FLU EVENT: How I Burn (Open)
Mar 1, 2012 21:43:52 GMT -5
Post by Tanner Larson on Mar 1, 2012 21:43:52 GMT -5
Tanner felt like death. All day he had been meandering around in a daze, eyes glazed over, his head pounding with pressure, his chest rising and falling shallowly with congestion. This was the flu, no doubt, and it was owning him. The school doctor had diagnosed it the moment he'd walked into her office, that was how blatant the symptoms were. Worst of all, his fever was staggering; Tanner had an unusually high body temperature as it was - common for pyros - and the fever had spiked it to temperatures that were simply abnormal for human beings, meta or otherwise. It was making him light-headed, nauseous, and delirious. But he simply wasn't the type of person to lay in bed all day drinking fluids: he had to go to class, had to study, had to do well. And so he went, flu and all, through his day, drifting in and out of consciousness during his classes and remaining altogether unaware of his surroundings as he walked through campus.
Come noon, the blonde decided that, while he did not have any appetite whatsoever, he simply had to eat something; he would force something down if that was necessary. And so he made his way to the cafeteria, intent on getting something to eat. He would probably sit alone at one of the tables and eat as slowly as humanly possible; he was used to sitting alone, as he didn't have that many friends, and he usually just ate when he was hungry, not when his friends felt like meeting him there. At this point, it was probably a good thing that he wasn't coming into close contact with anyone, lest they all become infected as well.
Finding himself in the kitchen, the boy simply stared down at the hot food items. They looked... so unappealing. He could see the steam rising off, could smell all of the aromas from the various dishes mixing together in his nostrils, could hear the oozing sounds of the serving spoons digging into the baked ziti... Oh, God. Tanner was about to get sick all over the kitchen floor. He sealed his lips tightly, shutting his eyes just as tightly as well, and managed to chase off a particularly tsunamic wave of nausea. Deciding that these hot dishes simply weren't going to help, he left the area and went instead to the salad bar. Yes, salad, that was safe. The fresh lettuce, the bland croutons, the crisp tomatoes; that was all very easy to deal with. Picking out a few leaves of lettuce and putting them onto his plate, he dressed it up with some croutons, tomatoes, and grated cheese - the dressing just looked too gloppy, considering the bodily fluid he had just been about to lose all over the place - and proceeded to the check-out counter, grabbing an apple and bottle of water on the way. The cashier probably thought he was some kind of anorexic, but without question he was on his way out of the kitchen and into the seating area.
It was crowded, and loud. He looked around to find an empty table, but he wasn't having any luck finding one. He was breathing heavily now, and it occurred to him that that fluid dripping down onto his plate was his own perspiration. Lifting a hand to touch his face, he had to snap it back due to how hot his forehead was. He placed the water bottle behind his neck, closing his eyes and drooping his head down. It didn't help. Everything was just so... hot. Why was it so hot? And why did everybody have to be so loud? And why was the ground moving? Why was the world spinning out of control? And why was he hearing a faint white noise becoming more and more pronounced?
The boy dropped his tray, which fell to the floor with a loud clatter, his salad skittering across the floor and his apple rolling under a nearby table. No sooner had his tray fallen, than the boy too fell to the ground, collapsed into unconsciousness. The cafeteria wasn't so loud, anymore.
Come noon, the blonde decided that, while he did not have any appetite whatsoever, he simply had to eat something; he would force something down if that was necessary. And so he made his way to the cafeteria, intent on getting something to eat. He would probably sit alone at one of the tables and eat as slowly as humanly possible; he was used to sitting alone, as he didn't have that many friends, and he usually just ate when he was hungry, not when his friends felt like meeting him there. At this point, it was probably a good thing that he wasn't coming into close contact with anyone, lest they all become infected as well.
Finding himself in the kitchen, the boy simply stared down at the hot food items. They looked... so unappealing. He could see the steam rising off, could smell all of the aromas from the various dishes mixing together in his nostrils, could hear the oozing sounds of the serving spoons digging into the baked ziti... Oh, God. Tanner was about to get sick all over the kitchen floor. He sealed his lips tightly, shutting his eyes just as tightly as well, and managed to chase off a particularly tsunamic wave of nausea. Deciding that these hot dishes simply weren't going to help, he left the area and went instead to the salad bar. Yes, salad, that was safe. The fresh lettuce, the bland croutons, the crisp tomatoes; that was all very easy to deal with. Picking out a few leaves of lettuce and putting them onto his plate, he dressed it up with some croutons, tomatoes, and grated cheese - the dressing just looked too gloppy, considering the bodily fluid he had just been about to lose all over the place - and proceeded to the check-out counter, grabbing an apple and bottle of water on the way. The cashier probably thought he was some kind of anorexic, but without question he was on his way out of the kitchen and into the seating area.
It was crowded, and loud. He looked around to find an empty table, but he wasn't having any luck finding one. He was breathing heavily now, and it occurred to him that that fluid dripping down onto his plate was his own perspiration. Lifting a hand to touch his face, he had to snap it back due to how hot his forehead was. He placed the water bottle behind his neck, closing his eyes and drooping his head down. It didn't help. Everything was just so... hot. Why was it so hot? And why did everybody have to be so loud? And why was the ground moving? Why was the world spinning out of control? And why was he hearing a faint white noise becoming more and more pronounced?
The boy dropped his tray, which fell to the floor with a loud clatter, his salad skittering across the floor and his apple rolling under a nearby table. No sooner had his tray fallen, than the boy too fell to the ground, collapsed into unconsciousness. The cafeteria wasn't so loud, anymore.
