[P] [M] - Burning Down the House

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: .

Remy flung the blanket over the horse, his final chore for the day.  Sighing contentedly, the golden eyed male sagged against the wall of the stall, feeling a bone deep weariness that wasn’t unpleasant, but rather came with the knowledge that he’d worked hard and at something he enjoyed.  As Remy stood there, staring at the gelding’s glossy coat, who looked back at him sleepily, Remy began to realise how late it had got.  The stables weren’t a noisy place, but there was always some sound that filtered in from Charmingtown, and that seemed to be muted.  On top of that, the light had stopped coming through the slats.  Remy rubbed at his eyes and wondered where the time had gone.  He had the bad habit of becoming so absorbed with the work that time flew by, and he often forgot to eat, a fact his stomach chose that moment to reminded him of loudly and angrily.

”Sis? Y’ still around?” Remy called, not moving from the warm stall he was standing in.

The two siblings had been working together for a while now.  Rafa and him had both started learning to speak with the horses, trying to get the hang of their language.  They both still worked hard to break in new blood for the gang, and now the pair of them had taken to working in the stables together.  They weren’t tied at the hip, and sometimes they were doing their own thing, but they both enjoyed horses, and so it worked out that way. 

Given how late it had become though, perhaps Rafa had gone and just left him to it.  Had she said goodbye? Sometimes Remy would fall into an almost trance-like state when he was doing his chores.

”I know I’m an idiot, but y’ got any food? Pretty sure I came out with nothin’ and I’m guessin’ everyone at the ugly coyote is gonna be sleepin’.”

Remy fell silent, waiting for a response.  After a couple of moments he heard the quiet creak of the stable’s door being opened, and wondered if Rafa had been out and was returning.  Managing to scrounge up the energy, Remy straightened up and walked out of the stall, familiar grin tugging at his lips.

”Where you-“ His question died at the sight which met his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a figure Remy didn’t recognise.  The Luperci was crouched slightly, with a multi-grey toned pelt, which looked windswept to say the least, and gave the male a somewhat wild appearance.  The stranger didn’t smell of the gang, or much of Charmingtown either.  It was none of those things that had made Remy’s question die though, but the flaming torch the other brandished.  It was always important to be careful with open flames here, but they weren’t unusual, this Luperci though, held the torch with an intent, and Remy had a feeling he knew what that was.  Remy’s golden gaze met the stranger’s startlingly green, and any doubt of what was about to happen, vanished.  Those eyes were feverish and held a fanatical determination that Remy couldn’t ever remember seeing before.

Remy’s mouth was dry, and his mind rebelled at the reality of the encounter.  He knew he had to call out, to move, to do something, instead his eyes were glued to that burning torch, which was underlined by the growing sounds of burgeoning uncertainty in all the stalls around him.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

With the dim white light of a half-moon to guide her, a solitary figure shuffled up from the still waters of Moosehead Lake. Her back bowed and her shoulders heavy, Rafaela toiled under the weight of the wooden pails that she carried. But she did not stop to rest and she did not complain. Between mucking stalls, filling water troughs, and handling horses, physical labor had become familiar to her by now. Instead, she fixed her eyes on the stables ahead and trudged onwards.

It was later than she was used to working and, any other night, her appearance in Charmingtown at this hour might have invited a nosy inquiry or a curious remark. But tonight, just like yesterday evening and the night before that, was different. Because in the wake of Freddy's discovery and return to the safety of the Ganglands, there had come a call of alarm. A raid was imminent; conflict was brewing. And Charmingtown, it seemed, was the intended target.

Sticking to her priorities, Rafaela had wanted to evacuate the horses and the other livestock, to get them as far away from the impending raid as possible. But a mysterious illness had stricken several of their Gang, and with many others preparing for the impending raid, she had neither the resources nor the time to efficiently move so many animals out of Charmingtown without risk of injury or unbridled chaos. Much to her chagrin and trepidation, it just wasn't feasible. The next best course of action -- the only course of action, really -- was to increase their security measures. And, for Rafa, this meant keeping a constant eye on the Lancaster Stockyard and the Old Mill's private stable.

