Flirting With Death

Flirting With Death

Lyris Stryder

09-20-2012, 09:54 PM

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Word Count :: 398

OOC :: --

She was, in fact, flirting with death. It had started with the grizzly bear. She had been this close to being ripped to shreds. Instead it did the ladder to her family, leaving her alone and wounded. She should've died. Attacked by another, stronger wolf, or simply unable to sustain herself. But she hadn't- her heart still beat. Then came the hungry Luperci, whom ripped open her shoulder and exposed her to possible infection. She had been stupid in the first place to try and retaliate to the loner, and even more so to fight back when the battle was already lost. Who did she think she was?

Lyris Stryder. That's who she was. Lyris Stryder- the orphaned, the wounded, the homeless. Although, that last fact wasn't true- not any longer. She had found herself a home. Sangi'lak.

Two dark pools of evergreen, slicing through the thick, moist dark- peering into the clearing beyond. This was to be her home? First a paw- small and petite, white as freshly fallen snow. A pause, and then came a head. Sleek and narrow-muzzled, with sharp, chiseled features and high cheekbones. Slanting evergreen eyes- the first of the female we had seen- churned endlessly in the silvery wash of moonlight. Painted atop those cheekbones was a uniform row of elephant-gray specks, escalating in size from the inner corner of her eyes to the outer. And lastly, a feature that marred all of the others. A long pink scar began at the right side of her face, underneath the jaw, before it curved up, then twisting in a lightning-bolt figure. At last, it ended in a sharp point above the right eye. She would have been beautiful if not for that scar. The fact that it was rimmed in dried blood and leaking discharge did not help that. A second wound blossomed from her left shoulder, still ever so slightly leaking blood into the powder-white fur. Clearly, the female had been through a lot. But she was confident all of her suffering would end here.

Now a young female canine stood fully in the half-light, dirtied fur shimmering despite the layer of grime. Slender neck was craned and eyes warily darted left to right. Lyris was confused- what now? Go find a quiet corner to nap in? Immediately begin her new duties? She needed guidance and help. Badly.

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X'yrin Exultare

09-21-2012, 02:51 PM

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ooc: :c sorry im late!

Sept. 20th | Secui Form | Exhausted and Wild-looking

Something was wrong. This apparent truth could not be denied any longer though she insisted on metaphorically burying her head in the sand to the symptoms becoming more obvious. Weakness was her first and more humbling sign, forcing her to leave the mountain less and less and sleeping in solitude more than she was accustomed. Training had fallen by the wayside, which in itself as a taboo for the Exultare female. She could not run without feeling winded, nor balance upon the stones of the Garden without feeling ready to collapse at any moment. Her joints were burdened by an imaginary pain that made it difficult to run, let alone hunt without assistance. Smaller game was about the best she could handle, and even then the small meals were never enough. Despite her weakness, she was always craving more.

And the thirst. It was alarming. What started as an annoying routine because a painful ritual that forced the she-wolf down the mountain time and time again to the lake. Sense would have dictated that the pair of them return to the Chambers and stay there until she was over her ailment, but X'ies would always deny her using this sickness to assert his limited dominance, but always in a loving manner that show he cared though worry was apparent in his eyes. Neither of them would speak of it, but she knew they had though the same thing; perhaps purging had done more than what was expected. Perhaps it weakened her to such a severe degree that this illness was its result. Were the Ancestors upset with her? Was this their punishment, she wondered but refused to speak with X'ies about it. He seemed to be in his own thoughts, taking her illness as he did most things; in contemplation.

Even though she knew something was not right with her, she could not resist against the demands of her body. Food, water, rest. Food had already been taken care of that morning, now on her ritual was the water. Completing her haphazard slide down the mountain the Issor commenced her march to the lake, tipping her muzzle skyward with a yawn from her late rise.

365 words.

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Lyris Stryder

09-21-2012, 08:17 PM

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Word Count :: 351

OOC :: No worries!

