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Ithiel is by Kitty!
The dusky coyote nodded in response, as his healing skills were much the same -- gleaned from watching the performances of others. He was quick to think better of departing into the sheer darkness, and trotted back to retrieve his lantern. It cast a shaky orange glow, but it was sturdier than a candle. Its only downfall was the glass encasement of the flame -- Ithiel often feared breaking it, and kept after it carefully. Once the item was in his hand, the drab coyote took off after Alma, following her to the mouth of her cave. He didn't hesitate before entering, but looked around curiously once he was within all the same, wanting to see how another of the clan lived. There were all sorts of wooden items, and the cave smelled particularly strongly of something Ithiel could not identify. It was not unpleasant, however, merely strong.
The dusky coyote followed her into the rear of the cave, though he stopped and allowed her ample room to move about. No time for housekeeping when there's danger, the dusky coyote said, and it was more a general a lamentation rather than a nitpick on Alma's ability to keep her cave cleaned. I have wanted to make changes to my own cave for some time, but now? No, he added, shaking his head. What is all the wood? he asked idly, somehow made almost -- nervous? Was that what it was? He thought so. He was almost made nervous by being in the presence of the orange-furred coyote, alone. To give his hands something to do, he began unwrapping the wound with a free hand, grimacing as the last of the binding separated from his still-healing flesh. The lowest part of the wound, a slash through his flesh, had split open again, and the granite-shaded fur there was stained reddish.
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AWKWARD TIEM
Alma bent down to pick up a rabbit pelt. The head was missing, and the legs were in thin strips - but it was fine otherwise. She stood up and dusted it off, in case any bits of wood or dust had gotten into the pelt. The male mentioned something about housekeeping, which gave her a moment of confusion. She looked at him blankly; she thought her cave was organized, if that was what he implying. Although she was born Luperci, she was raised in a more feral lifestyle, and so was not familiar with the methods more civilized canines might use to decorate, or store things.
"The wood is for bows. Most of it. Spears, too, but I have not made any recently." Alma simply thought the bow was a superior weapon, though there was also the fact that Ezekiel had commissioned her to work on making bows for all of Inferni. For those reasons, she spent most of her time making bows - even if spears were easier and quicker to make. "Sometimes I get bored and do little things. Beads... carvings..."
She trailed off while she watched him remove the old bandage. The blood dripping from the wound, staining his fur, reminded her that she would need water or something to clean it with. Alma did not have any with her, and had temporarily forgotten Lethe, the river that ran through the caverns. The only thing that came to mind was using her tongue, and that suddenly made her feel very, very awkward. "Uhhh..." How am I supposed to ask this? The coyote woman stood there, staring at him. In times of nervousness or stress, she was prone to becoming nonverbal. This, unfortunately, was one of those times.
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Ithiel is by Raze!
Ithiel looked around more closely upon hearing these items were meant to become weapons, his curiosity piqued. I make arrows and staffs, he offered. Bow-making was something he had not yet learned, though he thought he might try. The dusky-furred coyote nodded; he understood decorative items, though his own were purely symbolic and had intrinsic value -- they were not trinkets of boredom. Still, he understood the need to keep one's hands busy.
Her noise caught his ears and he looked toward her with his head cocked, carnelian eyes uncomprehending for a moment. Ithiel looked back at her for a moment, not understanding what it was she was hesitating about. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked away, at one of the piles of wood. He looked back and shrugged uncertainly, the ghost of a frown crossing his muzzle. Whatever needs to be done, he said, still not absolutely certain what the issue was.
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Alma could only watch his reaction. It was not clear if he understood what she was so hesitant about, but he seemed to want to get on with it. Alma could admit that she saw the logic in wanting to get it over with quickly, since the wound was still bleeding. She sighed, and said, "Just... ah. Stay still and don't look this way." The last was more for her benefit than his; she wasn't sure she could go through with it while he looking.
When he had done as she asked, she took a deep breath and drew close to him. The coyote woman placed a hand on his unwounded shoulder, as if she thought he might run away or flinch. She leaned forward and licked the blood from his wound. It was nothing unusual, or at least, it shouldn't be. Canines had been cleaning their wounds with their tongues long before the virus had taken hold. It certainty would have made more sense among her mostly non-luperci family. Then why did she feel so awkward?
When all the blood had been removed from his fur, she stepped back and placed the rabbit pelt over his wound. She tied it around his shoulder, though not so tight that he would lose circulation. A little pressure was applied to the bandage, then released once she sensed that it was no longer bleeding.
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Ithiel is by Raze!
The dusky hybrid nodded, thinking he wouldn't move much anyway -- he was not extremely pain-tolerant, but he did not like showing weakness, all the same. Though he was curious, he did as Alma bid and gazed in just the opposite direction, gazing into a dark corner of the woman's cave. His carnelian eyes studied a pile of wood, the shape of it and shadow against the wall, flickering with the orange light of his lantern. There was warmth where her hand touched his shoulder, and he could not help but jerk in surprise, though he kept his head turned away.
The next sensation sent a tight shiver up his spine, and he could not help but steal a glance in the orange-haired woman's direction, peering from the corner of his blood-colored eyes without turning his head. He glanced away again quickly and did not shift under her tongue. He wouldn't have known how to look or what to say even if he had been allowed to look at her, so it was best that he had been commanded to look away, in the end. The dusky coyote swallowed in a way he hoped was quiet, and shifted a bit as her tongue left him.
There was the sensation of the wound being wrapped up again, and at long last, Ithiel glanced toward the Discens. Uncertain as he was, the dark-furred coyote forced a smile, dipping his head. Thank you, he said. The pale tip of his tail wavered as if to echo this sentiment, and strangely enough, part of him wanted to reach out for her and perhaps touch her shoulder as she'd touched his. Something held him back, however, and he could only gawk at her instead, still wagging the end of his tail.
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