How to save a life

Alaine Winters · 04-10-2010, 12:57 PM

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table © Alaine
ooc: title is from a song by the fray. was listening to it just now XD
sorry for the monster post. 500+

The streets were long and windy, glossy wet cobblestones reflecting the light like great silver scales on the back of a long, winding serpent. The heavens above growled lonesomely, releasing a soft film of rain to patter on the hard, crumbling surfaces of Halifax.

The woman in the red cloak walked briskly. From beneath the crimson hood, vibrant emerald eyes peered through the increasingly heavy droplets, coveted by a slender scowl. What misfortune, to have such weather today of all days! The healer scoffed in a disgruntled manner, the claws on her footpaws clicking harshly against the concrete and stone. Shuttered windows and gaping doorways haunted her with their imaginary expressions, and trying to ignore the prickle of her nape, Alaine picked up her pace. The leather satchel that hung at her hip bumped merrily there, it's weight some reassurance to the young Optime's growing unease. She knew, almost as well as any, that Halifax was not a safe place to be.

But alas, she'd had no option! For only here, amidst these old groaning buildings and chaotic signs of previous civilization, could she find the rarest of medicines with which to restock. Old places such as this always seemed to have, preserved within their tomb-like structures, little bottles of this and that which she could use to far greater effect than nearly any potion of broth. Although Alaine did not know how to read, she had memorized the strange scribble used to signify various different tonics. Particular alcohols were also very useful in aiding doctoring procedures, and should she come across any of those, they would also be accumulated within the depths of that little leather bag.

The sky overhead gave one final grumble, before spilling rain in a more torrential bask upon the earth below. Huddling within her water-proofed cloak, the collie-woman immediately sought out shelter. She'd wandered relatively far from the Cour des Miracles' pack lands, and had earlier this morning already made her way through various bars and the like that might have concealed what she desired. But it seemed that anything that might have been of use had already been scavenged, and so the healer had ventured further towards the Northern end of the tired city.

Ahead, an open door caught her wandering gaze. Without hesitation Alaine practically ran forth, not stopping until she was within the doorway. The room in which she found herself was dark, and so she stood in the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust. A strange scent caught the young collie's attention, and feeling a further prickling of unease, she cleared her throat before addressing the silent building.

" Er... Hello? Pardon, but, is anyone in here?"

Her voice wavered slightly, the musical accent soft and exotic to what she commonly thought of as wolftongue, or the language of the majority of intelligent beasts in these lands. One ivory hand rose to brush the hood from her head, revealing brilliant copper curls that, still dripping with small crystals of water, danced about her wary expression.

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Jefferson Soul · 04-12-2010, 11:32 PM

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Good thing I went looking for this thread, else I would have forgotten you started one. XD

He had been back in Phoenix Valley not long before the brute was once again struck with a case of wanderlust. If he could remember nothing else of his childhood, Jefferson was aware that he'd definitely been one for traveling in his youth, long distances or short, and it was an ironic shame that with the loss of his foreleg due to that bitch of a mother bear he lost full capability to walk with comfort. Perhaps it was all for the better good, however; Jefferson's duties as a leader held him tight within the confines of his pack most of the time, and what little free time he got he did not wander too far away. The temptation of four strong, capable legs might have been too much for him, but with the removal of one of them and the intermittent sharp, tight pains that slipped through his muscles, the cyclops was more restricted to the lands where he lived.

He had gotten away, however, two-legged and moving despite the rain. It had never really bothered him, though pains in his bad arm seemed to be able to predict oncoming storms and the like. For whatever reason, that ache hadn't daunted him and Jefferson had left anyway as if the knowledge he learned about AniWaya had struck him with the need to learn more about the surrounding world. Perhaps it was Maluki shining through, perhaps it wasn't. Jefferson was not the creature he used to be.

The rain became progressively worse, however, and in a village of some sort he found it necessary to slow down and take shelter. The ache in his arm was horrendous, and as he moved along he noticed another soaked but delicate-looking figure in the rain, peering helplessly into an open door. Originally he'd planned to pass straight by her, but his tattered ears picked up her question from the street. What a strange, silly girl.

