Unanswered Prayers
#1
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Heee so excited for this thread. <3 Is it alright if we forward-date it a couple days to the 9th? Also, hover for translation! <3

Word Count → 551


Swentzle had gotten curious shortly after meeting with Kiara, and moved farther south, passing through the Dampwoods--and another woodland, though he didn't know it--to explore farther south. He'd left Hamza and Citlali at their more regular campsite, however, and taken only Fovea with him as a guide; Citlali was protection enough for their supplies, and Hamza could be devastating when he felt threatened, so Swentzle felt little worry in leaving them alone. Fovea seemed to like the one-on-one time; she kept hitting the back of his legs with her tail, and rubbing his hand with her head, where it rested in order for her to steer him clear of large obstacles like rivers or fallen trees.

The terrain had been more difficult to traverse for the past hour or so; Fovea guided him through tight spaces, sometimes so narrow that he had to move behind her and hold her tail to be lead through. It was past sundown, and he was completely blind now, but he still went on, curious as to where Fovea was leading him. The materials that brushed against his fur were unfamiliar; hard and cold, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. He murmured quietly under his breath the words to banish evil spirits, staying as close as he could to his feline companion as they went deeper and deeper into the abandoned city. Sometimes he tripped unexpectedly over something lying in the road, and when that happened Fovea was there immediately to catch him, though nearly always he ended up on his knees with his arms and torso over her back, the cougar not quite having been fast enough. After the seventh or eighth time, he learned to drag his feet a bit over the ground, and kicked things out of the way before they became a problem.

He soon got the feeling that Fovea was taking him somewhere in particular, but where he couldn't quite discern; it was only the comfort of the small pack hanging from his shoulder, in which was his Awk and some medicinal herbs, that convinced him to keep going rather than demand they stop. He wished Fovea knew High Speech, as so many of her kind did, but when they were younger--and he did not require so much of her--they'd preferred to operate on an instinctive basis, relying on the way the other was acting to discern what they were thinking. He hadn't thought teaching her how to speak would be important, and she'd grown so vain and touchy after he'd lost his sight that suggesting it might make her leave him; he didn't want her to think she wasn't good enough anymore.

It was he who was useless.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity--though was really only another half an hour--Fovea stopped, and moved away from him quite suddenly, leaving him stumbling as he reached after her. "Quo vadis, Fovea?" His voice had an edge of panic in it, hoping she might return to him when she realized he was distressed, but this was not the case; she simply left him there, shaking slightly from the cold--he'd forgone his wrap when they'd started out, leaving his chest and arms bare, thinking it might be slightly warmer tonight--and from the fear.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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#2
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5+ Hope this is ok!


Caspa couldn't help but feel a strange fascination with the austere and barren streets of the city. They showed a wealth of mechanical knowledge in the near-miraculous constructions. Humans were something she had learned to almost revere. They had taught many things to the wolf in crafting their faithful dog, and she was a blend of both creatures. It had even been hinted in her gospel that the original believers had been humans, and the tenets of good discipline they had learned from wolves, refined by divine guidance, and taught to their hounds. She didn't have much time for history and theory: to her, her beliefs were self-evident. But if the humans had built this place and risen to such heights, they must have understood them at least somewhat. Obviously, not well enough, because they had never learned to live at peace - not with each other, nor the natural world. She could have felt dwarfed looking up at the grey piles of stone that were buildings, but she didn't. She felt superior.