Exhaustion. Pain. She wanted to drop right there and let it all be over. Emotions tightened her chest and danced through her heart- excruciatingly confusing and unidentifiable. Just barely old enough to fend for herself she was thrown into a turmoil of danger and utter loneliness. Torn from her family, attacked by a beast, wounded by another, and at last she found peace. Had she not found Sangi'lak's border when she had, she might have given up and curled into a ball, letting the cool breeze and swaying leaves take her.

But she had found Sangi'lak's border. And she hadn't given up. She was till breathing- fighting through it. Clean yourself off, Lyris. Mechanically, the female took a seat, obeying her own orders. When confused, she started with the simplest and most logical thing she could take action too, and ordered herself to do so. Right now, she needed to look semi-presentable to the rest of the pack- unlike she had to the Issor already. With a sharp intake of breath through sharpened ivory teeth, Lyris built up the courage to take a look at her damaged shoulder. She hadn't yet- and wasn't looking forward to it. Slowly, the youngster turned her head, evergreen eyes lowering to a horribly injured, ugly tear in the otherwise flawless white fur. She didn't wince nor even freeze- instead she examined, keeping her emotions bottled up for the moment. Flesh was horribly torn, whilst ugly blood-matted fur hung grotesquely by small strands of skin. A small amount of yellow discharge had begun to leak from the center- oh great. How was she supposed to clean this off. Options began to run through her head- churning in one big mixing pot of ideas. Packs had healers, right? Well, maybe... she wasn't so sure-

The scent shot into her nostrils, and in an instant the she was on her feet. Swiveling, eyes locked onto the disheveled figure of X'yrin. Though the auburn female hadn't seemed to have noticed Lyris.

"X'yrin." the youth uttered softly, dropping her head and pulling her ears back in a quick submissive gesture.

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X'yrin Exultare

09-22-2012, 12:07 AM

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ooc:

Sept. 20th | Secui Form | Exhausted and Wild-looking

…as her muzzle lowered, she caught a glimpse of white within the dulling gilded fields. A scent entangled with a cool wind touched her nostrils but was registered as little more than the aroma of the field. Heavy and sweet with the scent of the Family amidst the fragrance of the late blossoms and the clear snap of the autumn chill. Though tired, her lips managed a smile in pride for the scent that covered the land. Though it came in wafts instead of lingering due to the few that tread out this far as of late, her breast still swelled, greedily taking in the wonderful smell.

Then she paused suddenly, ears erected at the sound of a timid voice. So she had seen white within the field! Her head snapped around twisting loose strands of red to see young Lyris on her own presumably at leisure. The show of respect to the Nomad Shepard was warming and was quickly received with a short whine to relax. After all, it was the Issor that had stumbled on the young female and felt no reason to keep her at attention. The she-wolf sounded the young female’s name quietly using only the feral tongue to keep with her practice. Her meeting with the mute wolf had left quite an impression on her, and inspired the Nomad to reclaim what was drifting further from their kind now quickly progressing toward more…human-like lifestyles. She expressed her pleasure in seeing the girl with tongue extended as she approached, whining happily as she fondly graced an ear. But coming closer to her now, the female could smell what festered within her opened wound. The sickly, sweet smell associated with infection.

'Ailment…'but that was a far as her voice alone to carry her before it became necessary to say something other. “Young one, you are infected,” the Nomad took a step back to better see the yellow of the wound. Her brows furrowed with concern as she bravely inched her nose toward it, quivering as if to find something more than the overpowering sweet scent. “This needs to be taken care of or else you will fall ill. Are you feeling warm yet? Does the wound burn?” She inquired, hoping to gain an idea of just how much the wound was festering…and how far from sickness the young one was. Hopefully no drastic steps would need to be taken.

402 words.

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Lyris Stryder

09-22-2012, 02:29 PM

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Word Count :: 245

OOC :: --

A silent breath unraveled from Lyris's lips in relief. Her coiled muscles relaxed somewhat, and she returned her ears, lifting her head. She was relaxed, now able to meet her Issor's eyes for brief moments at a time. Warmth blossomed through her chest as the wounded canine noted X'yrin's motherly welcome. One of the young one's worst fears had been a totalitarian leader, one that demanded extreme submission and worked you hard to the bone. This alpha was as far from that as you could get.