The stables grew steadily larger, the grain of the wood that made up the building's walls starting to stand out in the half moonlight, and a faint scent tickled her nose. She wiggled her snout but it vacated again as quickly as it came, leaving her to wonder. To worry. With an uneasiness settling uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach, Rafaela picked up her pace. By the time she made it to the stables, she was panting. But the breath left her lungs the moment she stepped into the hall.

Stopping abruptly, the water within the pails sloshed over the sides and splashed onto the dirt floor. Rafa froze and her sharp eyes watched the other end of the hall. There, with a burning torch held precariously in one hand, stood a scruffy man she had never seen before. Not far from him stood Remy, also staring, equally as speechless. Perhaps agitated by the smell of smoke or sensing the tension building all around them, a couple of the animals began to shuffle in their stalls.

For several beats, it seemed almost as though even the livestock were afraid to say a word. But then the spell was broken by the sudden keening whinny of a horse and the stables erupted into a symphony of movement and sound.

[WC -- 505]
OOC: Father, Father, Unforgivable plot!
Rat squatted on the prow of the small boat.  His sense of balance meant he felt perfectly comfortable in such a precarious position.  The moon showed half her face tonight, more than Rat would have liked, but there wasn’t much they could do about that.  Instead, he stayed motionless, feeling the wind whip at his face and mane as the boats glided ever closer to their target.  Others were speaking behind him, but Rat paid little attention.  It was true they were all part of the same crew, but Pirate had given Rat his orders and he didn’t need anyone else to fulfil them.  As always he would rely on himself. 

As that last thought came to him, whispers began in his head, deriding, mocking, telling Rat he would fail.  Some of them shouted, cursed him screamed, but he did not move from the prow, and Rat’s expression never wavered.  The voices were something he’d grown accustomed to, and had been speaking to him for as long as he could remember.  They tried to drag at him, to rob him of his will and he knew they wanted him to fail, as so many others had always wanted him to fail.  For some reason, the voices were silent when he sat in the rigging, the ship swaying and creaking, the sea telling him that a storm was coming.  In those times it felt as though a weight, one he did not know was there, was lifted from him and Rat felt the world come into focus.

Rat closed his eyes and took a deep breath, dismissing his reveries and ignoring the jeering in his mind.  The shapes of buildings, dark shapes, against the slightly less dark sky.  There were even sporadic pools of lights, perhaps left burning to fend off what might come in the dark, Rat giggle slightly at that, causing the talking behind him to cease, or perhaps they’d all become aware that the boats were nearing their destination.

There were times when Pirate’s orders were hard to follow, telling Rat to behave himself, or forbidding him from doing something Rat wished to do.  Did Pirate know how much that hurt? To be forbidden from doing something that Rat’s brain desperately wanted, the itching, and the prickling? Anyway, tonight the orders had been to sow chaos, and Rat was happy to oblige.  Rat knew how confusing and disorienting fire could be on a ship, he had no doubt it’d be the same here.

Rat felt the heat from the torch against the side of his face, listening to the almost contended and muffled whoosh as the flames ate the oil soaked around the rag of the torch.  His movements were swift and graceful, moving without hesitancy or weighed down by doubt.  The scent of the animals drew him, everything would be consumed in a conflagration that would attract many of the members, of that Rat had no doubt.  Pushing the door, Rat entered the stables.

The pack Luperci which stared back at him, was an unexpected complication, the male appeared to be equally as surprised however and had not yet called for help.  As the pair stared at one another, a second member entered, from the other end of the building.  In Rat’s mind the shouting and screaming grew so loud it threatened to drown out the sound of the torch.

”Quiet!” He hissed, trying to make himself heard, but the whispered word clearly had been heard by the male who moved.  In that moment, the spell was broken, and Rat tossed the torch, which sailed towards one of the bails.  As it did the flame grew smaller, buffeted by wind created by the toss, and as it landed on the bail it appeared not to be taking.  A heartbeat later though there was smoke, and then, there was a blooming flower, which swirled and spiralled, feeding on the hay and growing larger, flooding the space with heat, light and smoke. 

