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[ Cami - Courtyard ]

When no one responded to her request the black-haired Sun hunter considered just laying down and letting things run their course without her. Playing dead was not always the worst thing to happen. Sometimes you were really dead. Or undead. Remembering the mall her body was wracked with a repulsed shudder just as a familiar, much-welcomed face popped into view.

Well. Two faces. Because Peyton had a twin suddenly. "Pretty sure there's two of you right now, senpai. Gimme a sec." Closing her eyes hands pressed to the ground to steady herself before Cami lifted her head and opened bleary eyes once more. "Better. Somewhat. Do you make any sense of what everyone's going on about?" She never knew what was happening. That was pretty okay with her though.

Everything was pretty okay these days which meant that nothing was okay at all. Yet Cami had been pretending everything was okay for almost a decade. Stopping now just made her seem like a quitter.

[ Courtyard - Peyton ]

For the first time ever in her career as a hunter, Peyton would have been happy to just lie down and let someone else worry about whatever disaster had befallen them this time. She would not, of course, no matter how truly awful she felt at the moment, but it was sorely tempting as she all but staggered up to Cami.

"None," she admitted, biting back the whine that was pressing in from the back of her throat. At least she wasn't the only one that felt like hell. It was a selfish sort of comfort, but she clung to it.

She straightened up, if only to keep from teetering on her feet, and surveyed around them. There were hunters everywhere. She saw Jack, Finn, and Ripley, just to name a few, but she also saw the wall of dense, oversized thorns that seemed to be boxing them in. "What the hell is that?"

HP: 60
Counter: 10

[Dorm - Zascha]

He had been having fitful dreams. But even the alarms took some time to reach Zascha in his slumber land. It was probably about a half hour after they had started and the sound of others yelling outside his door that finally stirred him. The Moon fell out of his bed, laying face down on the floor as the alarms finally registered in his brain.

Green eyes popped open as he quickly stood up. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He could feel it just a bit in his stomach. It wasn't an overwhelming feeling but more of a nagging sense.

After scrambling to get his clothes and armor on just in case it was something serious. Which at Deus it was always serious when the alarms when off. He ventured out of his dorm. Peering into the basement hallway.

"What the hell..." It was then he realized that Gothsmog was unnaturally quiet. Normally she would be swearing up a storm from being awoken with such loud noises and yelling but she wasn't making a sound. That wasn't good at all.

HP: 40
Counter: 3

CHANCE - COURTYARD

"I definitely, seriously, do not want to be put to sleep right about now," said Chance, in as cheerful a tone as he could muster under the circumstances of feeling sick and exhausted. "As for being saved, well, I haven't even seen the Division Leads in my entire time being here so far, which I'm not sure is reassuring or unsettling."

He cast another glance at Otto's slumped form, exhaling a breath before his eyes went to Dawson.

"Don't drop him," Chance said mildly, in reference to Dawson carrying him. He had no idea who the girl he was calling to was, Chance twisting around to look up at her, offering a casual smile.

"Welcome to the party," he said lightly, turning around half in time to see the tail end of what looked like an extremely unhappy expression on Maebe's face. A part of him was about to ask whether she was okay, but the smirk suggested he probably shouldn't, and Chance left it alone.

"If I die, please make sure my telescope goes to someone good," he deadpanned.





IAN - COURTYARD

"Go away, Jack, you're contaminating us," said Ian, just to be obnoxious, and also just because he was still a little annoyed that he hadn't talked to him in ages. And also because attempting to keep the mood light while still being realistic was one of Ian's specialties.

He beamed at Shiloh and held up a hand to make an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger, in spite of the fact that his face was pale and drawn, and he seemed to be on the verge of keeling over. "I am just peachy, babe, don't mind me," said Ian, and pecked a kiss to his fiance's cheek. "Surrounded by awesome people such as my amazingly hot fiance and my bestest friends, what could possibly go wrong?"

Ian smiled charmingly, but Lucky dragging Shiloh off a second later, much to Ian's discontent. He turned his head to look at Quinn and the others, several of whom were unfamiliar.

"So," he said good-naturedly to Quinn. "Out of the frying pan, back in the fire?"

His eyes flickered towards the antsy one with the black hair and green eyes, Ian's brows furrowing as he tried to place him, but gave up when his head hurt too much to think properly. "This is all way too much for my tiny brain to comprehend," he said weakly.

