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Snippet #2417196

located in America, a part of Touch, one of the many universes on RPG.

America

None

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Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder
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Light blinded Boston as he sat up gasping, his garments were soaked through and he coughed. "Take it easy soldier, your fever's just broke," a familiar voice assured, "Lay. Be still." The voice asserted as Boston tried to protest. Vision came back hazy at first, blurred shapes; the figure stumbled around bending over and from what Boston could interpret from the clinking noises, the figure was moving items around. There definitely was a fire, he could feel it not to far off. "People forget, you know," the voice conversed, moving towards Boston, "... That there are still diseases and illnesses out there," the figure moved closer and Boston felt a hand wrap around the back of his and motion it upwards. Ceramic pressed against his palm and his other hand was motioned the similarly but to metal, A bowl and spoon.

"To the general populace it's as if a slight feign of unwell is automatically THE epidemic," the voice continued, assisting Boston ladle a mouthful of soup it'd just handed him, "... It's ridiculous, it's as if the whole state see's things through black and white spectacles. You'd be long chucked out of the dome by now, or worse and for what? A mild fever." Boston's head pulsed pain through his body and the blurred vision remained obscurity. "You were talking, in your sleep. Did you know that?" The voice asked.

"No, I..." Boston began but was interjected.
"Something about Eliza..." The voice began, Boston snapped up to the name - soup and bowl dashed beside him. "Hey! That took time and resources we don't have to spare!" The voice berated.
"My sister. That's why I was here. Here in the first place." It took Boston a few breaths but he managed the sentence eventually and then looked directly at the blurr. "I need to go." Boston explained lifting himself up.
"I hate to break it to you, but you're not going anywhere," The voice asserted, "You don't seem to realise the condition you're in, a fever isn't what it used to be. You have residual side effects which may take days even weeks to fade!" Boston knew he knew the voice he just couldn't place it, or see it. The voice and blurr moved closer holding both his shoulders with blurry hands. "You can hear and thats a good sign, you're healing fast," the voice softened, "But considering you haven't said my name nor looked me in the eye once I can tell your vision and memory are imparied, you're vulnerable and useless. For all we know you've seen your sister already and we have a mission."

Boston thought for moment. Whoever it is, makes a compelling argument. "Your foot." Boston responded.
"What about it?" The voice questioned?
"It's damaged." Boston replied, "Left foot. Heel and side."
"Not as blind as you let on huh?" the voice spoke impressed.
"Perhaps not." Boston lied If you didn't stumble and bob about so much perhaps I wouldn't have noticed. "Can you walk?" Boston asked.
"Well enough," the voice responded though Boston felt a tremble in the voice. "Give me a moment to get everything together, put out the fire if you will." The voice requested. Boston turned towards the heat, which now paled in temperature. He kicked dirt towards the embers and hoped that would suffice, the turth was Boston's vision felt as if it was getting worse not better.
"So this way right?" Boston exclaimed, point a direction.
"Yes, so it's all coming back then? You really are a fast healer!" The voice exclaimed. If a guess counts, sure. Boston moved on, failing to notice the woman trailing behind, struggling to keep pace.

"So tell me about this mission..." Boston began.