Even though their reunion had been cut short, she doesn’t lose
@Libeccio in the glen. It does not take much to earn his help, at least for a while, and with two rabbits in tow between them, she makes the trek further south. By now, the sun hangs high in the air before it begins its descent and she worries
@Kitsch will have woken in a panic. She left her in a light slumber, assuring her that she’d be back soon, but the time alone in such a state causes her legs to trot a little faster than she really has the control for.
West weaves through the forest with her brother in tow but, eventually, she comes to a stop when she’s near. Through a mouthful of herbs, she turns her head to the side and waves him back a few steps so that she does not overwhelm the traumatized girl and covers the rest of the distance alone. While she knows the forest enough to come and go as she pleases, finding something specific tends to be a little trickier and she localizes the girl’s scent until she’s upon her.
“Kitsch?” she murmurs once she drops the selected herbs at her feet and covers the distance until she’s near the tired girl.
“I need to tell you something.”
Like the dutiful and kind brother he is, Libeccio followed West from the glen to the woods with two sizeable rabbits dangling from his jaws. He hadn't struggled to catch them, but he didn't have any question as to why West failed to do so. It was just her nature; pleasure first, and all. He got the sense that she'd been too long away because by the time they reach the woodland, the tawny man is covering the distance at a brisk jog just to keep up.
Together they twine and weave through the undergrowth until she shoots him a look that brings him to an immediate halt. His brows shoot up in surprise for a split-second, before knitting together with irritation as she motions for him to stay. Libeccio frowned, not liking the directive for someone who so brazenly shrugged off the the mantle of leader not a few short hours ago. But he does as she wishes and curls his haunches beneath him while she vanishes into the brush.
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Kitsch was aware of the auspicious implausibility of West finding her but refused to recognize it. As far as the lissome pearl was concerned, the wilds were ablaze with hellfire; setting fire to anything that was inherently good and destroying it with alacrity… and she was not totally wrong, but for now West shielded her from the worst of it from within the heartwood. Kitsch knew she felt something like gratitude for her circumstances with the healer, but found herself unable to acknowledge any good fortune whatsoever. Melancholy leeched the energy from her body, already spent from the efforts of rehabilitation and most of her interminable days were spent listlessly plastered against the deciduous floor — a sorry sight to see, made more disturbing since Kitsch had never been one to wear her emotions on her sleeve. At that moment, those days after him, she had not the energy nor the wherewithal to build any sort of facade.
There was no need for West to entertain anxieties about Kitsch waking, for girl was in the throes of a torpid, dreamless sleep — the deep kind of dormancy only experience by the truly exhausted. Her wounded soul settled in the shell of her body, breathing in quick and shallow huffs, until she stirred from her sleep by West’s analgesic voice. As the older woman manifested beneath the heartwood’s foliage, Kitsch looked up, eyes half-lidded and empty. If she moved too much, she risked reopening the tattered wounds upon withers, so she remained inert and lateral. West had some news and the ingenue nodded apprehensively — and suddenly, she was worried that West would announce her departure, leaving her to the mercy of these stygian wilds like he had... like everyone had.
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There isn’t much reaction from Kitsch but she does not blame her. While her physical wounds are mostly superficial and nothing that time and medicine can’t take care of, the rest of them will take more time to heal. There’s a worry that the pale girl is too far gone but it is the early days and she isn’t going to give up; if she can at least make her feel better, she can get her on the right track and propel her forward. The worry that Libeccio may set her back a step or two, she knows she has to take the risk. She can’t do this without an extra hand and she’s determined the Caldera is simply out of the equation.
“I brought some things to help and something to eat,” she says and she glances over her shoulder. She can’t see her brother from where she stands but she does not call for him right away. There are no rabbits in her possession now and she doesn’t want to deny her the meal. “I… well. I ran into my brother while I was out and he caught two rabbits,” she explains, then turns back to chuff in the direction she came to pull her brother closer—easy.
Libeccio isn't fond of waiting by any definition, but he obeys West for lack of a reason not to. But he isn't left stranded for long. She signals for him to come, but it is laced with caution. He sighs, out of earshot, before following in his sister's footsteps until he is on the very fringes of the little hovel. West stands near her friend who appears, at first glance, a little dazed and more than a little concerned. But he finds his attention drawn to the curious dark marks dotting her brows, the tips of her ears, paws, and her tail. He blinks, realizing he can't recall a time he's ever seen such unusual markings and allows his gaze to linger a little longer than necissary.
But he's reminded of his task by the taste of blood on his tongue from the two rabbits hanging from his mouth. He slowly creeps forward and deposits them somewhere off West's flank before lingering there, body language neutral, and ears splayed submissively. "I intend no harm." He said softly, more for Kitsch's benefit than anything else. Sure, he had no way of proving it, but he had no desire to impart further damage upon the dove.