Knowing he had two opponents to deal with, Rat leapt at the male, the nearest of the two Luperci, who was still transfixed by the flames, only seeing Rat at the last moment, and stumbling backwards.  Rat knew then, that this pack Luperci was no fighter, and the killing blow would be easy.  Rat snarled and went for the quick kill, but was foiled by a panicking horse, which burst from the stall, the stall the other male had stumbled into.  Rat leapt in after the golden eyed male, losing sight of the female for the time being.
Remy’s brain banged against his body, demanding action, but in that split second, Remy knew this was a loner, and the days he’d almost been kidnapped, the fight for Luci.  He knew what this loner was here to do and in an instant he saw his life go up in smoke.  The loner demanded quiet, and Remy wondered who he was talking to.  His eyes glanced back, and he saw Rafa, his big sister, his family.  The desire to protect his family finally unfroze his limbs, just in time to watch the bail of hay go up in flames. 

”Rafa ru-“ Remy began, but the stranger was leaping at him, and was that a knife? Where had that come from.  Remy tried to dodge, but the loner re-adjusted.  There was a scream of fear from the stalls and the gelding burst from inside, knocking Remy and the stranger apart.  Off balance, Remy staggering backwards into the stall, and the loner, his gaze unnervingly steady, sprang after him. 

Lashing out, and fighting with the desperation of an amateur, Remy did his best to keep the pale pelted stranger at bay.  He was wracking his brain, doing his best to remember the self-defence lessons he’d been given, but the smell of the fire and the determined look in the other’s eyes meant his brain was jelly.  Remy was afraid.  Afraid for his family.  Afraid for the animals and afraid for his life.  Perhaps if this had been a story, Remy would have laughed and thought of some clever quip to throw at his attacker, while fending him off with one hand.  Unfortunately, Remy was no hero, he was just desperately trying to keep a maniac at bay, knowing that all the other needed was a lucky strike. 

The space was too tight, there wasn’t enough room to move, and no matter how much distance Remy tried to make between the both of them, the stranger kept closing in.  That’s when it happened.  Remy was so focused on his attacker, he wasn’t aware of his surroundings, and as he stepped back he knocked his head into one of the protruding beams they could hang stuff off of.  The strike hadn’t been hard enough to crack his head, but it was enough to stun him, and send the world lurching, as he toppled the stranger followed and Remy felt warmth oozing from his chest and his ribs hurt.  The world swam, when he tried to raise his head off of the floor, and Remy watched the attacker run out of the stall before he passed out.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

Rafaela could have been on the other side of the world for all the good it did her to prevent the stranger's assault.

As rapidly as the ensuing activity erupted, it felt as though she were being stymied by some unseen, unfelt force that was holding her back, slowing her down, rooting her in place. She watched as the torch left the man's hand, her wide eyes following its arc through the air until it disappeared in an open stall. A stall no doubt littered with straw or feed -- the perfect kindling.

A beat later, her own spell was broken. She dropped her pails as the assailant charged Remy, the sound of the bottoms hitting the dirt floor muffled by the scream of a horse, and began forward. But the smell of smoke began to lace the air and she skidded to a stop.

"Remy!" she roared but her mind urged her to go back, to collect the pails, to put out the fire. "Fuck!"

Remy would have to wait.

Filled to their brims, the pails were difficult to run with if she meant to have any water left to douse the flames. She moved awkwardly, her eyes on the flickering glow of flames while her ears sought out evidence that Remy was holding his own. Smoke filled her nose. Smoke and terror and the sharp, metallic tang of blood.

Rafa pushed against every instinct ignited within her and, turning her back to her brother's plight, she faced the flames.

Fire had begun to lick the sides of the stall, blackening the wood and threatening to catch. Releasing one pail to wait at her feet, Rafaela splashed the contents of the other over the flames. The water sizzled and spat against the heat of the fire. The sudden cloud of smoke choked her. She coughed and wheezed, tossing the empty pail aside to pick up the other. A sting of pain flashed over her forearm, followed by the stink of singed fur, but adrenaline allowed her to ignore it.

After dumping the rest of the water over the flames, she turned, frantic, searching for anything else to keep the flames subdued. Crumpled on the floor, just outside the stall, was a horse blanket that the gelding, in his distress, had dropped when he ran. She reached for it, ignoring the splinters of discomfort that crawled across her skin as she did, and began to pat what remained of the fire with the woolen blanket before scattering the embers.

Satisfied that the flames were sufficiently out, Rafaela picked up one of the pails, her knuckles sharp for how tightly she gripped the handle, and rose to face Remy's fate.

