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As he wandered the broken streets, an eerie feeling set in as if somewhere in the backdrop of noises he could hear the remnants of cars honking and people talking. The once lively city had succumbed to this; and now only lonely animals and curious luperci seemed to wander the abandoned streets and dilapidated boulevards. Nature was reclaiming what was rightfully her own, and the building’s were nothing more than crumbling reminders of what had been. He wondered if the humans had seen any of this coming – did they now how tragically and quickly their race would falter to almost absolute nothing?
He carried his bag slung over his shoulder – his emergency medical supply, if you will. He was hoping on restocking some of the materials he had used for treating Naniko’s wounds just in case of another emergency. He hadn’t paid much attention to his medical studies lately, but he hoped to advance them in the near future. He had a knack for that sort of thing, but it had been placed on a back burner with Shadowed Sun’s disbanding and all.
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Sorry for the gross wait on this, ugh. Life has been kicking me in the balls that I don't have. ._.
[html] Scouring the city was a habit ingrained in her from years ago. Whether it was for fun or necessity never really mattered, Corona always found something useful. Today she was rummaging through the shelves of a pharmacy, recalling names for pills and what they did as though it were second nature to her. In some cases it was, her interest in life had started in death. From a washed-up body on the shores of Inferni to when her aunt had burnt to death in every literal sense, somewhere along the way she had picked up the interest. In France, that had been doubled because over there, things were better. Things were preserved, the Luperci who maintained things there had an appreciation and lust for what man had done before them. Doctors, sailors, butchers, and farmers, all sorts of careers had sprung up.
Though whether or not that ever spread across the ocean was questionable. It was like the 1700s all over again; the Americas were full of savages and the rest of the world was making interesting leaps and bounds. She stopped her perusing for a moment to scratch absently at the bandage on her arm, bothered greatly by the healing wounds there. She had been tending to it well, but not even Corona could escape the fact that when something healed, it itched. She was simply glad that it was only her arm that had gotten the worse of the damage—the cut on her face had healed entirely—and before too long, she was back to turning over bottles and reading the names along their sides. [/html]
Apparently I lost the memo that said replying to threads a month later is not cool. XD[html]
He dropped the bag to the ground, mindful that the crumbled concrete could possibly break some of the containers, yet too apathetic to take any precaution. Outside the buildings sat a metal bench, rusted to a deep mahogany color more appropriate if it had been constructed of wood. It stained his white fur, but he hardly noticed. Instead, he absentmindedly traced the lightening bolt tattooed on his wrist and studied the buildings on the opposite side of the deteriorating street.
He knew the word from one of the books he had read – one of the ones that had been wrapped in animal skins and hidden on the dirt shelves of Shadowed Sun’s under tree library. It was a medical place of some sort, but he didn’t remember exactly what. Either way, it spiked his interest. It would most likely be the ideal place for Pilot to refill his emergency medical bag.
He paused just outside the store, staring up at the large red letters which once spelled out pharmacy. A vowel and a few consonants were missing, but a permanent dark shadow of what had once hung there lingered on the wall. The bag, which he had once again slung over his shoulder, clunk gently as some of the bottles bumped one another. The sound seem amplified in the still air of the store as he stepped inside.
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Lmfao, don't feel too bad. I've got so much stress in my life right now that I can't focus 98% of the time. x_x
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The sound of glass against glass was almost like the sound of ringing bells from an opening door, but even if she hadn't heard those bottles beating against each other, she had already heard the sound of toenails against concrete and the creak of the heavy door into the pharmacy. She had stopped mid reach for a bottle of pills, leaning and peering carefully around the edge of the bookcases-turned-pill holsters until she had caught sight of the fair-haired, monochromatic wolf in the doorway. “You here for a fix or are you a healer?” she asked in all seriousness. She was tense, but only because of what he was and her new founding track record with getting attacked by foolish creatures. Corona didn't make any move for any objects she had with her that could have been used as a weapon, instead waiting to see how he would react first. True to her divided nature, all were held innocent until proven guilty.
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Agreed.[html]
He squinted at the lack of light, as if in disapproval. The voice, however, shot his gaze directly towards the Inferni member. He could tell that that was what she was – there was a particular scent associated with them. "A healer," he responded dully, turning his gaze away from her so that he could take in the pharmacy to its full glory. Rows upon rows of medicines glittered on the shelves just waiting for prying hands to rob them. He took a few steps forward, letting his bag drop to the floor, before standing at the end of one of the countless rows of shelves. Mostly, everything looked rather foreign. "What about you?" He asked, stepping towards a shelf and lifting away a bottle to examine its contents and yellowing label.
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Corona studied his expression for a moment, as though she were trying to decide whether or not his answer was an honest one or not. He didn't seem like the kind who would be robbing a pharmacy for a fix, but in that day and age she didn't put anything past anyone. For a moment they observed each other and he looked away, leaving her to study the subtle contours of his face for a moment more, before returning to her gathering. “I'm a healer too,” she answered without hesitation, squinting at the text on a poorly printed label. “Are you here gathering things to fight off the illness that's bugging that new pack?” She imagined word was getting around by now, or at least she hoped so. The more irons in the fire, the better.
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"Not exactly," he offered, turning a bottle over in his hands. The glass felt oddly cool between his fingers, and the label had turned a light butterscotch color with time. The name written on it was foreign to him: ipecac syrup. He placed the bottle back onto the shelf, avoiding shards of broken glass on the floor as he moved further down the aisle. "Personal use, actually," he divulged, casting his silver gaze back towards her direction. Though he supposed he wasn’t one to judge, he thought it interesting that she was here to help out Esper Hollow. "Though I did hear word of it. Plenty of them are infected it seems." He knelt on one knee, inspecting the containers on the lower shelves. "D’you know what it is?"
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*insert previous excuse*
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She huffed a small laugh at his mention that plenty of them were sick. “If you call three plenty, then yeah, I guess so,” but as an afterthought, “or are there more outside of that pack? I know the ones there are isolated from everyone else, but I haven't the faintest idea what it is that they have. I've been reading through old textbooks that belonged to the humans, but they have varying symptoms.” Brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she listened to his movements from the other side of the shelf.
“They've had seizures, hallucinations, vertigo, can barely keep anything down as it is. Chills too, from what I've gathered. It's like they have the flu, but it isn't. One of them — the first one to get sick — is comatose now.” She kept her emotions under lock and key, but even from the professional side of her knowledge, she knew what she listed didn't even sound good.
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We are so good.[html]
He listened to her intently while he absentmindedly let his fingers move over other bottles along the shelves. He didn’t know the number of how many were sick, but it seemed Corona was much more involved. Or at least, someone had brought her up to speed on the illness that had arisen. In Pilot’s view, three was three too many. Now that he knew some of what they were dealing with, perhaps he would be able to find out more in some of his books he had back in his den.
He picked up one of the bottles, and made his way around the shelf and down the aisle that Corona had been looking through. "Have you seen them?" He asked, wondering if this information was by word of mouth or from experience. "It sounds bad. I want to be able to help, if I can." He paused to think about that. The only way to help would be to find some sort of cure. Anything else would be futile.
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I know, right? :| *ends this*
[html] “Yeah, I have,” she responded absently, focused more over a bottle of iodine and wondering if she would really need it or not. “And if you can help, it would be appreciated. I think they'll need whoever they can get to help.” She thought against taking it with her, and set it back on the shelf before gathering up her bag and rising to her feet. And for the purpose of ending a thread that is so mouldy and ancient because the writers have lives that throw rocks at them, the two spoke at length about the illness and their symptoms before eventually and ultimately coming up with the answer to it and curing the afflicted. [/html]
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