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ooc- private | Setting: not far outside Inferni borders. Close enough to see the wolf skulls in the distance.
Almost crawling his way across the land, Cassius dragged his body slowly closer and closer to the Inferni borders. He was determined to get home. To tell someone what happened. His back ached and throbbed as the cuts and gashed bled more and more. His shirt was almost torn to shreds where the creamy monster had ravaged him. He never expected something like this to happen to him. He never expected an attack on him. Who would ever attack him? He was the only remotely benevolent coyote in Inferni, and with whoever he'd met, they all liked him. Whether it was for his "charm" or his rather unique skill set.
Tears pooled in his imperial eyes as the hybrid painfully pulled himself close to a river. His body finally collapsed on the waterside. He was so close to home, and yet it felt so damn far. His right arm was useless. He couldn't use it to help himself up. Cassius was practically stuck on the ground, unless one of his clan-mates found him. His arm had been nearly snapped in half, throbbing even though he did nothing with it. It hung limply at his side and it was just as useless as he was.
He figured he seemed to be a perfect target though. He was practically the only coyote without any fighting experience. His tiny knife hardly did anything against the blue eyed demon. He was outmuscled and outrun. Cassius had no chance then. He felt a new kind of respect for Kaena. He now knew the feeling of being so cruely violated. Stripped of pride and morale, having nothing left of himself. The demon gave him a fate truly worse than death, oh yes. Cassius certain would not, could not, forget it. It was forever branded in his memory for him to drag with him for the rest of his days.
Those blue eyes would haunt him for what seemed like an eternity. Every time he closed his eyes, those were all that stared back at him. He would never be able to get them out of his head. It was maddening to the coyote. Cass reached into the brook with his good hand and cupped some of the water in his palm. He tried to lift it up to his mouth, but then he started in a coughing fit, blood dripping slightly from his mouth. He couldn't lift his arms very high, which meant that his ribs were probably broken. He felt so useless. His now-torn shirt was basically dyed almost completely red on his backside. His hair was messy and dirty. His wounds still burned and flamed with pain. He felt like he wanted to die at this moment, just to stop the pain.
Slamming his fist into the ground, the southerner grunted to lift himself up. He needed to finish the journey back to the mansion. But as he tried to get his chest off the ground, a sharp pain rung throughout his body, causing him to cry out in pain. He slammed back on the ground as he let his body weight go. He needed some kind of medic now. He wasn't going to last long if he couldn't get himself healed up.
Word Count: 500+
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table © Alaine
ooc: hope this is okay! roll over text for translation xx
wc: 500+
There was something about the air today, something unsettling that graced her nape with unearthly prickles and made sharp emerald eyes all the more wary. The grounds she convoyed were vast and silent; no birds sang, no creatures rustled or stirred. A sense of terrible foreboding surrounded her, even as the collie-woman walked briskly, her footpaws silent on the tough hill-grass. Dappled light from various trees made the whole scene seem ephemeral - It was not until she saw the blood that Alaine knew, for certain, what havoc had happened here.
She could smell him, the blue-eyed one. Beelzebub afoot. Terror incarnate. But much as the ice slid thick in her veins, the scent of the killer was older, and she knew him to be gone from this area. However, the blood-scent was still rich, and she could see the dragged path his prey had taken. For a tremulous moment, Alaine considered turning back, running on heel - No life, especially the pure, was safe when the demon was around. But could she deny her own nature, that sense of duty to those that she might save? What if the prey had gotten away, as she herself had? Driven by this binding thought, the healer began to doggedly follow the blood-trail. In her Optime form, thick auburn curls bounced merrily about a contrastingly mirthless face - Wide emerald eyes were instead pinched with fear, the inward dread that around any corner she might find a horribly disfigured corps. She wore nothing other than a swollen leather satchel, the likes of which contained various healing equipment, and her gathering dagger in-hand. The blade was small and dull, but she'd sharpened it's edge on a piece of flint that very morning, before setting out.