"Remy! Remy, where-" She stopped abruptly, her eyes falling on the patched stranger as he fled from a stall. "You! Where is he? What the fuck did you do to him?" Her eyes were wild, dangerous, and she bared her teeth in unbridled hostility.

Small as she was, Rafaela Tejada was tenacious and she was prepared to fight like the devil.

[WC -- 513]

Rat saw weakness in the golden eyed male.  His entire life, Rat had been smaller than other Luperci, and he’d experienced first-hand how those Luperci had used their size and strength as instruments to bludgeon their opponents.  This other male had the reach, but Rat clearly saw there was no skill there, simply frantic defence.  Perhaps if Rat had more time, he might have toyed with the fool, but there were far more urgent things that needed to be addressed.  There was still the female he’d seen, if she alerted the pack too soon, Pirate would not be pleased.

Rat snorted with laughter as he watched the idiot male, lose the fight by braining himself.  Like any good crewmate, Rat did not hesitate to use the moment of weakness and struck out, slashing a gash across the other’s chest.  A killing blow would have been more decisive, but Rat needed to deal with the remaining female, and the green eyed male knew that the flames would deal with this one.  So, Rat turned and left the stable looking to finish this task and move on.

The smell of smoke, wet smoke, filled his muzzle, and his eyes landed on the female, the adjoining scent of singed fur making it clear she’d managed to dampen the flames.  His hackles rose, that wasn’t meant to happen.

”No!” he cursed through gritted teeth.

The voices began screaming once again.  Failure! Weak! Pathetic!

”Shut up!” Rat hissed, closing his eyes for a moment and putting his free hand to his head.  The voices paid him little noticed, but they quieted to a more bearable level, and he opened his eyes again to the female and her bared teeth.  She was asking after the other male? Remy?  There was concern there, Rat glanced back into the stall, could he use the unconscious male to make control the female?  Anger made people foolish, this female was already angry but...Rat grinned wickedly at her.

”He’s dead!” Rat flicked his knife, blood droplets spattering to the ground, as if to emphasise his point. 

It was interesting to find a Luperci shorter than himself, and if there had been more time Rat would have admired the large ears and fine features of this female.  In truth he did not hate this pack, or these Luperci, but Pirate had given him orders, and carrying out those orders was more important than anything, So Rat met her snarl with one of his own.  With the grace of one practiced at balancing on the taffrail or up I the mast, Rat sprang forwards.  He knew what he needed to do, use a flurry of strikes with the knife to put this female of balance, striking quickly at her torso, her arms and shoulder, before watching her attempting to protect herself, he’d then go for a slash, something deep that would end the encounter quickly.  Once that was done, Rat would get the fire started again…somehow, and continue his mission.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

"Fuck you!" she barked back, mistaking the target of his demand for silence. "Remy!" This she howled louder, both out of spite and a rapidly burgeoning sense of concern. She flicked her eyes toward the stall the loner had vacated but movement from the intruder instantly reclaimed her attention.

She didn't have to look to know what was on the knife's edge; what blossomed, cooling fast, in the dirt on the ground. Despite the caustic sting of smoke and ash in her nose, the smell of Remy's blood was pervasive. She bristled visibly and snarled, clicking her fangs.

"You better fucking hope he ain't," she growled, the sound like thunder in her throat. It was deep. Dangerous. "Because I swear to God, you yellow-bellied cur, there ain't a place you can hide we won't find you and there ain't a goddamn Luperci alive can save you."

Even if she didn't survive, even if the stables burned to the ground and their animals all perished, she had grown to understand the resiliency of the Del Cenere Gang. From an old, distant coyote clan and an assortment of fugitives, refugees, and vagrants, their people had risen from the ashes of their former lives and established something anew. Whoever made it out of this raid would surely enact retribution of those lost, and they would do so tirelessly. She had seen it time and time again.

"Ashen" was not a hollow moniker.

With a snarl, he attacked. The knife in his hand cut through the air, sending more of her brother's precious blood from its sharp edge. Rather than leap forward to meet him, Rafaela stepped back. She was not a skilled fighter, but she knew the damage knives could do and instinct drove her to stay away from it. But her assailant was fast and seemingly tireless, slashing and stabbing in rapid successions that Rafa was finding harder and harder to avoid.