Jefferson stepped behind her soundlessly, his brute voice sudden and booming compared to the patter of the rain. "You know, the humans died out years ago," the cyclops said, typical frown on his wet, soggy face. That door was open, however, and its roof would stop the rain. It would suffice, if she moved.

Alaine Winters · 04-24-2010, 11:23 PM

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table © Alaine
ooc: blargh, sorry for the lateness! been a crazy few weeks :<

Her words hung, suspended in the silence, accompanied only by the constant beat of rain at her back and the gentle moan of a wind that wound through the crumbling buildings. For a moment, the hair on her nape prickled, the sense of eyes gazing into her back causing the young collie-woman to stiffen. Even as she thought to turn around, however, a gruff voice had dispelled the gloomy quiet.

"Oh!"

At this, the young healer whipped around, her emerald eyes wide with sudden fear. In the rain, a dark, tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped towards her. In the rain, his features melted together like running paint, and all terrified jade gaze saw was a looming dark shadow, his voice a terribly husky growl. She blinked, a meek little rabbit caught beneath the shadow of a hawk's outspread wings, her blood-red cloak tossed about shivering form as if it too longed to flee. But to where? For he barred her escape outwards, and to run into the darkened room behind her would be to inadvertently trap herself! Her gaze focused on his grizzled maw, each word showing sharp ivory blades designed to rent helpless prey. How strange, that they would look so menacing, even in speech! Wait, speech? "... humans died out years ago,"...

"Y-yes, I knew that... O-of course I did."

Her musical tone shivered with both waves of fright and cold, but suddenly the beastly creature who had snuck up her appeared no more than a man, his one eye fastened upon her with a mixture of curiosity and... Pain? The healer in her could see that glazed look in one's face from a mile away! Her gaze then dipped to scan his body, noted the arm held tightly to his body. Then, further aware that the rain was now pelting down with much fury and that she stood, barring this stranger's shelter, a hot flush crept up to stain the smooth skin beneath her cheek-fur.

"I was just... I was checking that nobody lived here. I thought I smelt... Nevermind."

Still babbling, she moved further into the darkened room and out of his way, cautious to keep her gaze upon him. He didn't look maliciously, merely pained, but one could never be too certain...

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Jefferson Soul · 05-03-2010, 09:34 PM

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Yikes, me too!

He was used to open-mouth gapes and stares from strangers. He could understand their reactions; he probably would have done the same, had he not been so mellowed out by the things he'd seen and done. Jefferson was quite a sight to behold, really, and he was aware of it--the idiot was littered with scars of varying lengths and depths, and he only had one working eye and one fully functioning arm. Jefferson was on the tall side on top of it all, and he didn't exactly go out of his way to smile and seem social or friendly. No, he was just an ass, in both appearance and manner. He was okay with that.

But the reaction she got from this girl was a bit beyond his expectations. She turned and cowered from him like a cornered rabbit, but relaxed somewhat at his words. Jefferson hadn't asked to look the way he did--it was punishment for his crimes, regardless of whether he remembered them or was now, as a different person, still responsible for them. The Patriarch harrumphed and tipped his nose to her, a smile not quite reaching his face, but mild amusement somewhere beneath the surface. It was funny, even if he didn't laugh.

"Smelled what? Humans?" If that was the case, he highly doubted it was possible. Jefferson's body stiffened quickly; if a threat of some kind lurked within, she would run away with her tail between her legs if she was lucky enough to escape the enemy. He stepped forward thus, a hand on her shoulder as he brushed past, and moved into the center of the room. Senses keen and snout tipped to the air, he detected nothing but the washing scent of rain. Slowly, he turned to glance his glowing green rune over his shoulder. "...There's nothing in here. You might've seen a rat."