ARORANGI - DORMS / THIRD FLOOR

"I am feeling all right, aroha, do not worry about me," said Arorangi, flashing Lydia a reassuring smile.

The trek upstairs was less than exciting, because he was still feeling extremely tired and sick, but Arorangi followed along with his two companions, determined to not hold anyone up. Lydia's question was met with a small shake of his head as Arorangi pulled his dreads back away from his face.

"I..." he started to say, but stepping into the hallway made his stomach drop unpleasantly.

Arorangi had played his fair share of video games growing up, but he was unfamiliar with the ones Jake was saying, and he put a hand to his chest, stunned at the sheer amount of bodies piled on the floor. The nausea in him rose higher, and Arorangi swallowed hard.

"Let's...let's see if we can help any of them," he said firmly, after a second.

JORDAN - DORMS -> COURTYARD

Jordan stumbled out of bed as the alarms started to blare, grabbing for his clothes in an immediate and conditioned response. Something was wrong, he realized, more wrong than just the alarms, and it took him a few extra drowsy seconds as he pulled his clothes on in a haze to realize what it was.

His mind was silent. There was no soft rumble and breathing hiss underlying his thoughts.

He froze. Then he yanked his shirt down over his head and looked at his hand, a sharp, constricting panic squeezing his chest. Ferros's ring was still on his finger, but the stone was dark, unresponsive, without the subtle shine that was usually present; and it was confusingly cool, only body temperature. Still present. Not a tablet. But -- the thought entered his head and he couldn't shake it -- it felt dead.

No, he told himself sharply. He couldn't afford to think that. He'd been cut off from his weapon's presence before. Ferros was still a totem, not a tablet, and he was still a Hunter. He sat down to pull his boots on and breathed slow and carefully even as he tied the laces, kept his hands as steady as he could as he slipped the sheath with his knife onto his belt and rebuckled it.

He pulled his coat and scarf on, grabbed his mission bag off its hook, and peered cautiously out into the hall before he stepped outside. The hall seemed to be clear of immediate threats, white-coated figures moving here and there; as he headed toward the stairs, though, he spotted someone half-crumpled against a wall, shivering visibly, glassy-eyed, sweating. Not a good ******** sign.

He made it outside without being attacked by anything or anyone, did not draw his knife even though nervous tension made him jittery because he didn't need anyone thinking he was a threat, was constantly aware of the heavy not-quite-cold weight of a ring that should be warm and a numb deafening silence in his head where there should be a living presence woven into his thoughts. There were other hunters milling around outside, no apparent authority present, and some part of his mind said he should start seeing if he could get people into groups, at least paired off for protection, but it was hard to think with that yawning numb ache in his head.

He slowed to a stop, staring at the thorns. "What the ********," he muttered.

Virus counter: 2

---

NOAH - DORMS

The alarm startled Noah out of a dream, and he sat straight up in bed with a squeak that died in his throat as his stomach rolled with the motion. Laz should have been growling in response to the alarm, a low bubbling sound of threat that signaled readiness to fight, but there was silence instead. Al had startled halfway out of bed as he woke, and Noah winced as he looked over, processing the other man's words slowly. "I'm awake," he said, and swallowed against the sick feeling in his gut. "What's happening?"

He crawled out of the bed and located his clothes. Whatever it was, it would probably be better faced in clothes instead of pajamas. "I don't ... feel good,"
he added, half to himself, and picked Laz's totem off the dresser, wrapping it around his wrist automatically. Laz? Wake up. What's wrong? Laz!

No response.

Virus counter: 6

Quinn - COURTYARD

He turned around enough to hear the stuttering responses to his questions, tilting his head to the side briefly wondering why it was such a hard thing to answer. Then again, it was possible that such intel would have gotten Lucky hurt, or worse. Was it that big of a secret?

Well, this wasn't the first or the last time that s**t had hit the fan and they were none the more aware of the 'why' or the 'how'.

He listened to everyone surrounding them, the voices of those he knew and those he didn't earning his attention.

He turned towards his friend as Shiloh was dragged away, looking for a second about as tired as he felt. Quinn was a bit of a sucker, and was better at running than he was at fighting, the only thing he really had going for him was his mind. "Are we ever really out of the fire though, Ian?"