"X'yrin," She repeated, breathlessly. "...Burn? No, though it feels... hot and sticky." She decided, screwing up her eyes. Heat radiated off the wound as the sun beat down. No, it didn't burn. Though it was painful and warm. It was only a matter of time before the flies began to notice and circle the revealing flesh. Though what could she do about it?

Lyris warily stood, favoring her right arm in fear of only damaging it more with applying pressure. Her face had minimal damage, as it had already mostly healed into an ugly scar. It only looked terrible because it hadn't yet been cleaned well. The she-wolf then turned her eyes to X'yrin's figure, noting the mostly disheveled look of her auburn fur and slightly dirtied mane. She wasn't top notch, either. Though she looked ten times more presentable than Lyris did. Still, the new member wondered what was bothering the Issor. Perhaps she herself was ill?

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X'yrin Exultare

09-22-2012, 02:53 PM

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ooc:

Sept. 20th | Secui Form | Exhausted and Wild-looking

The conditions of the wound could have been worse than what was felt, but the woman had only the youth’s assessment to go on. Yet from her own experiences, she knew that what was not acknowledged tended to have greater consequences as time progressed. Especially when it came to wounds. The Nomad had not been satisfied by the girl’s response especially when she leaned to her opposite side whilst standing. And a bothered female was not a happy female especially one with brimming maternal instinct.

Gently the female took hold of the young one’s ear to get her moving toward the shores of the Aldarto’K. Trusting she would follow, she quickened her pace to a purposeful stride, hoping that in the course of their travel the wound would not somehow rupture suppurate.

She came to a pause when dulled claws touched the water smoothed stones of the shore. Glancing back to see the wounded youth, she then slipped into the cool waters til they gently lapped against umber pasterns. X’yrin stood there and waited whilst calling to the girl, “That feeling is ‘sickness’ settling in the wound. It needs to be cleaned away before it causes your shoulder to rot.” It was a terrifying possibility, but it was none the less the truth. “If you’d like, I can clean it for you. Unfortunately… to remove the ‘sickness’, the flesh with have to be taken away. It will bleed…and it will hurt…and it will scar. But it will heal and it will become healthy again as long as it is treated through the process.”

263 words.

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Lyris Stryder

09-22-2012, 03:27 PM

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Word Count :: 423

OOC :: --

Lyris could see the gears in X'yrin's head turning. The way she critically examined the festering wound and matched it up with reasonable action. The injured female just stood there, warily placing her paw on the ground but not putting even an ounce of pressure there. The muscle felt as if it would tear or rip if it was too harshly used.

A tap of the ear was all she needed as initiative. Lyris felt as if she was going to fall asleep if she stood in the heat too much longer. Legs moved and she loped easily forward, though it was a bit jerky from exhaustion and by avoiding too much strain of her wound. Sinewy limbs easily folded forward and back, soft fur moving over tight muscles like a ribbon of water over rock. At last, the shimmering water of Aldarto'K reflected upon the glassy surfaces of evergreen eyes, and sweet relief for her stinging pads rolled up her paws as she splashed into the chilled lake. Biting back a groan, the female waded a bit deeper, until the crystal liquids were lapping at her chest. Gingerly, Lyris dropped her shoulder, and cool waters licked at the hot wound. It stung a bit, but not enough for the female to cry out or even wince. The water was like her mother's tongue, scooping away all pain and replacing it with sugary sweet relief.

Deep-set eyes turned to the fiery amber ones of X'yrin as the authority spoke. Well, that sounded quite terrible. All of these words of rot, and bleeding, and pain, and removing of the sickness. But Lyris's poker face was back on, and she nodded quietly, eyes glittering. As long as her shoulder would heal and she would be able to run and walk as she once could, she would do anything. A little bit of pain was a small sacrifice in return for her graceful movements. "Alright." It was just a single word, but it portrayed her feelings easily, like an electric charge from the wall socket to the cord. Simple but so complicated. Lashes lowered to cheeks as Lyris blinked down at the glassy surface of the water.

A strange face stared back at her. It had her white fur, and her dark eyes, and her overly large ears, but a horrible bloody interruption marred all of the features. She would never rid herself of that scar. And she was about to gain another one.