She always found something here to engage her active and questioning mind, an object or a fellow stray. The cold December air was empty and clear today though. Her leather coat was thankfully still serviceable, although marked with horse-tooth-marks and lacking sleeves - she'd taken those to make a satchel. A warm sheep-fleece gilet nestled closer to her skin, the wool soft against neck-fur and around her hips. Caspa had dressed to travel, and was cosy enough as long as she kept moving, easy enough to do as she still sought to find something to capture her imagination. One building, taller than the rest with colourful glass in the windows, drew her and she moved to it. It seemed old - the walls made from uneven grey blocks of stone, and there was a crack beginning near the roof, which was sharply pointed and had a overhanging belfry which stuck out over the street a little way. She wanted to look inside, but something warned her away from venturing beneath that protuberance. Indecisive, she sidled back and forth in front of the wide doorway, trying to see inside without going any closer. It looked to be one large room with a high ceiling. She was drawn to the cavernous interior, but put off by that sense of danger. It was a dilemma, which suddenly became even more multi-layered than she would have thought possible as a cluster of scents hit her at the same time as she heard a voice, heard something coming towards her, and turned to face a cougar. More accurately, the cougar had passed her, moving towards the wide entrance.


She stared after the large feline, every long hair prickling on her body. She was glad now she had brought her throwing knives. She had not faced a rival predator before, and knew no Low Speech. She could have killed it instantly, but long habit of refraining from violence stilled her hands - that and the sight of the wolf just a little way up the street, arms clawing at thin air. Caspa frowned, perplexed. What was this? She crossed with hasty, nervous steps to the man, eyes flicking him over to check for injuries - he seemed fixed in place as if unable to walk. "Either you are hunting that lion or following it, and I can't quite believe either to be true."

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#3
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It's awesome! Big Grin I hope you don't mind, I assumed a couple things...

Word Count → 534


Fovea walked a few yards further, passing the white canine in the cloak, and then circled around a headstone to turn and watch them, her head lifted haughtily as though waiting for Swentzle to catch up. Swentzle couldn't see it, but he was fairly certain of her actions; it had been a pose she assumed often before the accident. He began carefully dragging his feet forward, shuffling more than walking--and barely moving, at that--and feeling more and more ashamed the longer it took him to find her, but before he could dwell too much on it, he felt a hand brush close to his fur. Not quite touching, but seemingly checking for injuries. He froze, surprised that he'd been unaware of the other canine in the area, and turned his head slightly, attempting to locate her with if swiveling of his ears was any indication.

He supposed his panic was the reason he'd been so negligent, but he vowed to be more careful from then on, and worked his throat into answering her question. "Fovea is a companion of mine. It may be hard to believe, but she is my guide for this journey." He explained quietly, feeling disoriented and off-balance, as it was clear she could see him, even when he couldn't see her. This was why he didn't usually come out at night; he was completely blind then, and it grew harder and harder to see even during the day as time went on. After a moment's hesitation, he returned his arms to his body, folding them over his chest both to ward off cold and to make him feel more comfortable. It did nothing to unlock his knees, however, and over-all his stance was very stiff and uncomfortable.

He turned his head slightly toward where he thought Fovea to be, and though he could not see her, he knew she was there when he heard the quiet sounds of her bathing herself. Fovea had, in fact, perched herself on the base of a headstone that had once held a large statue, and was now bathing her ears and tail, seemingly without a care in the world. She was quite worried about Swentzle, though; they'd been a team for so long she couldn't bear to see him stumble about so. She'd come across this place on one of her hunts, and seen the large symbol--the cross--that hung around some Luperci's necks and that seemed to be sacred. The earth here struck her as hallowed ground, as the Burial Mounds once had, and she'd brought Swentzle here in the hopes that the combination of sacred things would bring him back to her--whether it healed him, or blinded him completely.

Leaping off her bathing stone, she stalked over to the two canines, yowling to get their attention when she was a few yards away and then turning her back and bounding into the building. Swentzle listened to her footsteps fade and felt something settle in his chest, though what he couldn't quite say. "Please, if you would...where are we?" He asked the stranger, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and at a disadvantage almost as soon as he'd spoken.


Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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#4
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He explained the creature's relation to him. Caspa looked from one to the other, faintly surprised. The cat was a fine physical specimen, and this man seemed stiff enough to be in pain, and his eyes did not register the white dog's face. The cat was calling them, but he seemed unable to move. Caspa watched the cougar leap among the stones with agile strength, and wondered if she should be afraid. This man must be able to speak with the creature, and there was something unearthly about this alliance. It reminded her of the wolves who rode horses. There was nothing truly wrong with it, but she mistrusted the idea of having such a large and dangerous animal hold your life in its hands. She could not speak with the other species herself.


