Word Count :: ew. My muse died. I apologize.

His crutch was coming along nicely. He had smoothed out the corners and fashioned a soft arch that fit his side perfectly. Loviere had decided to take it on a test run, or walk, rather. His left leg still carried much of his weight, but the crutch aided greatly in his balance. The young man walked further into Halifax, golden eyes alert and curious. Exploring had become a hobby of his since joining the pack. Loviere enjoyed getting away from everything, setting out on his own.

Octavian was nearby, Loviere could hear the chatter of the talkative raccoon. The wolf could make out only a few words of the little creature, but from what he heard, his friend was enjoying himself. Loviere approached an old, rundown building, running his hand along its wall as he drew close enough. There were so many curious ruins in this area. The young man could hardly conceal his curiousity. There was something wonderful about having the ability to wander about at his leisure and still belong to a pack, a family. He crouched down, holding the crutch before him to stabilize his movements. A creamy-furred hand gently touched the remnants of a window - shattered glass covered in dust.

Loviere and Octavian both were completely astounded by the amount of human creations that they had already found in the ruin of Halifax. For a good half hour, the man had been amused by his raccoon friend running around with an old scarf. Loviere himself had never been much of a fan of clothing. His parents had discouraged his dabbling in anything human. And he had never found much of a purpose in clothing, perhaps besides self-expression. Loviere expressed himself plenty with his woodwork.

Word Count :: 000 ooc.

The handful of dirt and old glass he had picked up was dropped instantly when he heard the curse. He had assumed that he was alone in this area, but clearly had been mistaken. Waving Octavian off sharply, Loviere made his way down the street, eyes scanning the area for the source of the noise. As he made his way, he spotted the stranger. He seemed to be trying to unlock the gate, and failing to do so. Loviere came closer and the smell of blood hit his brain like a brick wall. He grabbed the crutch at its base and picked up his pace, going as fast as he could with his leg.

"What happened? Here, let me help." Loviere had never seen so much blood in his life. The man was covered in scars and Loviere did not wish to see what lay underneath the bandages. The sight of the blood tugged at his stomach, threatening to sicken him, but he extended his hand to the stranger anyways. "Are there medical supplies inside?"

He stooped down quickly, picking up the fallen key. He stood and blinked stupidly, still staring at the wounds of the man. What type of creature had done this to him? Another man? Loviere looked worriedly at the stranger's eyes, waiting for his response or for any sign that he would allow Loviere to help him.

Word Count :: 000 ooc. dead muse. I'm sorry. DX

Loviere shoved the key into the lock and twisted it. When he heard it click he looked back at the mess of the creature. Did he mean to say he had done this to himself? Loviere wrinkled his nose, slightly disturbed. Wounds hurt enough when they were inflicted by someone else. But to do this to yourself... He had never heard of such a thing. His eyes narrowed at the beast and he wondered if he should help him at all. But then, perhaps there was some explanation for this. Loviere was curious.

"You done this to yourself? You crazy, fellow?" He blinked, eyes drifting from the door of the house to the wounded man and back again. He was half tempted to run, leave this disgusting sight behind, but pity struck him somewhere in the pit of his heart. Pity for this wretch, pity that he seemed so out of it. "Instructed by whom, if I may ask? ...Never mind, I don't want to know. You wait here, I'll go inside."

He waited for an answer before he would go in, wondering if perhaps the wolf might not like him doing into what seemed to be his house.