paging dr. house

With the last dregs of fever draining away with the ooze that was still trickling down his throat in the worst form of post-nasal drip, the celestial brute decided to make a trip to the infirmary. After the plague had ripped through the pack unlike anything he'd ever witnessed, there was no way he would be unprepared for another one. He was already considering the variety of concoctions he could get to work on. Something to loosen phlegm and fluid buildup in the lungs, making it easier to dispel. About nine different kinds of fever treatments, to be sure...  

Lost in thought, he shouldered the door to the pharmacy open with very little regard for who or what might be inside. It banged roughly against the wall, and he winced. Be gentle with the old wood, you oaf. That subconscious voice chastising him sounded an awful lot like his mothers... even after all these years, it was her voice that offered any kind of reason at the back of his mind. Grunting to himself in disdain, he lumbered through the storage room where most of the packs herb stores were kept safe from sunlight and temperature fluctuations. To start with, he'd gather up whatever stocks of marshmallow might be left. It was one of the best herbs he knew of for coughs that was relatively easy on the patient, and with everyone still recovering from the strange plague, there was more risk associated with using something more aggressive. Extracting the oils from it would be the best bet, though he might also make up some of those weird bundles his mother used to make him chew on when he was ill...

The colossal male busied himself with collecting the marshmallow he wanted, as well as some boneset that he happened upon. His fever had been quite mild, but he wouldn't be taking chances with getting caught unawares next time. While he did reach for the cluster of dried lavender, he opted against it. Best not to get ahead of himself today, as this project was already set to take up most of his day. Clutching his dried herbs oh so delicately between his massive jaws, he set about climbing the winding staircase back up to his room on the third floor of the castle.

By the time he had reached the third floor, his mind was already lost in planning. However, with one paw wedged between the door of his room and its frame, he found himself pausing. Why? As he returned to the present moment, fully conscious of his awkward lurking outside of his own bedroom, he took a moment to try and find the source of his distraction. Gentle susurrating from somewhere behind him, the sound of something sweeping continually over the floor. Frowning, he pushed the door of his room open and deposited his herbs on the top of a low bookcase near the door. Wandering back out into the hallway, ivory tipped auds swiveled in search of the source of the strange sound. Movement caught his eye through the cracked door of one of his packmates neighbouring rooms, along with the retreating figure of a small animal.

Undeniably intrigued, he dared to creep closer to the doorway. He could smell that someone was in there. Had been in there for some time, in fact. Their scent permeated the air that swept through the gap in the frame. Alongside it, the familiar acrid tang of the plague. The cosmic brute shouldered the door open, perhaps a little too roughly, but kept his head low as he entered. He couldn't shake the concern that someone was still gripped by the sickness, and trapped in their room. Riddled with fungus or crystals, unable to cry out for help. When he found his paw grazing a soft, moving object, he paused. Looked down. That was... a new one. A badger. But the badger was sweeping the floor. With a broom. A very small broom. The goliath's maw opened, and shut. Brows pinched together in confusion for a moment, before his expression returned to its usual stoic blankness. Brilliant ruby eyes lifted and scanned the room, looking for some variety of context. Anything to explain why a badger was doing chores. There was a dark furred wolf, laid out by one of the windows, gazing balefully out onto the castle grounds.

She looked pitifully frail, all skin and bones and weak muscles. He frowned down at her, heavy skull tipped to one side with unabashed interest. "What's the matter with you?" he grunted, not bothering to move aside so that the little mustelid could continue sweeping the space that he was now standing in.