Alaine Winters · 05-08-2010, 07:06 AM

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table © Alaine
ooc: i think being busy is contageous Tongue

He was silent, still gazing at her, and Alaine felt a flush creep up her face in embarrassment. Was that a spark of amusement in his sharp emerald eye? If it was, it had extinguished as quickly as it had been lighted, and the towering stranger brushed past her. As his hand momentarily settled on her shoulder, the collie-woman froze, her owlish jade gaze lifting to the mammoth palm. But then he was gone again, surveying the inside of the room with a sharp quip about what she had smelled. Indignant pride welled within her, and the pixie-woman turned to face him, stepping away from the doorway.

" No, Sir, NOT humans. Something else."

Her musical tone was brisk, letting on how little she enjoyed being thusly teased. But if the man noticed, he didn't appear to care, continuing his speech without hesitation. Stiffening her spine defiantly, the young healer crinkled her nose at the stench again. There was certainly something about this room - Perhaps a smell that he was used to?

" You can't smell that? It smells like... Wet, rotting, something. I can't place it, but it's unlike anything I've ever smelt before."

Now it was her turn to brush past him, her jade gaze curious as it scanned the inside of the chamber. It seemed as if they were inside the downstairs section of some sort of shop - Its shelves were lined with various antiquities, peculiar object, and also signs of scavenging where things had been upturned as some previous Optime hand had reached past to grab something of interest. The whole room, although smelling of the rain outside, was also laden with dust. Getting close to one of the shelves to observe a peculiar glass bottle, Alaine got a quick whiff of the stuff, and ended up sneezing heavily. Mollified by her lack of discovery, she shrugged absently.

" ... Maybe, you are right, Sir." She turned to look at the scarred man once more, trying to sound casual, " I am Alaine Winters, by the way... A resident healer from the Cour des Miracles pack."

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Jefferson Soul · 05-17-2010, 10:56 AM

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She seemed rather small and fragile, easily jumped by his towering form. He was probably twice her size, after all, and the number of scars (doubled with his unhumored demeanor) didn't help to lower the intimidation factor. None of it was on purpose, however; he didn't choose to be the way he looked, but he chose to exist alongside it. She admitted that humans were not present, but without her agreement that it was only rats, Jefferson was left to wonder. What was it she'd seen or heard? Was it that overwhelming and unreal to freeze her in her steps, struck with curiosity? Clearly it didn't have the same effect on the scarred man. "What, then? Ghosts?" A smirk, hidden from her eyes.

He had started to pick up the irregular smell, however, not long before she began to speak of it. The girl brushed past him, his form stiff and unmoving, The stench was nothing pleasant nor familiar, yet did not set off any alarms in the cyclops' head. Jefferson had little experience with dead things, experienced only in being that who brought it. He breathed that terrible smell deep into his lungs without the slightest tinge in his features, flicked his ears, and shrugged. "Dead, molding rats," he muttered, scratching at his ass. "Take a look around, if you're so worried." He didn't say it aloud, but if danger were indeed present, she could consider him a worthy ally and guardian if the need arose.

Green eye observed her careless action and sneeze; he chuckled a little and rose a brow, entertained by her antics. What was she trying to accomplish? He sensed no danger there. "Didn't say I was right or wrong," the brute admitted, green eye wandering. "Jefferson, Phoenix Valley. A bit far for girls to be wandering by themselves, don't you think?" She certainly didn't look like she'd be skilled enough to protect herself in the chance of danger, but he chose not to admit that aloud. The smirk still set on his scarred features made evidence of his sarcasm; he was not sexist.

He crossed the creaking floorboards to peer into an adjoining room. Only dust seemed to occupy it, and nothing more of interest. "Looks like this place'll fall apart any minute. Might be rotting wood you're smelling."

Alaine Winters · 05-28-2010, 09:47 PM

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table © Alaine
ooc: late post :I

If she heard his little quip about ghosts, Alaine feigned ignorance, although perhaps the indignant look on her pixie face grew sharper, the lingering of those emerald eyes bolder on this stranger-of-a-man with his mauled up body and his cynical green gaze. Besides, dead, molding rats didn't seem like something she wanted to discover, so for now the young healer allowed her prickling sense of unease to be abandoned, focused instead on the tall man, for all her attention was worth. He seemed amused by her, the way belligerent sentinels were amused by the idiocies of pups, or the way superiors sniggered about the fallacies of their inferiors. She didn't like it, but was resigned to a politeness force-fed since birth. Besides, at least her wasn't some sort of serial killer... Right?

