#err505

Where: Same location as the belated New Sweep Party.

When: Halloween, All-Day

What: Meals provided. Entertainment includes; Haunted Hive, Costume contest, Movies&Games

Who: Hosted by @m3wsday , @sefoni , @err505 !

They're all gone! 5orry

Who i5 your plu5 one?

+POSITIVE:

You make me laugh ║ I am inspired by you ║ I trust you wholeheartedly ║ I consider you a role model ║ I am interested in you romantically ║ I am interested in you sexually ║ I am protective over you ║ I support you ║ In my ideal world, you are happy ║ You give me cute aggression ║ You have done so much for me ║ Your approval is meaningful to me ║ I think of you often ║ I hope you are a permanent fixture in my life ║ You don't get enough credit ║ Your presence is a mood boost

±NEUTRAL:

We are vibing ║ I like your posts ║ I respect what you've been through ║ I hope you get what you deserve ║ We may not be close, but I enjoy what we have ║ I wish you would seek help ║ Knowing you has changed me ║ I consider you trustworthy ║ You remind me of myself ║ I like bumping into you at the function ║ I idolize you ║ We share a lot of common interests ║ You're cool

-NEGATIVE:

> The past couple of days have been a pleasant break from the intense hustle and bustle of palace life. You can't help but feel a touch bad for 5ollux, they were not yet experienced in the role of Empress and it will be a while before you can safely say they are. It's an experience at least, one you're certain they will not forget for a while...

> None the less, you've been able to sleep and work on things at a much more relaxed rate than normal!

> The work has been done for hours, you're laid on the couch with a bonnet on your head, a few small snacks at your side and your computer in front of you. As the clock strikes midday you felt your vision fade as you were sent back to your body.

> This vacation has come to an end.

In other ways, caring for a deeply unconscious friend feels like coming home. How many times is it now that you have brought home a Sollux alt like a sickly meowbeast living beneath a rotting back porch? At least three, maybe four times now?

You tidy her up thoroughly with water, hypoallergenic seadweller-safe medical soap, careful to avoid the wound, flush everything, then a saline soak. It's all textbook -- strict, methodical, no deviations. Check the debridement site and gills for irritation, finding none.

Despite all of the disasters that paved the way, the debridement seems to have been a success after all, and the sutures are done perfectly well. There's a massive cognitive disconnect between the skill on display in these stitches and the total incompetence in the files you found.

You size up a nightgown for her and set her up in a guest block, have Sefoni monitor her briefly while you scrub the guts out of your hair, claws like steel wool on your scalp. Then it's onto picking up where the hospital left off -- taking samples of that still-off blood to run your own tests on, administering intravenous fluids, exhaustedly tidying and wrapping Sol's hair so her scalp won't ache when she awakens.

Hours on and off of taking notes, running the centrifuge you've brought up, hunched over a microscope in a teddy and a dressing gown, like it's a completely reasonable sleepover activity. There's still something wrong, though the necrosis is gone -- still something happening in there, with tight breaths and oculars flitting behind closed lids.

Eventually, you finish out your set of notes and pull your desk chair over to her bedside, leaning over and allowing your forehead to rest on her hip.

Dozing doesn't come easily -- some sense of danger kicks up in the back of your head every now and then causing you to sit up like a shot, look around warily, recall where you are. Tyrian usually smells so nice, but there's a hint of rotting fruit lingering in the air -- lingering in your short dreams.

This time when you wake up, it's with fingers in your hair -- hesitant, a light touch. You turn your head slightly to blink, see Sol looking at you with a look of bleary confusion on her face.

What time is it?

Sitting up, you stretch your arms out over your head -- it feels and sounds like every single joint cracks, your body like a fresh glowstick as you light up from the soles of your feet to the tips of your ears.

Your hands close over hers and you lock eyes with her briefly before even that's too much and you glance back down at your hands, squeezing.