So this is what you get for trying to survive.

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X'yrin Exultare

09-22-2012, 03:55 PM

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ooc:

Sept. 20th | Secui Form | Exhausted and Wild-looking

A scar was but a representation of one’s will to survive. Proof of their struggle and their ability to overcome it. The larger the scar, the more grand the feat. At least, this was how the Exultare appraised the wounds that adorned their bodies since their puppyhood. The Issor’s own were well concealed by her full autumn coat and overtime they had moved and shrank, just as the still growing body of the young one’s would as well.

But this she would not share with the girl, firmly believing that time and experience would demonstrate it better. Instead as Lyris said a single word of understanding, the Nomad came closer with tongue extended harmlessly to begin the arduous task of raking away the dried blood and puss. It began slowly, the first lick coming swiftly but with a margin of time between the next to allow the shoulder to adjust to the pressure. With each lick, her muzzle dipped into the water to ‘clean’ it then brought the refreshed flesh up again to continue its rough cleansing. X’yrin worked externally around the edges of the wound until pristine white took the place of decaying red. Occasionally her fur would be marred again but with lively droplets as the more tarnished flesh was nipped away, bit by bit. Then when she came to the suppuration, she allowed her patient a moment to breath before grating her tongue purposefully across the center.

The laps became quickly with little pause between dips in the lake and back to the wound. For both their sakes, her as the nurse taking the infection onto her own tongue, and Lyris her pained and determined patient, she hurried as best as she was able making certain the area of operation was cleansed of dead flesh and blood before digging deeper to pull free the yellowing mess. And with a final dip of her muzzle into the lake, the last bit of grime and puss flowing away by gentle ripples, she was done and the flesh was clean. The internal edges of the wound were still inflamed, but it was with a healthy red glow as opposed to a sickly dark and yellow hue. X’yrin looked at her work with a curious tilt of her head then hummed softly. “Well…perhaps it will not scar as badly…” there was only relief in her voice at this realization. “But your shoulder will have to be wrapped for a few days, and your activities will have to be limited.” Despite what one would look at as a helpless situation, the woman smiled at her patient, attempting a more…optimistic view. “Suppose this means you will have to help me with a few crafting projects. Would you call yourself creative, Lyris?”

458 words.

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Lyris Stryder

09-22-2012, 06:24 PM

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Word Count :: 565

OOC :: --

X'yrin might have saw scars that way, but Lyris saw them another. To her, it was representation of a fight you had lost, or a reaction too late. The forever scar adorning her features would be a reminder of the canine's inability to react, save her family, and even herself. If she had just scented the beast before the plundered right into its cold claws...

The sharp rasp of a tongue sliced through her thoughts, returning her attention to the need at hand. The first swipe over the delicate wound brought a wince to her throat. It was small, though it still escaped. Now that she was prepared, the she-wolf placed her own tongue between ivory teeth, refusing to let another cry escape. It was painful, yes. The flesh hadn't been touched for days and it had only grown more sensitive. As the dirtied and damage skin was peeled away fresh blood seeped, leaking further and further into her powder-white fur. Yet, with each tender, cleansing stroke, Lyris could sense more of the infection fading, pulled away with the soft tongue of the Issor. In the pause before the more intense cleaning Lyris only blinked, dropping her head a millimeter to gaze at the clear water and brace herself for the next onslaught.

Ow. The thought pulsed as strobe lights through her head, but the only indication of pain she gave was harsh flick of overly large ears. She trundled through it bravely, determined not to show weakness. She wouldn't whine or cry over such a small thing like a child, no, she refused to. She was nine months old, not two.

After the last gentle caress had come and gone, Lyris opened her evergreen eyes which had been screwed tight, raising her slender neck to blink up at X'yrin. The wound stung a little, but it was already feeling better. Lyris dipped her shoulder back into the water for a moment, just to rid any leftover dirt of blood that had been remaining, and to relieve herself of the stinging. Then she brought it back up and pressed her gray pads lightly against the lake floor. A sigh escaped her lips- one of finished relief- at least that was over. Now she listened to the Exultare speak, eyes thankful. "Thank you," She said, truly grateful for the trouble she had gone to in healing her.