"Pleased to meet you, Mr Jefferson." Her chin tilted up indignantly, the 'girl' sniffed before continuing, "Isn't it a bit far for suspicious characters to wander, also?"

So maybe she wasn't great at thinking up comebacks, but Alaine would be damned if he'd think of her as some sort of airheaded fool. She'd come armed - In her little leather healer's pouch was a dagger. Sure, it was blunt beyond belief and suitable only for slicing the stubborn stems of whatever flora she found, but atleast it was something. She considered showing it to him now, but didn't dare provoke any more laughter on the brute's part. Her definition of a weapon was clearly very different to those of other individuals.

At his next statement, her narrowed gaze shot to the ceiling with a gullible thrill of fear. Might collapse any minute?! By gosh, they were standing in the damned thing! Surely he was kidding - The building had looked sturdy enough from the outside. Shifting her weight uneasily from foot to foot, the pretty young healer found herself craving the open halls of the Chien Hotel, however dank and grumbly they were. She needed something to distract her mind, something to dull the paranoia of this place.

Her eyes fixed on his bandaged arm. The memory of his wince and the pained look of his eyes returned, blissfully.

"If you don't mind me inquiring, Sir... But what happened to your arm?"

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Jefferson Soul · 06-11-2010, 07:16 PM

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Suspicious characters like he? He had to laugh; the hearty, brief burst came from the depths of his chest and were stifled quickly. His green eye glittered with amusement and a smirk crossed his scarred and torn features. Even with that leak of delight—something he released all too little, but had no regrets hiding—he was still a terrifying thing to those who didn't know better. Jefferson could have said he fought a thousand wars and the ignorant would have believed him, biased due to his appearance. "Suspicious characters aren't 'misters,'" he muttered, amusement lingering in his voice. "Jefferson, just Jefferson, and I go where I want." That was basically it.

It wasn't often he was queried on his arm or what exactly caused the countless cuts and bruises on his body. Many simply observed in a funny, stunned silence; others chose to ignore it or look past it, believing questions might bring up sore memories or release a breaking point in the unpredictable Patriarch that would unleash some inner fury many strangely thought he had. "Bear," he said, now devoid of prior amusement. Green eye wandered as he stepped about, nose itching from dust in the air. "Cubs thought it was funny to try playing with me; their mother, not so much." The limp, the eternal sting in his leg, the ache accompanying oncoming rainclouds—it was not his fault, much unlike the rest of his scars. The loss of his eye, as well as the fights and attacks that resulted in the majority of his torn skin and fur, he had no recollection of whatsoever. "Don't fuck with them," he grumbled finally, sour.

Alaine Winters · 07-03-2010, 10:30 AM

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table © Alaine
ooc: Well, I suck :V

His laugh caught her off guard. The giant yawning of those sharp ivory teeth, the baritone rumble of masculine humor, the genuine sparkle of amusement in what she had observed to be a rather stern face. Unsure of whether to be afraid, insulted or mollified, the young collie-woman settled with an obscure mixture of all three.

" Alright, just Jefferson, whatever you say." She muttered in return, watching him warily with her owlish emerald eyes. She didn't trust him enough to poke him with a long stick, but the older male intrigued the healer, and she didn't want to anger him. No matter how tranquil a stranger appeared, there was no way to tell for sure what was going on beneath their face, and Jefferson's face was by no means winning him any points in the trustworthy opinion.

It seemed that her questioning his arm struck a raw nerve. The male immediately withdrew emotionally, a grumble warning her of his change in mood. The healer's ivory fingers flickered over her medicine pouch much alike a cowboy waiting for the signal to draw. The dangerous vibes from this guy were strong, but for the time being, they didn't seem to sway in her direction. Listening to his tale in silence, the generally meek-natured lady flinched slightly at his cuss, but managed a nod.