His question was terribly general, and she wondered how long he had been wandering blind. "In the central part of the city," she answered. "Your friend is trying to get us to go into a large stone hall. It does not look entirely safe to me but I suppose it has lasted this long." She peered into his eyes in a way she would not with someone fully-sighted. The huge pupils and strangeness of them made her wonder if he had been poisoned. "How long have you had difficulty with vision?"

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#5
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occ here

Word Count → 282


Swentzle tilted his head slightly, a small frown pulling at his maw. A city? He'd heard of such things, of course--the remnants of the humans that had once ruled the earth. But he'd never felt the desire to investigate them, even if there had been one not far from where he was. What was Fovea doing, bringing him here? He shifted, his eyes flicking back and forth for a moment before he settled them once more into a blank gaze into the darkness. He wished he could speak to his companion...

"Thank you for informing me." He said, and then hesitated. A stone hall...Fovea had never been fascinated with buildings before, but he couldn't help but wonder what it was that had drawn her to this one. "I would not be comfortable within an unstable building...but Fovea has shown no interest in ruins before. I cannot help but wonder what it is that she's trying to show me." He reached up to rub a hand along the back of his neck, lowering his head but keeping his eyes wide and open. He didn't want to miss even a flicker of something he might see.

"How long have you had difficulty with vision?" He blinked, and raised his head again, his ears lowering. "Ah. That is...somewhat painful to answer." He said, and shook his head. "I was caught in a fire, attempting to save my daughter, and the smoke never quite left my eyes." He sighed, lowering his hands to fold them over his chest again. "I was partially blinded, but it is the worst at night. I cannot see my hand in front of my face." He added.


Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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#6
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Caspa supposed she would regret it if she did not assist the short-sighted stranger in deciphering what his unusual travelling companion was trying to convey. It seemed he didn't talk the cat's language either, or it would have been easy to figure out. This mystified her even more. How had he built the bond of co-operation without even the gift of language? She would never understand these ties that other canines and creatures seemed to be able to build between one another. It was a commitment too far away from freedom to be tasteful to the aloof and independent Baroness.


She supposed she could start by providing the only thing he was missing - visual information. "Fovea is sitting on a tall flat stone," she relayed. "There are many colours in the windows but it is quite dark inside. I will have to go in if I'm to see any more." Those were the only two bits of information that leaped out to grab her attention. Apparently, though, sight was not the only thing he was missing. From his short-told story and his sadness, she had a horrible feeling that his daughter had not survived the incident. She hoped she was wrong. He should not have to deal with his disability alone, though - where was the rest of his pack? Was the cougar meant to be a replacement for a lost family? If so he was more unfortunate even than he appeared. "Have you been alone for long?" she asked gently.

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#7
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occ here

Word Count → 385


Swentzle was grateful for the information she gave him, and frowned slightly at the description of the colored glass in the windows. Antiman had once told him of such a place; he'd called it a church. It had been the home of the human's spiritual leaders, according to the old texts they'd found together...why on earth would Fovea bring him here? "I have some idea of where we are," He said after a moment, reaching up to rub his throat thoughtfully, "But still cannot discern my companions' reasons for this journey." Fovea yowled impatiently from her rock, and then leaped up and disappeared around the building, presumably finding a way inside, as a moment later her purring echoed eerily from within. His hand traveled up to his hair, and he ran his hand through it uneasily before he sighed. "I'm afraid I will not be able to get inside, with or without help. And I would not ask such a thing of you, if it truly looks unsafe. Whatever Fovea wishes to share will have to be brought out here." And the last he said in a much louder voice, to be heard within the building.