A cry of pain from up ahead urged her on, and suddenly, there he was: A relatively small male, drenched in the vile rusty scent of his own blood, collapsed beside the babble of a sweet-flowing brook. She could tell that he was alive, but barely; more so, she could tell that it was not wolven blood that soiled the ground, but that of the horrendous coyotes, the nightmarish figures told in the tales of her homeland to curb wandering and rouge children. Alaine stood for a long while, far back enough from the collapsed figure that her identity would be completely concealed, even were he in a healthy frame of mind, and considered her options. The healer's gathering blade was shifted from palm to palm nervously. Even though the 'yote was of a small stature, her own canid blood made them roughly equal in height, perhaps he being taller than her still. But those wounds appeared somewhat mortal, and surely he had not the strength or the inclination to attack a lone female now?
Before she could chicken out, the beautiful collie-woman slunk forwards, her wary owlish gaze animated on the prone form. " Sir? I bid you, are you with the living? Can you hear me? Maith Dia, your wounds are terrible... I come to help you, in the name of peace." She spoke constantly as she approached, the foreigner's tone musical and accented, twisting the high-speech with lyrical gentleness to match the running lullaby of the brook. However, that dagger remained fixed in ivory hand, all muscles tensed to run should the 'yote prove still aggressive. "Dia have mercy, let him be alive... Sir? Sir?"
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ooc- homg I am so glad I got that new CD. I feel so much more museful for Cass <333
He could feel himself drift in and out of consciousness, trying so hard to keep himself among the living. His body felt weaker and weaker by the second. The time went by so slowly, a snail could easily outrun it in a race. Cass' body just lay, nearly lifeless by the creek, so close yet so far. It was frustrating, to want to move so bad but he was held back by his own body. The coyote felt like just letting go, not even caring for anyone else anymore. It felt so hard to hang on to what little he had left. To tell the truth, he felt quite suicidal at the moment. The Southerner was quite disappointed in himself as a person. To let himself stoop so low, it was embarrassing.
The hybrid could imagine his father standing over him, discouraged. He'd scold him on how incorrectly he was handling his life, giving some sort of life lesson speech, while not even bothering to help. Amos would tell him how he had to pick his own as he stood and whacked him with a cane, or spit on his body. He was fun when you did things right, but one wrong step and he was on you faster than a campus cop at a ghetto high school trying to bust a fight or a drug deal. Cassius could imagine the old 'yote's voice in his head even now. "...bid you, are you with the living? Can you hear me? Maith Dia, your wounds are terrible..." It seemed a litte different than he imagined. He expected a rougher, tougher voice. "Dia have mercy, let him be alive... Sir? Sir?" This time he heard... a woman's voice? It completely replaced his father.
He finally opened his eyes.
What he saw was a doggish female standing over his body. He still rocked with pain, but the presence of someone comforted him some. The brown hybrid let go of the knife he held, the woman seeming a little tense as she approached. He tried to look up at her, but his body shook with immense, flaming pain and he cried out. He breathed hard, trying to confront the hindrance that held him back so. Nodding, the flaring pain preventing him from speaking, the Aedile tried his best to look as harmless as possible. It wasn't likely that he would bite the hand that feeds, or rather the hand that heals in this case. Tears continued to stream from his eyes, uncontrollable and constant. He felt so weak and vulnerable, throwing him back to his childhood.
He wasn't as hardened as a child as he was now, even though that was so little compared to many. His cousin was a little more rough, a little more of a man than he was. Amos treated him like a son, even though he was just an uncle. However proud of Cassius he was, he never had a son he could relate to. Amos was more of a manly worker, not playing with trinkets and toys. When Brutus took up stone sculpting, Amos was proud. It was a job where he used his hands and muscles. He had to be fit. Cassius was... not so much. No one would ever realize it, but Cass had deep, hidden confidence (not to mention father) issues.
Word Count: 500+
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ooc: do you mind if i pp a bit in the next few posts? just while she's trying to heal him :3
wc: 500+
At the sound of her voice, the poor wrecked brute opened his eyes. They were of the lovelies lavender, marred as they were by the little red tracks of pain and the glossiness of agony. The Apothecary immediately noted that his pupils were dilated and unfocused, a sure sign of fainting and a weak consciousness. A slow ripple of muscle showed that the wounded fellow had released what appeared to be a small knife - Moving warily, Alaine edged about the prone body, inching forward till she could sweep the weapon out of the way. It was not that the young collie woman was of a cruel or aggressive nature, oh no - More, that fate had taught her to be ever mistrusting, especially of those in pain who were most likely to lash out.