A blossoming of something (Pain? Surprise? Terror? It was difficult to tell under so much stimulation) opened up within her when his knife made contact, slicing the flesh of shoulder before cutting across to nick her collar bone. Filled with ire and fear and wild abandon, Rafaela screamed and finally went in for the offensive. Lurching forward, she brought her arm around, the solid wooden pail sailing through the air as she did. She didn't know if she hit him. She didn't know if his knife got her again. All she knew was that she could still move and she still had the pail and was going to swing it, over and over, until the fight was over. One way or the other.

[WC -- 455]

Now Rat felt more in his element.  He saw the anger in this female, and her disgust.  These were emotions Rat could recognise and understand.  If the fire were still burning the power and intensity of the female’s emotion would have outshone it all.  When had Rat not come across someone who looked upon him with contempt? The world was full of it, and time and time again, the scruffy male had won, risen beyond it, and this is what he would do here.

His attack was unrelenting, and like so many, when faced with Rat’s ferocity, they all retreated.  Again, Rat’s opponent was not a skilled fighter, but despite her inexperience, this female was far more dangerous than her pack mate.  Anger fuelled her, giving her strength and a beginner was always capable of a lucky blow. 

Rat felt his knife meet resistance for just a moment, and then the scent of blood blossomed in the air again.  The male’s hackles rose in delight, and he shivered, though his timing was put off, just slightly, by the blad nicking the female’s bone.  In a blink, Rat had compensated and once again lunged forward.  That was when the beginner’s luck overtook the Calloway’s skill.  His leap brought Rat inline with the Pail, a heavy thing which was unwieldy, but if it did connect, the target wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

Rat squatted on the crossbeam of the foremast, high above the squabbling and removed from those who could hurt him.  Wind curled around him, tagging at his mane, and salt spray filled his muzzle.  The wind was strong, and they moved so fast, with the ship at full sail.  The swaying and rolling of the ship was a familiar thing, and Rat could tell the ship was content.  A drop hit his muzzle, and Rat looked up.  The sky was clear, and yet another one hit his muzzle.  Reaching to wipe it away, the scruffy male saw his hand was smeared with blood, more terrifying, the whole world began to tilt, and he was falling, the white sail coming up to meet him.  The canvas grew larger, taking up all of his vision, so all he could see was white.

Rat was on his knees, his ears ringing so loudly that all the voices were drowned out.  As the world came back into focus Rat saw his knife on the floor.  Why wasn’t it in his hand?  He moved to reach for it, but his limbs were like jelly and the world lurched.  He collapsed to the ground.  He snorted out a gob of blood, the side of his head aching horribly, and he was vaguely aware of it already bruising.  Rat’s eyes, still slightly unfocused managed to find the female.  She was still looking at him, but had grown a lot taller, something Rat found incredibly funny and laughed at.  She was talking, but Rat couldn’t hear her, the ringing was still too loud.  The world lurched again, and the scruffy male felt the stables become distant as he succumbed to unconsciousness.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

The pail made contact with a deep, hollow clunk that sent vibrations up her arm. She ignored it and sliced out with her opposite hand, claws tearing through air, blind to where she was aiming. She was still ululating and the terrible, barbaric sounds erupting from her throat were joined with the screams of distressed livestock, resulting in a haunting, discordant canticle of terror and agony and rage. It reverberated from within the stables and compelled her to keep up her assault. Even after the scruffy stranger dropped to the earth, it took Rafaela several beats before she recognized that her fury had won out.

Disarmed and dazed, the man was on his knees and bleeding and Rafa snarled at him, saliva and blood from the laceration on her shoulder splattering. She sent the pail down again only to discover that it had broken at some point during the attack. So she tossed the handle at him and descended upon him with fists and elbows and knees, indiscriminately making contact with any piece of his body that she could find until he stopped moving.

"You fuckin think... you can come here and... fuck with us... fuck with our horses... fuck with our people... and win?" she panted, growled, hollered. Looming over him, Rafaela spat on him and scuffed the earthen floor with at foot, kicking dirt onto him for good measure.

Wiping her maw with the back of her unburned wrist, the Tejada woman sucked in a sob and retrieved a rope to tie the stranger with, binding his limbs to one another and making sure that the knots were extra tight. Only then did she turn to the stall where Remy had fallen.