The gentle question caught him off guard, but he shook his head all the same, a frown pulling at his maw and his brows pushing together uncomfortably. "No, not long...three months, give or take a few weeks. After the incident I could not bear the shame I brought my family and my tribe, so I left." He paused, and ran his fingers through his hair again, sighing heavily. "I begin to regret my decision...but what is done is done. Shevon did not deserve a father who could not protect her, anyway." Kiara had pointed out the benefits of being only partially blinded, and he had to admit, now, that he'd been narrow-minded in his grief; he could have stayed where he was and learned to be of more use than a burden; but instead he'd fled from the shame, and from the pain he'd not been able to save Shevon from. If Anzhela could see him now, he had no doubt she'd slap some sense into him; but he had only himself to rely on, now.

Himself...and Fovea, whom still had yet to return.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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#8
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Caspa turned her head involuntarily after the cougar as Swentzle called to her, but there was yet no sign of a reappearance. She listened to the rest of his story, knowing that a weaker heart might have broken at his tragic words. "There is no shame in failing to perform miracles," she said softly, wishing she could defeat pain with logic but knowing that this never worked. "They - and she - know you did all you could." He should not enter the place before them - he had faced enough danger in recent times, and she wouldn't like to say whether the building was safe enough for somebody who couldn't see... but she was not in that boat herself. "I could have a look around within and report back what she is doing," she offered, taking a step nearer and suddenly noticing with sharp eyes that it appeared another wolf had been here recently. There were a couple of paw-prints in the rubble, next to the cat's, and like hers, these tracks only went one way. In. Maybe there was another exit, though it was pretty dark inside so it would have to be a closed door if so.

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table image credit to Burksy@flickr
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#9
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ooc here

Word Count → 252


Swentzle nodded at the twist of wisdom, but his face still betrayed his melancholy thoughts. There were so many if onlys whirling around in his skull that it was rather impossible for him to put on a happy face, though he was able to put it out of his mind when the stranger offered to go in and see what Fovea was up to. He frowned worriedly, cocking his head and listening intently for reasons unknown to him at that moment. "If you are certain...but please, do be careful." He said, and hugged himself tightly as she began to walk away.

He had not noticed, before, the scent of other canines, but now he did; and there was not only the scent of the female he'd spoken with, but another, more faded scent, laid into the ground and wafting on the air around him. He hesitated a moment, wondering if the person had been and gone already, but he didn't feel comfortable enough to bank on it, and began walking forward, his hands out and his feet dragging across the ground to prevent him from falling. Fovea wasn't there to help him, but he didn't mind; he was only growing more concerned, as the farther up the path he got, the heavier the scent of blood hanging in the air became. Swentzle didn't know if it came from his companion, or from the one with the faded scent, but he couldn't help but be concerned, either way. "Miss...? Are you alright?"


Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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#10
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Sorry for passing out on you D: 5+


Perhaps it was a premonition, or his senses needed to be sharper than Caspa's due to the lack of sight, but she couldn't smell blood. Moving very quickly in order to get under the jutting belfry, she slowed instantly she was within the building. It had a tall, arching roof with many beams, and almost no furniture. Pillars broke the weak light into weaker shadows, and a very impressive coloured window filled almost the entirety of one wall, but it was so dusty little light filtered through to paint the hall its various hues. The floor was stone, and very cold: she could feel the cool dampness spreading over her whole body. She saw the cougar, and began to head towards her, but halted in shock to see what the cat was looking at, pinned up against the wall. Maybe she had come in here on some other purpose, but now she appeared to have caught a wolf. The luperci was as still as one of the robed human statues, but his chest was fluttering with fear. Caspa wanted to tell him the lion was safe, but she suddenly wasn't so sure. It didn't look like Fovea was actually being aggressive, but she was standing and facing the man in a way that Caspa certainly wouldn't have wanted to be trapped in front of. If she startled the cat, would it attack? Her anxiety made her motionless too.