Now that he was obviously unarmed, the healer relaxed slightly, her body crouching down a meter from that of the strewn 'yote. To her question, he had nodded bluntly, clearly being unable to do much more than loose sounds of pain. For a moment, the lady was bewildered, not sure where to start - His fur was matted with blood. Were there any fatal wounds underneath all that mess? What of broken bones? The examination would require her getting right up and close to the wounded male, putting herself in a potentially vulnerable position. His gender did the male no favors, for she'd far less trust in those of the other gender than those of her own.
The beautiful collie woman deliberated only a moment longer, her wary and concerned emerald eyes gracing the torn figure before her. It was her job to heal, and so heal she would regardless of pack, of gender, of history. He did not deserve to die this day, simply because she was afraid to put herself at risk once more.
Stowing away her own dagger in the pocket of her bulging healer's pack, the woman eased forward till she sat beside the unnamed male. One gentle ivory hand lifted up to his throat, pressing gently there, feeling for the flutter of a pulse while her eyes remained fixed upon his face. "Sir, I am a healer, cinnte? I will help. Do not fight it, or you will die." Her lyrical voice was calmly poetic, waves upon the ocean, clinical and soothing. The last thing she needed was a frantic and potentially dangerous creature such as he, deciding to turn on her mid-administrations. Hoping that the male could decipher the high-speech in her accent, the woman quickly turned her wandering emerald gaze to his bruised and battered body. The damage was severe, but she would have to feel her way around the bones, to see if any of them were broken. Although, even from initial glances, she could tell his arm was probably fractured, more likely broken. Ivory fingertips, already stained with his blood, began to rifle through her leather satchel, emerging with a strange frothy green liquid. It was only a slight hallucinogen, and she hoped that it might take away some of the pain, but probably not a lot. Alaine dared not give him stronger stuff for fear that it might push his broken body to oblivion. "Will you drink this, if I hold it to your mouth? Nod yes, sir. It will take away some of the pain."
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ooc- nope not at all PP AWAY MILADY
The woman was now clearly in his view. She had kicked away his dagger, and he did not blame her now. With his immense pain, anyone would attack for fear of being hurt further. Fearing for your life was not a crime, and Cassius accepted this. The woman put away her own weapon, and Cassius calmed further. She had a satchel, undoubtedly full of supplies. She seemed like she knew just what to do, but where to start? She deliberated, it seemed, over his body and overlooking his intense injuries. His wounds were bad, you did not have to be a doctor to see that. His back was torn asunder and his left arm was completely useless.
But Cassius did not discriminate against gender. Anyone and everyone was good at something, and whether or not it is a man or a woman does not matter. What matters is if the person has a real skill, and if they love doing what they do best. To Cass, that is what mattered. Not loving what you do was like not being happy with your life and right now, although he felt like killing himself, Cassius was in love with his life. It was the reason that he wanted to keep living, despite the back breaking pain.
His suspicions were happily confirmed, as the woman announced to him that she was a healer. He could feel her hands touch his throat, pressing for the Jugular that hid in his neck. His pulse beat and beat, not helping his cause by pumping blood out of his body through his wounds. "Do not fight it, or you will die." A morbid thought, but probably a true one in this case, the 'yote nodded to the statement, just wanting to get through this terrible time. This woman was nice enough to help, even though he was obviously from Inferni. Many packs were very negative towards Inferni coyotes. Cassius couldn't blame anyone, especially with most of Inferni's old members' running track records in the area.
The woman now reached into her bag, ignoring the fact that her hands were dipped in his blood. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty (although hopefully not too dirty) and he liked how she didn't flinch at the gore. She'd obviously seen blood and gashes before, and with that it meant experience. And experience was especially important. The collie woman finally pulled out a green liquid, contained in a flask. She explained how the liquid was supposed to dull the pain, and a few other things but all the Southerner heard was "dull the pain" and he was immediately sold.
He nodded as much as he could, expressing a need for the anesthetic, no matter how weak or strong it was. He would very much like a strong one though, like anyone would. He stuck his neck out to reach for the bottle, desperate for the effect of the liquid. He didn't care if he was numb only slightly, anything less was better than what he had now. He would probably still feel quite a bit of the pain, but just anything less sounded like heaven compared to this.