" You'll excuse me for saying, Sir- Erm, Jefferson - but I imagine that if I saw you playing with my pup unannounced, I might feel likewise inclined." She stated bluntly, but softly, not a trace of goading in her lilting, accented tone. Peering at his rough bandage, soaked through with the rain, Alaine tucked a dripping auburn curl out of her face before asking: " What sort of treatment does your pack's healer give you for the pain? I don't mean to pry, but... Professional interest, you might call it."

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Jefferson Soul · 07-08-2010, 09:11 PM

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Had she not understood? Jefferson turned his green eye on her slowly, a cutting knife in his one-eyed gaze; did she find his handicap humorous, perhaps, that she sided with the goddamned bear and her goddamned rats for children? The cyclops hardly appreciated it at all, a burning fire sparking in his stomach, but he recognized the girl meant no real harm by the foolish comment. He swallowed a lump in his throat that correspondingly swallowed a shout dying to be released. "They decided to play with me, madam," he said, tone gravelly as his chest burnt and boiled. "I stood still. They bit at my ears and crawled on me, and then their mother decided to do worse." He thinned his eye, a thousand more accusations running through his mind, but instead silenced himself by turning his pointed gaze elsewhere.

Jefferson came to realize that he had never asked for nor accepted help when it came to his injuries, especially his wounded arm. The scars there were permanent; the bear had tore his flesh and left him that way, and Jefferson had never sought to fix the pain that shot through when the limb was used. "Nothing," he grunted. "Nobody's done anything to this arm." He made no comment on the pain that plagued him there, but instead turned the sling away from her, as if in defense.

Alaine Winters · 07-08-2010, 11:10 PM

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table © Alaine
ooc:

She realised at once that her comment was a volatile accelerant to the fire of his anger, and the hand that hovered over her healers pouch twitched uncomfortable as that gravelly tone scraped her floppy charcoal ears warningly. However, the stately older male made no move to punish the healer's unruly actions, and after he spoke there was a short silence, her emerald eyes fastidiously wary as they watched for the aggression she expected.

It became apparent, however, that Jefferson must have had some sort of incredulous self-control. Either that, or he just didn't care enough to back up his words with harsh actions. The young collie-woman digressed - Perhaps he was used to dealing with pushy folk, or situations he disliked. Perhaps he was of a high ranking in his pack. She could not tell, and would not ask.

His grumbled reply caught her attention. It seemed a masculine thing to deny medical help for various wounds - She had witnessed enough to label many men as masochistic, coming to her only when the wound itself became infected and therefore twice as painful. But after a bear attack, to seek no relief from the pain? That was extraordinary, absurd, unnatural. Alaine was no psychologist, but there was surely something the matter with a man that seemed so secure in his own self-agony.

Partly because she was curious and partly because of her innate nature of healing, the collie-woman took a hesitant step forward, reaching out gingerly with one hand to gesture at the bandaged limb. " Would you mind if I... Had a look?" The question hung tentatively between them. She didn't want to push her luck.

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Jefferson Soul · 07-10-2010, 05:50 PM

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She offered to help him even after he had already turned away. Jefferson turned his eye over his shoulder, analyzing the girl as if searching for hidden motives, as if he had reason to fear her like he would fear being secretly poisoned. The leg he limped on, the arm across his chest in its sling—it summarized him, in a way, and had always been present at each and every meeting he had ever made. None had offered to help him before; it came across as a shock that someone had any desire to. He was a sinner, after all, and did not try to hide the fact. Perhaps the rest of the world agreed with it and let him be with his scars and pain, but this curly-haired stranger was... different.

He thinned his eye at her, searching for reasons against it. The handicap was too old, now; it was very unlikely there was any remedy to rid him of the permanent pain, but he had no reason to argue against trying. The arm was delicate, however, and the touch of it sometimes brought him to hissing. He knew barely anything about Alaine, who cowered like a rabbit at his every word, and yet he found himself pulled to entrust her somehow.