There was a second of dim and gloomy silence, the wolf's eyes darting from side to side, then Fovea seemed to notice Caspa. She turned her head, then her body, winding a sinuous cat-like greeting and the ivory hound relaxed: yes, of course, this was Swentzle's companion, not a wild creature. The other wolf seemed relieved too, but he seemed to think his reprieve was only because the cougar had turned its attention to a weaker target. He shouted "Oh, thank you, thank you," to no one in particular, and then dashed for the exit, both cat and dog head turning to watch him. He gave a yell as he reached the doorway, and screeched to a halt, perhaps noticing Swentzle and feeling himself trapped. Or maybe he hadn't seen the other male at all, for his head seemed upwards turned and Caspa realised he'd run into a cloud of dust emanating from the upper lintel of the large stone door. The next second, the wall above the door disintegrated and fell, taking the little belfry with it.

Caspa noticed with resigned horror that the world resumed its slow-motion sharpness as it did whenever danger hit: noticed the breaking blocks of stone and the ancient plaster exploding into dust, noticed the stranger-wolf, disappearing beneath it all, noticed the rays of dying December sun coming through the hole where the masonry had been, lighting this interior brightly in a way it probably had never been before. She had no idea if the building was done collapsing but she sprinted for the pile of rubble anyway, clutching a hand to her mouth to try to filter the dust which she could hardly even see through.

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</style>

table image credit to Burksy@flickr
[/html]
#11
[html]

No worries! Big Grin

Word Count → 403


Swentzle's sense of foreboding grew the farther up the hill he went, and his eyes strained to see in the dark. There were a few last, dying rays of sunlight, but little else; and that wasn't enough to help him see clearly. He went on blindly, and when he reached the opening, halted, leaning forward and squinting to see in the darkness. He heard the shouted professions of gratitude, and running footsteps, coming toward him; he held a hand out, more to steady himself than to stop anyone, but it seemed that was enough, as the footsteps halted and a shout was heard. Swentzle heard the stones shifting together above him and did the only sensible thing there was to do, selfish though it seemed; he threw himself back, covering his head with his hands as the ceiling came down. As soon as the dust seemed to have settled, he leaped to his feet once more, and began pulling smaller rocks off the top of the pile.

He heard the female coming up on the other side, and gritted his teeth, trying to remember everything he'd learned about the structural foundations of things. "If you pull things from the bottom to get to him faster, a larger rock may crush him to death." He said, and his voice was sharp and somewhat terse, his hands groping blindly for stones small enough for him to haul off by himself. He found the edge of a larger one, and felt slowly around it, finding it to be almost half his size. He'd need to get rid of that; perhaps there was a way to roll it harmlessly down the side of the pile, rather than inward and onto the stranger? He climbed up onto the pile, stepping as lightly as he could and where he was fairly certain there was no possibility of him causing any harsh consequences, and tried to feel the smoothest side. But it appeared the rock rested on top of the dog himself, and in a sort of groove, at that; it would have to be lifted off of him and taken away. He continued his investigation with his hands, pulling smaller stones whenever it seemed they could afford to go, and finally stood, his mouth set in a determined line and his eyes hard. "How strong are you? We need to move this rock, here, before I can treat him."



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}

</style>
[/html]
#12
[html]


The blind man could certainly move. He was already digging into the pile as she reached it, still trying to figure out what hope there was for the stranger-wolf, and whether he could be saved. She could see the inert form, right in amongst all the rubble the colour of his fur obscured by a thick skin of dust. From what she could see, most of the masonry had miraculously missed him, but inevitably one great slab had landed squarely across his midsection, halving him nicely. "Swentzle," she intoned in soft but dark tones, grim with the knowledge he could not save the wolf this time either. "I can see what you can't, that he is already dead." But the other wolf was so determined, using his hands to remove the stones, that Caspa found herself drawn to peer closer through the curtain of still-settling dust and realised that because of the groove the large stone lay upon, there was a few inches clearance. Perhaps enough to save the canine's life, though she would be amazed if he wasn't fatally injured with the amount of stonework that had fallen. A miracle - and if it wasn't for Swentzle, she wouldn't have even believed he could still be alive at all. The urgency of the situation denied her even a moment's consideration of this though. She said nothing to retract her previous statement, finding the situation too urgent she merely lunged forwards across the stones to shovel her hands beneath each side of the block and tense her slender shoulders, lean muscles knotting in her arms as she heaved at it.