She dropped to her knees when she saw him, blood pooled at the hollow of his throat and running from the back of his head. For several moments, she watched him, searching for life, until she crawled on her hands and knees to his side and shook him.

"Remy?" she croaked, her voice rough and cracked from smoke and vehemence. "Remy, wake up! Don't you do this to me. Don't you fuckin do this to me!"

[WC -- 362]

Remy was warm, and floated in darkness.  It wasn’t an oppressive darkness, but safe and secure.  In the distance there were sounds tugging at his ears, but they felt unimportant and very far away.  He felt sleepy, content and was in no hurry to go anywhere.  The golden eyed male wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed to make it here, but now that he was, he was happy to set up shop.  Unfortunately, it seemed others had different ideas.  Remy’s world jiggled and vibrated, and cracks of light appeared.  The slits widened and it felt so bright, but there was a blotchy figure above. 

Remy’s golden eyes opened slowly, and for a moment his pupils were large and unfocused, but by degree they focused on Rafa, Remy’s mouth opening, but all that came out was a sigh.  The golden eyed youth suddenly felt very heavy and tired.  Distantly he noted that his chest and head ached, but even that wasn’t enough to fully draw him from his stupor.

”Rafa.” Remy breathed, exhaustion in his tone, mixed with confusion. ”It’s too early, not gonna train right now, come back later.” Blessedly his eyes began to close, and he prepared to drift into a sleep, but Rafa was pretty insistent and she shook him again, go so far as to pull him up into a sitting position. 

”What’s going on?” Remy asked, a little more confusion being dispelled as he looked around and realised he was in the stables. ”What?-“

As Remy began to ask the question a little more memory began trickling back.  Tiredly he looked his big sis up and down, noting the blood and burns on her.

”Your hurt!” Remy said, his voice still thick with exhaustion, but with far more coherence than only a moment before. Panic gripped him at the thought of family hurt. ”We…we gotta get y’ sorted out.” He said, trying and failing to get to his feet, the stall spinning wildly as he tried.  He sat down hard and wondered if he should try and shift, bur right this minute he was struggling to keep his last meal from making an appearance. 

”Jus…Jus’ give me a sec, feeling a little….woooo! he said dizzily, throwing a hand in the air and realising that despite his light-headedness, his limbs felt heavy.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

Too slowly, she was finally able to draw Remy's consciousness back to the surface. She bit back a sob when his eyelids fluttered open, revealing their pale golden hue she had come to to know and love. He wasn't right though. His movements were sluggish and there was a certain weight and viscosity to his words that worried Rafa. But at least he was talking. At least he was awake.

"Remy. No, we ain't trainin'. It's night still an-" His eyes were already closing and, at a loss for anything better to do, Rafaela began to shake him awake again. "Remy, goddammit, stay awake!"

Using what strength she had left, the smaller coyote wrestled her adopted brother's body until his back was against the wall of the stall and he was sitting upright. That seemed to help, or maybe it was all the cussing she was doing combined with the jostling of his body, because when Remy came to the next time, he seemed more aware that something was wrong.

Exhausted and in pain, Rafaela sat roughly back against the adjacent wall with a groan and leaned against it a while, panting. The pain from the knife wounds were manageable. But the burns -- that was a kind of torment she had never experienced before and hoped to never again feel in all her life.

"Ambushed," she said briefly. "One o' Calloway's scumbags. No- Remy, don't-!" But he was already scrambling to his feet. Rafaela started forward, but her reaction time was sluggish and Remy was already slumping back down before she could make him sit.

She watched him a moment, sharp green eyes making sure he wasn't going to pass out again, and then pointed out his own injuries with a tired gesture of her unburned arm.

"You ain't so hot yourself, Rem," she hissed, pain and fear and exhaustion making her ornery. "Knocked your head good, I reckon. An' he must've got you with his knife." Rafa touched her own chest where she thought Remy's was injured. "I'm fine. Just... Lemme just rest here a moment then I'll get us some help."

Leaning her head back against the wall, she pulled a leg up to her body and rested her burned arm gently atop the apex of her knee. And then she paused and panted and allowed herself a moment to process and think through her next steps.