Word Count: 500+
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table © Alaine
ooc: thankee :3 let me know if there are any injuries i've left out! too much pp?
wc: 500+
The Apothecary could immediately see that she would have no issues with persuading this poor wreck to drink anything she offered. Some creatures fought the use of her potions and broths, fearing them to be the poisons they often-times were, but Alaine was always careful and measured with her use of the potent liquids. Besides, she could see that this fellow was in dire danger of slipping under due to pain alone, and so long as she could keep him teetering on the edge of that brink as opposed to plunging over it, then half of her work would be done. Shock was a great killer, and pain was usually pushing that shock forward. Cautiously, she held the flask to his seeking lips, allowing half the mixture to be swallow before pulling it firmly away. The broth would have had an unpleasantly bitter taste, but she doubted that the wounded 'yote would have noticed.
"Be still, let me see... Argh, maith Dia! So much to be done... Hold still!" Aware that any contact she made with his torn flesh would bring sharp points of agony, the woman was strict in her commands for him to remain as motionless as possible. If he thrashed or jerked, his injuries could be worsened. She cursed that he had had to drag himself - All the blood-seeping wounds were matted with bacterial filled dirt. There was only one way to be entirely sure that the bacteria had been removed, and that would be with a severe alcohol-rinsing, the pain associated with which would be surely unbearable. However, first things first - Alaine had to try and wash away some of that blood, so she could see what she was dealing with! Leveling an authoritative and professional emerald gaze upon the wounded man, her gentle fingertips fluttered over his chest and latched softly in the remaining shreds of material. And then, with an almighty pull, she ripped the blood-soaked material from him, cringing at the expected cries of pain. Immediately, the wounds that had been clogged by material began to bleed afresh, and the thick crimson fluid stained more of her ivory forearms.
Not bothering to ask for time was of the essence, the woman rose and stood behind his prone form. Her hands hooked beneath his arms and, knowing that it would surely cause great pain to his broken ribs and arm (although hopefully the broth might dull it somewhat), she pulled him into the shallows of the running brook, grunting with the effort. Although the man was a 'yote, her own size was much slimmer than his, and the effort of the lift and drag made her muscles scream. However, she didn't stop until he was resting against a large, smooth rock, propped up into a half-sitting position with the slow-moving water running over his legs. The clear liquid pooled with splashes of red blood and brown mud. Kneeling in the water beside him, Alaine busied herself by rinsing the open wounds to clear them of obvious dirt. Only then did she realize the magnitude of his injuries - The Apothecary listed them in her head, in order of what she would need to address first: Severe gashes on back and over ribs, less severe cuts on arms and lower legs (possibly caused by dragging himself), a broken fibula and possibly tibia in his left arm, the likelihood of one or more broken ribs, and what could turn out to be a pretty severe case of head trauma.
"Lean forward, if you can - I need to clean your back." As before, her voice was cool and calming, even though her mind was whirring at a hundred miles an hour. She needed him to remain relatively calm, for even in this state, there was a chance he could overwhelm her if he tried. As she washed gingerly at the stranger's raw and bleeding back, the woman began to speak again, this time trying to distract him from the pain. "Tell me, what is your name? Do you recall who you are? Nod, if you cannot speak." Alaine prayed that he wasn't suffering from amnesia.
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ooc- NOPERS
The taste mattered little compared to the wait for the comfort of the pain numbing serum. Cass just wanted to be free of this now, no matter if he slipped out of consciousness. The pain beat him constantly. The suffering needed to stop. The bitter taste was like chocolate in his mouth, or at least the pain made it seem so. She brought the flask away from his mouth, but the coyote still pressed for the liquid, as if drinking more will make it work faster and better. It probably would, but the risk was too great as it seemed to the healer, and she put the flask aside. The collie woman continued to work on his wounds as he sat, waiting for at least a little of the pain to subside.
He could hear her shouts of frustration, as he was quite a case. Cassius could see that much. Literally, as the blood still flowed from his wounds. He was bleeding out quite a bit, but as the woman began to work on him, the pain began to spike in places where she touched. The Southerner hissed sharply, but he never reacted to much, as to obey the healer's commands. She moved her fingers over his chest, and the hybrid looked down to see what exactly she was trying to do. A bad idea as it turns out, and he saw her clutch his tattered shirt and rip it off his body with a vengeance. He cried out loudly but quickly, as he bit his lip to silence the scream. More tears streamed from his eyes as he dealt with more pain. He could see more blood pouring from freshly cleared wounds, the blood leaking onto the woman.