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</style>

table image credit to Burksy@flickr
[/html]
#13
[html]

occ here

Word Count → 288


Caspa spoke, and Swentzle's face only hardened at the words. Perhaps, had he been able to see clearly, he might have said the same; but his hands were his eyes, and he could feel that slight gap between the stone that needed to be moved and the ones beneath it. Enough to survive beneath, he thought, and as Caspa moved forward to help him despite her protests, they managed to heave the rock up and off the injured dog. He let it go mid-fling, hoping that Caspa might do the same, and then turned his attention back toward the now-exposed chest of the white mutt. He coughed slightly at the dust that rose up into his nostrils, covering his maw for a moment before he knelt down, resting one hand on the mutt's sternum and holding the other before his mouth and nose.

After a long moment, he felt the slightest gust of air against his palm, and though there was no rise and fall beneath his other hand, he refused to believe that breath had been a fluke, rising and stepping back with a heavy sigh of his own. "I felt him take a breath. He may yet have a chance...do you see anything else preventing us from taking him to safety?" he asked, his head turning blindly toward where he thought his companion was. His hands dug in his satchel, and after a moment he came up with a pinch of a smelly herb that would hopefully ease whatever pain he caused as he attempted to bandage the male. He didn't move to force it into the strangers' mouth, though, until he was certain there was nothing else that needed to be done.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

<style>
.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;}
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p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}

</style>
[/html]
#14
[html]


Caspa wrenched both her shoulders as she flung the slab aside, but hardly noticed the pain. The two dropped in unison to the side of the fortunate canine, and she seized his wrist to take the pulse. Swentzle confirmed he too could feel signs of life. The only danger she could imagine was staying where they were, sucking in this noxious dust and waiting for more of the building to crumble around their heads. "Let us move him into the air," she suggested with regret in her voice, knowing that it was most likely to be internal injuries or broken bones that the poor creature suffered from and also knowing that moving him with ignorance was likely to exacerbate these conditions. She did not feel they had a choice, though: if something else fell on him, he was almost certainly dead, as were she, Swentzle and the cougar, wherever it had gone. Caspa knelt and slipped a hand beneath the canine's shoulders, supporting him into a half-sit. Compared with that stone block, he was light. "If you bend down and take his arm, we can lift him."

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</style>

table image credit to Burksy@flickr
[/html]
#15
[html]

occ here

Word Count → 526


There was a small fear in his heart that he would not be able to heal the male, but it was quickly banished to the back of his mind as Caspa directed him to take an arm. He did so, having to grope for a moment for the thickly furred thing before slinging it over his shoulder. It was then he noticed the scent of blood coming from the male, and he hefted the boy up, lifting his nose to see if he could discern where the scent was coming from. He managed to wrap an arm around the man's waist, just below his ribs so that he didn't injure them further, and pulled him up so that they stood, with the white dog leaning heavily on Swentzle. It was clear to the blind man that he was unconscious, so he began moving him. It was when one of the much larger male's legs brushed against his that Swentzle realized where the blood was coming from; he could feel the bone protruding, and knew he'd have to set it and then bandage it tightly so that it would heal properly. He certainly wasn't looking forward to that.

"I think I can carry him on my own." Swentzle said, his eyes squinting slightly to see the difference in light. The sun had set by then, and he had only starlight to guide him; but it was enough to tell him which direction was out. "If you are not too uncomfortable in the building for a bit longer, could you see if there's anything we can use as bandages? His leg will need to be set." His voice didn't shake, though it very badly wanted to; setting bones was perhaps his least favorite part of healing. But when it had to be done, it had to be done; and it was not he who would feel the pain.

