can cuddle on the couch,” she promised, scooting closer to love all on the yin to her yang. “And I’ll brush your hair.” Because it was soothing and felt nice when overall you felt crappy, and that spun gold mess was looking like it could use a few strokes anyway.

“Do I have to?” Cindy sighed, her question and attempt at breathing punctuated by a few more hacking coughs. Well, that definitely answered the inquiry.

At least Midna made herself useful for a minute by helping to disinfect Cindy’s arm the way Garrus did it on Zelda, using the rubbing alcohol and cotton.

Apologies in the form of cuddling. Zelda could find that acceptable, sure - and it wasn’t like she had the energy to spend being all huffy and puffy about a purple nurple. Without further ado, she nuzzled into the arms of her other half and pressed her febrile cheek against her royal bosom. No biting on the nips yet. “This needs to be over now,” was her weary whine, letting her lids fall over those sanguine eyes - the colors on the television were officially bright, and was neon pink fondant really necessary?

“I can’t believe that’s even a question,” Garrus remarked, but he knew this wasn’t exactly Cindy’s version of a good time. Once the needle was in, he’d feel better about her getting sufficient hydration. Hell, he was sure even she’d feel a little better - lack of fluids caused lethargy and weakness, so he hoped it’d pep the two blondes up soon. He wanted to see progress, goddamnit.

He cradled the back of her head and brought her in for a kiss to the temple, and his hand brushed against the her tangled hair. “It’ll be over soon; I’ll sit back down, you can sleep. Neither of us are going anywhere.”

Instead of searching for a vein with his eyes, he felt it with his fingers instead - pushing and pressing for a bulge of a bloodline, and eventually there was an emergence of a thin line he could stick the needle in. Confident this would be the best bet, he pulled the cap of the syringe off with his less than human teeth, prepped her to count to three and -

There. It slid in, even if he had to add a little extra pressure to get it through her skin.

“Done,” he sighed. “Was it bad?”

“Wasn’t exactly good,” Cindy joked, weakly, but she was still breathing and had felt a lot worse pain in her life than a pin prick or two (even with that little extra pressure). “Really, I’m fine, honey.” Now came the part where she attempted to get comfortable on the sofa with an IV in her arm - it wasn’t so easy, as one might expect.

She leaned against Garrus again and only winced slightly to accommodate for the jabbing sensation before settling in the cushions - now, with a blanket and Cake Wars still droning on, maybe she could get comfortable and catch a few winks.

Before the next bout of puking overtook her and Zelda. Still, she didn’t plan on shuffling off this mortal coil - not again, not today OC.

Unless there was a breakthrough discovery of a cure, all they could really do was wait. Keep an eye on their vitals, make sure their fever didn’t get to the point of making their brain boil. There was a thermometer always ready to gauge an exact number of body temperature, and between him and Midna they’d keep with the cold compresses against their flushed faces. Ease the symptoms until whatever the hell this shit was finished its course through their bodies.

Garrus made himself comfortable on the couch of princesses - he was between Midna and Cindy, and with an arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders, his free fist was held up to his sister in blue.

Brofisting. He was doing it right. Right?

“We’ll break out the beer once they pass out.”

Cold compresses felt sooooo nice on a forehead you could fry an egg on, and Cindy was fine with just lying here sprawled all over her husband and probably drooling as she dozed in and out of consciousness. Midna didn’t mind either - obviously she’d been exposed to the disease from hell and hadn’t caught anything, so, all she could do was help her loved ones wait it out. And help ease the feeling that jumping off a bridge was not the answer.

“Beer,” she grunted, giving Garrus that bro-fist in return. Awwww, yeah! Pass the Guinness and keep it nice and bready. They totally had this.