Jefferson turned, his scars scowling, and slowly pulled his arm from its sling. It hung rather limply at his side, all strength seeped from his muscles as always. The cyclops cast his cold gaze on her just long enough to silently give permission, and then it sank shamefully to the ground.

Alaine Winters · 07-17-2010, 10:40 PM

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No words passed between them now, and the silence was a tangible thing, strung tense as a bow-string knocked with arrow ready. The cyclops turned slowly, and his lime green eyes was full of chemical suspicion, habitual mistrust. Alaine could empathize with that, for her own acquaintance was a skittish thing, never relaxing, never totally submerged in the company of another. For a moment, they did nothing more than study each other, two colors of green meshing in comparable likeness of old wounds and old grievances. Then, surprisingly, the taller male shifted to remove his bandage.

His motion was the only permission she needed. The revealed limb made her suck in a breath of air, emerald eyes widening slightly. A familiar tingle shivered through her right arm; It too bore scars, deep enough that the damaged flesh had never re-knit, but not so hideous as to permanently hamper the movement of the appendage. This wound, however, was unlike any she'd witnessed. It was not so much a scar, but a railroad of scars; Twisted flesh turned hard and puckered, thin lines of silver tracing the angry red of exposed and damaged muscle. The arm itself appeared to have little to no muscle retention, and hung at his side, a dead thing. Her stomach turned slightly, but her composure remained clinical, always professional.

She knew, at once, there was nothing to be done that could heal the wound. It was too old, too severe. No medicine short of magic could repair the damage that had been done there. However, her hand rose slowly, ivory fingers outstretched, emerald gaze flitting nervously from the limb to Jefferson's face as though she were about to touch the bear itself. His gaze was stubbornly downcast, shadows drawn low over the male's face. Slowly, so slowly, she allowed her cold healer's fingers to touch the mangled flesh. There would be pain at any contact, and so she was careful, extra careful. And after the slight touch she withdrew, allowing her palms to fold into one another, two ivory doves.

His pain had to be unimaginable, constant, never relenting. Such tissue damage, without herbal aid to relieve the muscular stress, would have resulted in never-ending agony. Respect bloomed in her heart, directly aside the sympathetic confusion already there.

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Jefferson Soul · 07-26-2010, 01:27 PM

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Why had he allowed her so willingly? Jefferson dipped his head, his eyes to the creaking floorboards and considered it during her continued hesitance; he had met hundreds in his time as a leader, let alone his time as a member of a pack, yet so few had ever expressed interest in his scars and wounds. They had all gaped at the sight of him, as they always would, but so few had questioned what demons he had been plagued with that allowed him to live, a monster in and of himself. And yet he knew that if they asked he would blame it on fights and bears for their ears, but in his mind the blame lay on himself for the sins he had committed, a bodily retribution for the many lives he'd taken or traumatized forever. No amount of scars, no level of ungodly pain in a useless limb could give them back their lives.

Finally she reached for the tender skin and scars on his arm; the touch there was foreign and the useless muscles within jerked instinctively, but relaxed them quickly and allowed her to satisfy her curiosities. Not many had dared to ask, let alone touch, that scarred arm that seemed to now define him as a tamed ex-killer, now unable to fight in the ways he once had so brutishly. The scars of his face frowned, but at her touch his green eye eventually wandered back, shadowed, morose, listless. No words came to him, and no words came to her, and just as quickly as she reached for his wounds, she withdrew her hands and backed away. A horror lingered in her eyes that went unsaid, though he chose to read them as he assumed them to be: His arm, his useless scars, were beyond earthly medicine. He had known it all along, and yet Jefferson had allowed her to touch him and inspect. Why? Why had he chosen to hope, even so briefly, that perhaps there was still a chance he would be able to run again, to move without jerking limps and trips?

"I should go," he said finally, his voice grim. A shame lingered within it, but the sound was devoid of anger or resentment. She had done nothing to him, fixed nothing of his pain with her medicine, but he harbored no regret. The rain outside had quieted, diminished now to a slight drizzling mist, and Jefferson sauntered stiffly for the door, his shoulders hanging even as he assisted his arm back into its damp sling.