Creative? Was Lyris creative? That she thought about briefly. What had she done as she traveled through the wilderness, searching for a new home? She had followed a fluttering leaf, or maybe a sing-song bird, for lack of real direction. Instead of picking and choosing some way to go, she had been creative, and let nature lead her with its hidden messages, per say. And in her old pack, Lyris had always been the one to come up with a fun game to play with the other pups. But would she consider herself crafty and creative?

Lyris wasn't one to pick out her strengths- she was pretty down to earth and let others do that, graciously thanking them for their kind words. But now she needed to reply. Slanting eyes raised to meet those of the Issor, and she firmly shook her head once, a small, soft smile playing at her lips. X'yrin was like a mother to her, and so far, her only friend.

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X'yrin Exultare

#10

09-22-2012, 07:01 PM

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ooc:

Words of gratitude were unnecessary, but were taken with a delicate smile none the less. A hint of guilt touched her lips, however, caused by the pain knowingly invoked upon the youth in order to clean her wounds. The Nomad was not found of causing pain, even a necessary one. It reminded her all too familiarly of a time when such acts were not marked as unpleasant by other Nomads…but the rite of a name as a mandatory skill to be learned and mastered for the sake of the collective.

But such thoughts needn’t be brought up now. Her mind was better set on the sweet female before her, still brave in face with relief in her eyes. The Issor was impressed with her lacking show of pain, and was again taken back to her own family and their practices. Had their paths crossed with her still with the collective, she would have no doubt been taken for assessment and training. Her drenched tail wagged delightedly at the thought churning the grime and muck around them til it dissipated to naught. Perhaps the Ancestors had guided the young one to this moment; a gift for the Shepard without a student.

But it would seem the prospective student was not aware of her affinity toward creativity. Mayhap it was not exercised well enough to be noticeable by her, but the Nomad had a firm belief that all had some semblance of artistic prowess…even if it was not understood by all. Giggling softly at Lyris’s reply, she pushed herself through the water and leaned in to again catch a snowy ear between delicate teeth. “Well now…” her nose slid the length of the ear to bury her muzzle playfully within the soft base. “…you may not see yourself as such, but I am confident there is creativity within you waiting for the opportunity to show itself.” Gently she nudged Lyris toward sturdier ground so she too could part from the lake. A cascade of clear water fell from clumps of fur making for an odd sight of a top dry, bottom drenched female giggling madly as though all was right with her world. And as far as she was concerned, oh, it very well was! “Come with me young Lyris!” she exclaimed with eager steps forward, fighting back fatigue with what energy she could muster. “Let us wrap your wounds so you can heal. And as you rest I shall unearth that creativity within you.”

412 words.

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Lyris Stryder

#11

09-22-2012, 08:27 PM

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Word Count :: 255

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What? Was that funny? The giggle that cascaded from X'yrin's slender jaws was unexpected. Apparently the Shepard thought otherwise of the young female's reply. Lyris saw some creativity within herself, but it didn't feel like enough for what the Issor was asking her to do. For such a highly ranked wolf's duties must require high-rank experience and abilities? Well, perhaps not. Yet Lyris was but a young girl, and she didn't see her full potential as a craftsman. But the snowy white female would go along with her leader, following her. She had to admit, the possibility of having something to do that would take her mind off her festering thoughts was quite the temptation.

At the auburn she-wolf's warm nuzzle, Lyris blinked, lowering lashes to cheeks and letting a half-smile paint her muzzle. X'yrin saw her potential. So at her tug, the youngster turned on her heels and exited from the cool waters, shaking out her wet pelt in an attempt to release the cold droplets that clung there. She couldn't help but almost laugh at X'yrin's giggly enthusiasm. A small smile was plastered to her features as the now clean she-wolf trotted after the female, nails clicking across the smooth shoreline rocks. This was a good pack for her. A good place. She could easily live here. And the young one wouldn't forget the task she had been given by the mysterious gray and white wolf. She would take care of X'yrin, even though it seemed that X'yrin was more taking care of her.

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