He began moving carefully down the pile of rubble, wincing every time he banged the dog's leg against a rock. He was so much larger than the rather small Swentzle that it simply couldn't be helped, and it took quite a bit for Swentzle to get him outside and to what he deemed a safe distance from the collapsing building. Then he laid the man out, and pulled out the herbs again, grinding them between his hands before forcing open the male's jaws and tucking them into his cheeks. Irinei was conscious enough to swallow the herbs on his own, for which Swentzle was grateful; he had no water on his person, and he wasn't very good at force-feeding medicine, anyway. Fovea, for her part, stayed in the building to make sure Caspa got out alright, hovering along the outer edges of her personal space and kicking herself as much as a cat like Fovea did. This was her fault; she'd been curious about the strange male, and had scared him into shouting in a place that should have been condemned a long time ago. Her tail flicked irritably the whole time she followed the white female, and she could only feel sorrow that her plan hadn't gone accordingly.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;}
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p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}

</style>
[/html]
#16
[html]


The man took the mutt on his arm as if he had experience with invalids. Caspa had to wonder just how disaster-prone the poor guy must be. He spoke as if trained in healing, and she was glad: she herself had no such first-aid abilities. With two of them, it would be easier to twist the limp form so she stood back, acquiescing to Swentzle's request, wheeling and surveying the chamber for anything to strip into a bandage. As she went she was aware of being followed by the cat, which seemed a little regretful about the whole affair. Caspa hadn't thought she'd meant to scare the stranger - he was just jumpy, for some reason. The place was a little spooky, and she felt rather like the ghost Skoll had called her, flitting about it anxiously with searching eyes. Eventually they lit upon a square box or table, a tall pewter - for it couldn't be gold, could it? - candlestick standing on top of a white cloth that covered it. She tossed the candlestick aside rather perfunctorily, making it rattle on the floor, and swept the silky sheet away, tearing it into strips that flew pennants behind her as she hurried back outside to a dusky dusty world and a concrete sickbed. She knelt swiftly beside the doctor and the patient: the disaster victims past and present. "How is this?" The makeshift bandages streamed across the white furred chest. She had no idea what to do with them: she understood bones, but not how they repaired. Hopefully Swentzle knew what he was doing.

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</style>

table image credit to Burksy@flickr
[/html]
#17
[html]

This post...is not my best. :x lolol sorry. |D

Word Count → 419


Caspa soon returned with strips of cloth, and Swentzle nodded, though he couldn't see them; anything at this point would work just fine. He lay the male out as well as he could, and then moved down to the mangled leg, putting his hands on either side of the break. He felt his stomach squirm and his mouth water as though he were about to throw up, but he shook the feelings away irritably and narrowed his blind eyes as he felt the wound as best he could. When he knew exactly what he had to do--and had elicited enough pained noises from the male to make his heart clench and his stomach begin doing cartwheels--he turned his head toward Caspa again. "Hold him down for a moment, if you would. This is going to be painful." And his voice held a tinge of regret for that, though it didn't stop him from flexing his hands and, moments later, pulling and pushing the bone back into place.

It was indeed very painful, if the scream that came from the white dog's lips was any indication, but Swentzle could afford to do little more than shudder as he reached blindly for the bandages and began winding them tightly around the freshly bleeding wound. Fovea brought forward two sticks, about as long as the lower half of the male's leg, and with another strip of cloth he secured them to the sides of the male's leg, forming a make-shift splint that would, with any luck, keep it from healing wrong. When that was done--taking all of about ten minutes in all--he sat back, holding his bloody hands out uneasily as though not quite sure what to do with them now. Finally he snapped out of it enough to wipe the blood off on his loincloth and move to the injured man's side once more, his mouth set in a tight line as he felt for broken ribs. Some of the bones there moved in frightening ways, but there was nothing he could do about them; he merely reached for the last bits of cloth, and slid his arms around the male's back, winding them about his ribcage just as tightly as he'd wrapped the leg. He finished the process with a few more pain-killing herbs tucked into the white male's cheeks, but he was out cold by then--the pain having knocked him unconscious--and Swentzle sighed, hoping he hadn't done more harm than good.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}

</style>
[/html]
#18
3+ [html]

Tis good! Mine's a little peculiar as ever, but I'm sure you're used to that.