He could hear her stand up, and walk around his body. Cassius was ready for whatever hell he would have to go through. It was better than suffering for longer if his wounds weren't treated. When she slid her arms under his, he could already anticipate and feel the pain that would ring through his body. His body trembled under the immense torture, but the collie was suffering under carrying his greater weight. At least I ain't the only one suffering, he thought. It was sort of cruel, but any pick-me-up was pretty much useful here. The Aedile was propped upon a large rock, the cool comfortable water running over his legs.
Focusing on the fact of that the water felt pretty damn good on his legs right now, he could feel the effects of the liquid start to set in. He heard her voice, asking him to lean forward if possible. His current state of euphoria (although it wasn't as complete as Cass would like it to be) caused her voice to be a little muffled, but he understood, and he leaned his chest towards his legs as she asked. Only then did he feel immense pressure and some pain. It was a surprise to him, not as much pain being sent to his brain. It was a very comfortable change of pace for the Infernian.
She then asked, as she treated his dirty wounds, if he could remember who he was. All he felt was immense pressure on his back, with little spikes of pain here and there as if someone was pushing very hard against it, so he was able to focus quite well on her voice. He breathed for a minute, trying to conjure up any strength to speak. "I-," he started, his breath catching short. "Cassius Arphralos, 'f 'Nferni... but y'all cin jus' call me Cass." He chuckled after he finished. His Cajun accent still rang true, no matter the pain he suffered. It was odd, that just a few short minutes ago he was crying in pain, and now he was... content. He didn't need to be happy, just content. Just the way he needed to be.
Word Count: 600+
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ooc: <3
wc: 500+
At her question, the Apothecary heard his breath catch, although that may have been due to the fact that she was prodding gingerly at the scars that striped bare his upper back and shoulder. The claw-tracks were viciously deep, curved cruel and raw at their red-tasseled edges, and Alaine knew that the flesh would take a long time to re-knit enough that he would have feasible use of the shoulder. However, the man's gravelly voice made her floppy ears perk, and immediately she moved to see his face. As he spoke (and what a delightful brogue, so pleasant compared to the dry tones of many high-speakers) the chocolate-hued fellow gulped in shallow breaths - Potential punctured lung, the healer thought briskly, her sharp emerald eyes noting the slight heaves for air. She'd have to look at that when she set his ribs.
"Pleasure be mine to meet you alive, Mr Cassius. I am Alaine." Her tone was pleasant but dry. He'd lost a lot of blood, and still the life-fluid continued to seep; Death, although held at bay, had been an inevitable opportunist mere moments before. Having finished her cleansing of his back, the blood-spattered collie-woman promptly crouched beside his head. Her dainty hands, once ivory but now a rather gruesome flesh-pink, tilted the 'yote's listless head up so she could look him in the eye. The other hand deftly pulled back at one gradually drooping eyelid, observing the round and dull pupil therein. Conscious he might be, but it was clear that the dual effects of blood loss and the hallucinogenic pain killer she had given him were taking their toll. He appeared to be in the drowsy states of shock, and Alaine was glad, knowing that at least now his immense pain would be alleviated. "I need you to focus on the sound of my voice, na bochtáin... Do not let yourself fall to sleeping, or I will have to wake you." And that would not be a pleasant experience for either of them surely, if she had to slap him back into consciousness.
Now that his wounds were clear of dirt, Alaine retrieved her leather pack from the side of the running brook, and settled it atop the rock on which Cassius slouched. She rummaged through it blindly, never allowing her eyes to be removed from the wounded's portrait, lest he faint and flop into the shallow but dangerous water. Retrieving a long-necked diamond clear bottle, in which sloshed a merry gold-hued liquid, Alaine crouched down beside the man again. The alcohol she held was potent stuff, and would kill any infections as well as she was able without the long-term maintenance of poultices. But it would surely sting like a total bitch on the raw slashes, in spite of the 'yote's drowsy state. "Sit still now, Mr Cassius. You're going to feel some more pain, but it will go away quickly, yes? Just sit still."