[WC -- 412]

As consciousness settled itself back on Remy, and with Rafa’s explanations, Remy’s befuddled mind began fitting the pieces back in place.  Although, right now, everything had a dreamy quality, but at least he was getting a grasp on the situation.  When Rafa tapped her chest though, it took the golden eyed male a little longer than it should to realise she was referring to him.  He shifted, the gash dribbling blood as the wound cracked and split, and he winced.  Scooting the short distance, Remy slumped beside his sister.

”Woah.” he exclaimed as the world rocked, not as badly as only a moment ago, but the stable never usually rocked like that. 

From this vantage point though, Remy could smell the burnt hair and see Rafa’s wounds more easily.  He was dismayed that she’d been hurt at all.  Remy’s brow furrowed in concentration and there were sluggish sparks of anger firing there as well.

”We need t’ get y’ arm in water…the trough, needs t’ cool it down.  The water in the trough should be fresh.”

There were still questions spinning around in his head.  The most urgent of which was, how’d Rafa managed to get burned?  That question though, was overtaken by another, and Remy started as he thought of it, realising he was such an idiot.

”What happened to the knife guy?” Remy almost tried to rise again, but his mind, a little more engaged now, though incredibly tired, managed to prod him and let him know that if the Luperci with the knife had still been around, then he’d doubt that Rafa would just wander in and sit down.

”I ain’t a good ‘nough healer t’ deal with y’ burn though.  We gotta get y’ t’ a medic.”

Remy wasn’t sure how up to walking he was, and he definitely didn’t expect Rafa to try and support him.  They were surrounded by horses of course, though riding would probably be a stupid idea as well.

”Not sure my head’s right just now, and don’ think I’m gonna be walkin’ anywhere too quick.  We could get a couple of planks a some long rope and get one o’ the horses t’ pull us along.  Wouldn’t be quick, or pretty, but it’d get us out.”

The solution might not have been the most effective or the most ideal, but given Remy felt as though his head was wrapped in cotton wool, he hoped some slack would be cut.
Location: Lancaster Stockyard || NPCs: -- || Form: Optime

The stable smelled terribly of fear and smoke and blood. But it was the putrid stench of singed fur and scorched flesh emitting from her own body that made her stomach turn. Still panting heavily in the thick air, Rafa turned an ear to Remy and listened as he processed the events aloud. The pain in her arm made her short in both patience and temper.

"Remy, for chrissakes, would ya just sit a moment?" she snarled, more harshly than she meant. Then, angry at herself how for being upset with Remy, Rafa knocked the back of her head hard against the board behind her and shouted. "Fuck!"

One of the horses knocked a hoof against its stall walls and another issued a shrill, plaintive whinny. Closing her eyes, Rafaela kept her head pushed up against the board and breathed heavily against the myriad feelings that were pecking incessantly away at her sanity. After several moments, she pulled in a deep breath and released it again at length.

"Sorry, Rem," she croaked, her voice rough and cracked. "Ain't mad at you. Jest that this whole thing is fucked an' I'm fit t' be tied."

Rafa glanced at her adoptive brother but did not meet his eyes for long, feeling ashamed for her outburst. Instead, she turned toward the direction she had left the bound intruder and gestured at him with her head.

"Got 'im tied good an' tight over yonder. He ain't goin' nowhere fast." In thinking of him again, the anger in Rafa's heart bloomed anew and she thought that she should've muzzled him for good measure. "He gone an' tried to set the stable on fire 'fore roughin' you up." She lifted her burned arm gingerly. "Sorry I ain't helped you fight 'im off but I had t' put th' fire out first."

She thought that he would understand. She hoped he would understand.

"Awright," she said, mostly to herself, and then began to rise to her feet with effort. "Th' horses are too anxious on account of th' fire an' such; they ain't gonna listen worth a damn." On her feet now, she held her arm out away from her body for fear of catching it on anything and listened a moment. "Jest stay here an' don' move, awright? I'm gonna go an' get us some help."

Despite her aches and the throbbing of her burned arm, she was still able-bodied enough to do that much. With a final look at Remy, Rafaela shuffled out of the stall, kicked dirt on the prone and unconscious intruder to make herself feel a little better, and then started out of the stables for help.

[WC -- 454]
OOC: We could probably wrap this up with your next reply! c:

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