It was mesmerising, the way the blind doctor worked. His hands moved over flesh in the same way as eyes would have. She was barely affected by the groaning, knowing pain to be inevitable in this existence. She had never felt the pain of a broken bone, but she had suffered in her own way. She would emit no emotional pleas or reassurances, merely sat calmly and waited for instruction or inspiration as to what best assistance to provide. When the order was given, she was surprised at how simple her task was; but then of course it all depended on how much the man would flail when the agony struck. It was good, at least, that there was enough life left in him to endure.


Her hands stole forwards gentle as if stroking a kitten, then spindle-thin fingers found a grip either side of the trembling collarbone and bore down with unflinching strength, a hole maintained even as the man lurched and quivered in tortured throes. She had never been called upon to touch someone like this, to hold them. It felt strange, and not entirely savoury. She could feel muscle, bone and fur shifting and playing under her taut fingers. But she held without hesitation until the splint was fastened and she felt the male go limp and pliant once more. It was clearly safe to release him. She found she was breathing fast and hoarsely, perhaps from concern, and stilled herself with a sigh to match Swentzle's. "You have saved him..." she murmured. "He is breathing yet, so he is bound to live. I am not a healer, but I could perhaps offer him shelter in my pack..." Her mind turned to the Court. Their healer was long gone, and Liam still so young: so much responsibility at his age, especially during the recent war. Perhaps, although it was not her authority to say so, Swentzle could come back with her to tend to the man. Unless he had somewhere safer than here to go, as well.

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</style>

table image credit to Burksy@flickr
[/html]
#19
[html]

I love you're posts hehe. <3

Word Count → 247


Swentzle's heart ached at the pain he caused, though he was relieved when Caspa succeeded in holding the large male relatively still. He brushed a hand through the fur on his chest, touching for a moment the scars from his first hunt, and then blew out his breath. He offered a weary smile to Caspa as she spoke, his hands trembling slightly from exertion and nerves--it had been so long since he'd done any serious healing; it was terrifying, and exhilarating, to know he still had it in him--but he nodded, not letting out the desperate hope that he would live, and that he would not gain an infection or run a fever from this moment on. She offered to give the young man shelter, and Swentzle hesitated a moment, then dropped his gaze to his hands. "I have no pack of my own with which to shelter him, but I do have the supplies and skills to keep him alive." Rubbing his blood-stained hands together uneasily, he continued quietly, "And there is a pack in the mountains that I would join, had this not occurred. If you have no objections, I would take him there." He paused, and then added, "But your pack is no doubt closer, and if you have a healer of your own...?" He would see to it that this man got the best care that could be provided, no matter how responsible for him the blind wolf-dog felt.



Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!

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.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;}
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She did not object, and her dark eyes were very thoughtful as they fixed upon his own unseeing irises, more frankly than she would have with a wholly sighted wolf. Something stirred inside her, a wish to give this man a reprieve from the guilt he manifestly felt. If she cut short his cure, by removing the invalid to a place that was certainly a little lacking in the medicinal area - and giving Liam yet another chore, when he should be enjoying his carefree youth - altogether Caspa wasn't sure if it would be the best course of events. Perhaps the Court was closer than the mountains, but not by much. She probably could not tote the male all the way by herself, so Swentzle would have to come too. Then, his journey, alone and unseeing, would take a day or perhaps even days: she would hate to abandon him to wander alone with the flighty cougar once more. No, there was a better way. "My pack can tend the sick, but it is far out of your way. It is best I guide you and help carry him on swift paths towards the mountain pack you seek." Part of her was in fact curious to know which one he meant. Caspa only knew of one northwards pack, and she sincerely doubted that this gentle and sorrowful character was bound for that dark and sinister place.

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