Alaine Winters · 07-30-2010, 09:37 AM

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He turned to watch her. She could feel it, that chemical lime eye, boring into her with it's brooding intensity. What did he seek to gain from looking askance at her face? Was she a living mirror to him, that he might see his own reflection better if it were judged by her own reaction? She was careful to hold in check the grimace that threatened to tear asunder calm composure, but the young woman was not trained in deceit enough to disguise the raw horror in her eyes. And she knew that he could see it there - Her gaze could not meet that of the cyclops, for fear of revealing herself, her verdict. Surely he knew by now that there could be no hope for that which had been mangled for so long.

She wondered, for an agonizing moment, what might have been if perhaps she'd the chance to treat that wound immediately after it being received. How much muscle tissue could she have saved? And for what - What kind of man had this Jefferson been in his past, such that he wished no more than everlasting agony upon himself? She mentally shied away from that prospect, not wishing to imagine what demons could possess an individual to so much self-loathing, such utter lack of respect for oneself.

He spoke, and his voice was brittle thorns, scraping against her waiting ears with its gravelly intensity. Her downcast eyes remained such, although they peeped up swiftly to catch his retreating back from beneath a thick curtain of lashes. He reached the door, and the grief for him finally loosened it's hold on her throat, such that she could croak a hasty " Wait!", before taking a few steps after him. She rummaged animatedly for a moment through that strange satchel of hers, the youthful energy cascading about her form such that auburn curls bounced merrily, floppy ears twitching to catch any reply of his own. Then, with a soft Aha! of success, the young healer pulled from her pouch a handful of scrawny-looking striped leaves.

" Jack-In-The-Pulpit. Grind it up and apply it to your, err... To the area. It might help." She knew the futility in her voice was obvious, but the young woman was a fighter, and her innate urge to heal the wounded meant that she could not simply allow him to wander back into reprieve. Nor was Alaine stupid - She knew full well that the male was unlikely to do any such thing (heck, he'd probably through the plant away once out of eyesight), but at least the effort had been made. At least, she might offer some sort of hope to a creature that appeared otherwise hopeless.

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Jefferson Soul · 08-01-2010, 09:05 PM

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Okay, closing this, and we gonna start a new one! Big Grin

The second he turned, a flurry of thoughts crowded his mind and blinded his gaze. It was unusual that he had allowed her so close, a complete stranger from a differing clan. Had he trusted her, perhaps, because she smelled so strongly of Cour des Miracles? Had he been subconsciously hopeful that somehow, anyhow, she had a connection to the son who hated him? Had she held conversations with Heath, known him as he grew older, befriended him? Had she, did she, know him as a honest creature and not the hateful, unforgiving being that refused to let his father learn anything else? Perhaps it was the gentleness she possessed, the innocence in her eyes, as if she had never known trauma and pain like he, as if she did not know the stain of killing and murder, of blood between fingers. She was delicate like a flower, beautiful, untouched. He was certain this was wrong, in the end—no soul in these lands didn't have a history of pain—but he envied the innocence she projected, for he projected none of it and never had.

Her voice cut through his thoughts, breaking the room back to silence like shattered glass. He peered wearily over his shoulder, green eye thinned, and turned only when she extended a handful of herbs at his chest. Medicine? No one had ever offered him such a thing; strangers only offered more and more questions, gaping stares, but never offers of assistance. He didn't want it, and yet he found himself baffled by the friendly extension. The girl barely knew him, and yet she offered her advice selflessly, even if he might not have taken it.

Jefferson's stomach lurched. He spoke nothing of the sensation, of the sickly feeling, but raised scarred fingers to delicately pluck the leaves from her palms. He held them to his eye, scowling briefly at their stripes, before delicately tucking them into the chest pocket of his flannel. A pause. "Thank you," he said finally, an unheard of appreciation in his tone. He allowed his eye to glance at her once more and nodded, a slight smile cracking at his scars. "Say hello to Heath," he said quietly, then stopped himself and redirected his words. "N-Not from me, but... just say hello."

And before she could ask, he brushed through the door and was gone.

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