And, gritting her teeth against what would surely be some hectic cries of pain, Alaine began to tip the concentrated brew over the man's exposed back.
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ooc- gah I suck soooo much
The woman responded back to him, giving her own name. Alaine sounded like an odd name to him, but then again he never got around as much as many more had. In his experience, there were going to be a few odd names tossed around, especially with the many foreigners that inhabited the Nova Scotia area. Cotl was one, paired with his brother. There was one other American he had met before: Levi Donahue, but he only met the white Montana wolf once. Another member from out of the Northern American continent was Mkhai, one of Samael Lykoi's kids. He and his siblings were from Egypt, which seemed quite exotic compared to the predominant Eurasian foreigners.
Cassius barely noticed the pain he was in, as a result of the blood loss and painkiller euphoria combination. It was comfortable for him, but dangerous. He could fall asleep, she warned him, and so she would have to wake him up. In a very drowsy and disoriented state, he remained his focus on the collie woman, who continued to work on his extensive wounds. "I dun think I'll be fallin' 'sleep anytime soon 's long as I'ma talkin' to you," he chuckled in a fashion that resembled, to put it in layman's terms, completely shitfaced. He didn't realize it, but he was incidentally hitting on the poor woman, who was only trying to treat his wounds.
She continued to work on him, but he noticed little of it. His euphoric state caused him to be quite distracted, although he was still focused on the woman. Maybe not her face... but he was focused! His drunken-like state still damped the immense amounts of pain he would otherwise be drowned in. His imperial eyes were dull, a result of his rather lackluster condition. They were still peeled open, staring at the Apothecary. He watched her retreat back to her bag again, to fetch a rather interesting looking bottle. It was filled with a very wonderful looking liquid, golden hued and very delicious looking. He looked over to the bottle, finally distracted from the woman, his eyes squinting in interest.
She leaned to his face, explaining that he would feel some pain, but that it would go away quickly. To Cass at this point, he felt invincible. Little did he know, that the euphoric effects were very deceiving. Very much drugged, Cass groggily nodded his brown head up and down, his large ears still in a relaxed position. "Ma'am," he started, his words slurring as if they were liquid. "Y'all don't know how grud I feel nooooooow." He chuckled again, the high he was on felt like it would last him for a lifetime. However, that was about to change a little.
He saw the bottle gleam from the corner of his eye as Alaine tipped it over his back. In the mere seconds before he felt anything, he closed his eyes, expecting the liquid to feel like the cool water that flowed next to him. Instead, there was a waterfall of intense pain. His deep purple eyes began to widen and swell with a river of tears. The salty liquid pooled and flowed across his face, his eyes now sealed shut, trying to seal the pain from his brain. His mouth was wide open, pained and panicked screams emanating from his muzzle as the now feared liquid ran across his back and cause the terrible pain. The southerner tried his best not to move, which took all of his concentration and strength to do so. His brain was addled with mixed readings of pain that overpowered the feelings of euphoria quite quickly. He thought he was over the excruciating pain and terror. Apparently not.
However, true to her word the pain started to subside as the liquid ran out from the bottle. His eyes started to open again, as he was able to regain his strength once more. His screams died into pained breaths and grunt, to overcome the residual pain readings. Cassius' tears no longer flowed from his eyes, and he saw the collie's face again. The hybrid was now calmed a little more, and he panted, glad that the pain was now over. He shook his head slightly, the shaking fear still rattling his body.
Word Count: 700+
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ooc: n'awww, cass! sorry for the shotgun reply. i'm bored XD
wc: 500+
His words provoked a disapproving frown to darken the pixie-woman's face. She guessed by now that this poor shred was actually not much of a threat to her, certainly not now that the painkiller potion was fused in his blood, and his brain appeared to be resting on a cushion of hallucinogenic bliss. However, the fact that he was openly ogling her with that drunken smile (which she assumed would be rather handsome, were it not for the shitfaced expression), made the healer bristle slightly. She knew not to hold it against him, but perhaps she didn't object to the pouring of the alcohol over his open wounds as much as she rightly should. His howls of pain fell on relatively deaf ears, and the healer continued her administrations briskly, ignoring the poor fellow's tear-swollen gaze.
At least, she considered as she packed away the now empty bottle, he had enough remnants of good grace not to attempt to grope her as some imbeciles in the past had. Not that she was biased when it came to her healing talents, but lets just say that those sods woke with a killer headache that was not entirely necessary.
"You're doing very well, Sir. Just a little bit more, now..." Her exotic voice remained level, calm, and professional as she stopped to clean her hands in the slow-running water, returning ivory fur to it's previous splendor. The Apothecary then rifled through her leather pouch, emerging with a smaller olive-green bottle with a fat lid. Prying it off, Alaine dipped in her fingers, and revealed a sweet-smelling mint-green pulp. This would feel soothing against the raw cuts now, and she applied the cream daintily to the exposed flesh, slathering it on thickly to the larger wounds on his back and shoulder. The cuts on his lower legs would simply have to heal on their own.
Satisfied that she'd prevented the interference of any immediate (and potentially fatal) infections, Alaine began to scour the bankside, her emerald eyes settling on some longer and oval reed-plants. Leaving his side for a moment (although careful to keep one eye on that drowsy, nodding head), the woman retrieved her dagger and hacked a few of the supple leaves free from their stalks. She washed them in the shallow water and flapped them dry, before settling at a crouch at Cassius' side. With one hand on the back of his neck to hold his prone form forward, she carefully lay the large flat leaves across his larger wounds, waiting until they stuck to the salve she'd applied before releasing them. From an outsider perspective, it looked rather comical - But the leaves would staunch the flow of blood better than mere fabric would, and nor could she guarantee the sanity of the stained white cloths she used as bandages. Pulling them out now, the slender woman stood awkwardly for a moment, her emerald eyes lingering on the subdued male. No point in being hesitant now...
"You just... Don't move. Stay still, or... Or I will hurt you, mé déan eascaine!" She muttered gruffly, trying to hide her uneasiness. To bandage him, she would have to get, well... Close. Being that close made her very uncomfortable, and very vulnerable. However, there was no other option for it now. Pulling out the long shreds of fabric, Alaine gingerly wrapped her arms about his waist to loop the material in place, before continuing the motion up around his torso. Her floppy chocolate ears remained flattened to her crown of unruly auburn curls. The 'yote smelt like her salve, like fear, and strangely, like mechanic oil. Ignoring that, Alaine bandaged him up as quickly as possible, using pins to keep the individual strips of material in place. She was cautious around his broken rib, binding them tightly so as to set the bones in a position where they could naturally re-fuse.
Finally, the dainty Apothecary rocked back on her heels to survey her work. "How are we feeling now, Sir? Still holding on?"
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ooc- lol i actually had to stop myself from trying to post more after i got to the 600+ mark  I've never had such a long string of 500+ posts. ever
She seemed to bristle slightly at his drunken-like attempts at hitting on her. If he was a little more "conscious" - for lack of a more suitable term - then he wouldn't blame her one bit. Here in his current state, he actually couldn't care less. It was quite a harmless statement, with no movements going along with it. It was just as harmless as he was, since he was so busy feeding off the euphoria to pay attention to her reactions anymore that he did now. After the pain had fully subsided she had placed the bottle back and away into her supply bag. She pulled yet another bottle from the seemingly endless supply of potions and salves from the bag. This time it was a bright green one, a pleasant minty smell accompanying the solution.
She slopped the salve onto the cuts along his back and shoulders, a relieving feeling flowing to the afflicted spot now. He sighed with satisfaction, the pain having been over. All he was now was relaxed. The euphoria was slowly wearing off, and Cass was now in a more sensible state. He was not afflicted by pain and so he returned to his regularly scheduled nerd geek genius personality, complete with the accent of course. He let her finish the job, allowing her to finish applying the pulp and add begin adding the leaves to his back. He leaned forward, the pain now quite tolerable, rather than the unimaginable pain he had experienced not too long ago.
She collected the leaves and finished the process. The collie now moved on to wrapping his body with the fabric, which held the leaves in place on his wounds. Right now, the hybrid worried about how he was going to get back to the mansion. Even though he was within seeing distance of the borders and the skull pikes that marked them, he still was wounded and so handicapped. His legs still hurt, even though the pain was dampened.
Once she finished the wrapping job, she stood back to look over him, making sure she didn't miss a thing. He nodded to her, his body still aching slightly. "Actually," he started, the Cajun accent thick in his voice. "I done feel much better. Thank y'all fer helpin' me out. I don't suppose helping a 'Nfernian seems like a smart move to all y'all in the other packs. 'Specially not Dahlia anyways." He moved to stand himself upright, struggling to pull himself using the rock beside him. "I don't s'pose y'all're from there?" His purple eyes were now gleaming, a burden of pain lifted from his mind.
He yelped, his arm was forgotten and still not quite treated. He slid back down on the ground, pain ringing again in his nerves. Cassius hissed, his attention now turned to his snapped left arm. "Dammit," he grunted through his teeth, "I done forgot 'bout my arm. Care to patch that up fer me?" He gave her a half-grin, as much as he could do while still under the pain the emanated from his damaged arm. His chest felt odd, his fur partially exposed to the elements. He was not used to going about not wearing a shirt, but at least he still had his shorts on. It would be much more awkward for him if he didn't, especially in the presence of a woman like this.
His lungs visibly expanded and retracted and he continued to take deep breaths, waiting for this minor roadblock to be patched up. He wanted to get up and go before it got dark. Speaking of the time, the sun was actually quite close to setting. The sky was dyed red, much like the blood that his body contained, but Cass didn't think about the relation. He liked the yellow clouds that were scattered amongst the fiery colors. It was a sign - to him at least - that this was almost over. He couldn't wait for it to be over.
Word Count: 600+~
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table © Alaine
ooc: dude, me either! we gonna wrap this up soon? (ha, pun)
wc: 500+
His response seemed less sluggish than before, and Alaine noted with relief that whatever dangerous dregs of shock may have been in his had been dismissed, for now at least. It was not unheard of for severe trauma patients to have re-percussive boughts of shock, and considering the likelyhood of this event having been severely damaging for the homely male, there was a certain chance of it. Regardless, his charming brogue sounded much firmer than before, and this satisfied the healer such that she managed a small smile.
At the mention of Inferni, the collie woman stiffened slightly. The pack held a strange and horrible place in her mind. Glancing up now, Alaine could see in the distance the gory spires that marked the territory's edge - Her spine shivered, pinpricked by barbs of ice. It was alarming to think that she'd wandered so close, so unwittingly, to the border of the packlands - Infernians were surely not known for their mercy, and she shuddered to think of what they could do to a lone trespasser.
"Not from here, no... From Cour des Miracles, Sir. I was just looking for some pla-" Her words cut off by a sharp hiss as he rose, the healer's eyes immediately going to the limp and strangely dangling arm that hang at his side. With a low curse under her breath Alaine immediately retrieved the final scraps of material from her satchel (darn, she'd have to rip up some more of the human-cloth) and began binding his arm, finishing with a sling that she neatly tucked around his neck to hold the arm steadily against the 'yote's chest. Taking a step back to survey her work a final time, the Apothecary gave a sharp nod of assent. It would have to do. The fella was just lucky she'd found him when she had, for he'd been in severe danger of infection or worse. "Well, Sir Cassius, it's the best I could do for you here." Her sharp emerald eyes lifted to his face as she bent to sling the leather satchel back over her shoulder, settling it against the curve of her hip, "You'll have to be mighty careful not to tear open the wounds on your back, and get a pack healer to dress it regularly or it'll get infected. Also! No heavy lifting. No heavy ANYTHING." She gestured broadly, fixing him with a pertinent and suspicious look. "I didn't save your hide just for you to bust it open again, duine uasal!"
Stepping out of the water, she seemed hesitant to leave him. Pausing a moment, the woman seemed to mull something over, before making a disgruntled sound in her throat and rummaging back through her bag. She pulled out the flask, still half full of the bitter frothy green liquid, and handed it out to him. "Take this... The pain will come, and your back will itch like fire until the wounds have closed. You will need it." She was reluctant to hand it over, as it was the last of her brew, but the situation required it. There was no telling what the Inferni healers had in stock, and by the sounds of the barbarian law, it was probably not as useful as her own brew.
Speak think walk
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ooc- OOC ENDING CAUSE TIT IS LAZY :l
Basically Cass and Alaine say their sexy goodbyes and Cass limps back to IF like a mofo cause he got pimped by Haku THE END. Oh yeah and Alaine heads back to CdM and continues pimping Daisuke doing her medic badassery.
Word Count: 000+
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