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West wasn’t abandoning her yet, but the information she shared did not thrill the listless wastrel. “Your brother?” she questioned softly but time did not grant her the luxury of a response; the next moment her kepple gaze was torn to glimpse at the brute who stepped forth. Libeccio held no resemblance to him, but his potent sense masculinity was enough. Kitsch flexed her toes against the ground, prepared to push her broken body up from the earth and away from the assailant if the need arise. Her jaw clenched, teeth pressing against one another and for a moment a barely perceptible whine skated against her vocal chords, evincing her apprehension and desire for him to stay a good distance away. and why wouldn’t he? The stracciatella girl was the princess of Saoi Baile, deserving of the utmost respect — oh, who was she kidding? Kitsch was no one.
“h-hi,” she greeted, biting her lip and looking nervously back towards West. She wanted West to confirm his words, that he would indeed mean her no harm. Hadn’t he made the same, silent promise to her when he breathed into her ear and nibbled at her fur and made her feel special? He had given her the promise of happiness [or was that the poppy that had clouded her mind?], only to rip it away from her. If he could do so, anyone could do so… Except her savior, West — and West would never betray her… right?
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All in the same go, Kitsch questions her and Libeccio shows up around the thickened trees with rabbits in tow. Her own stomach speaks of hunger but she does not go for them, turning back to see how the girl responds. The tension between the three of them rises but she does not encourage or dismantle the anxiety building in her little flower. Her brother speaks his lack of intention and Kitsch gives him a quiet greeting and the introduction goes just about as well as she expects.
"His name is Libeccio," she tells her after a moment. The reunion with her brother had been brief prior and it may take time for Kitsch to warm up to him but they have enough of it. She doesn’t have to go south anymore and she can do what she needs here and for a while, they can take care of one another.
West leans back and picks up both rabbits by their ears and tugs them close, nudging one closer to the fallen girl and leaving the extra for a moment in case she wanted it too. She can find her own food if both are taken—or she can send Libeccio off for another—but in the meantime she settles herself on the ground. “I’d been attacked when I first got here by some psychotic bitch,” she comments idly, recollecting the day easily. There’d been no warning, no reasoning; West had not committed a crime that day but she’d still taken a beating anyway. “Kitsch came across and helped me.”
Her pause is but only a moment, glancing to her brother to see his expression, but she moves on and refocuses on the injured girl. “I have a few things for you,” she says and pauses. She goes through each one, she points to the respective plant: “Something for pain, for your stomach, and this one for inflammation, but,” she hesitates with uncertainty, “it has to be applied topically.”
Libeccio understands the severity of the situation almost immediately, from the way Kitsch responds to his presence (despite how out of reach he is). He remains firmly rooted in place as West explains for her benefit, as well as his own, and doesn't move to help his sister when she reaches back to grab the two rabbits. She pushes one towards the girl—Libeccio looks away from her to give her what little privacy and security he can offer. West's explaination does draw a smirk from Libeccio and he nods at his sister—it doesn't surprise him that she'd gotten into a scuffle, but he did question exactly what led to it in the first place.
The russet male settles himself down until his chest kisses the ground, and rolls half onto his side so he can stretch his limbs out more comfortably. He takes up the role of sentry—one ear remains fixated on the girls, while his eyes slowly begin to drift over the surrounding forest. He had no business intervening in West's attempts at helping Kitsch; he'd done what little he could already.
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The man made no movements to get nearer to her which gave Kitsch a small sense of relief. West gave his name and the pearl repeated it several in her mind. Libeccio. Giving him a name made him seem more… real, and less like the nameless, shrouded man from times past. The miasma of apprehension slowly fell away, as Kitsch nurtured a rather trusting and naive soul, but not completely. Often Kitsch wondered if it she would ever be completely free of her fear; but at least it was lessened in the presence of her two guardians.
The siblings offered her one of the two rabbits and she drew it forth tenderly, holding the soft, limpid body of the rabbit between her ink dipped paws. The girl’s sense of hunger had been fleeting since the attack, and nibbled upon it as she listened to West recount the tale of their fated meeting all those months ago. Kitsch gummed the carcass more than she truly ate it, tasting the flesh in her mouth without actually consuming it — at least she could save it for later, when the subtle cravings did creep upon her. Sharing the un-gnawed parts did not really cross her overindulged mind, even though one of the others might go hungry. It was a gift, wasn't it?
Kitsch raised her maw, licking the saltiness from her lips. “Too many psychos around here,” she said, a feeble attempt at a joke and clearly referencing her own incursion as well as West’s. The madonna remembered the day well, partially because West had been the first extremely injured wolf she had ever seen [sights such had customarily been shielded from the delicate eyes of the princess] and partially because West had introduced her to the healing properties of willow and poppy and something else with small white flowers; sparking a small desire to become pupil of the healing arts. As a matter of fact…
“Do you have any more of the… stuff? Kitsch asked West sotto voce, with a glance back towards the reclining Libeccio. She hadn’t a taste of poppy since that fated afternoon — hadn’t wanted to — but if the application of her medicines absolutely had to happen, she might as well be relaxed for it. Plus West seemed fond of the plant, so it didn’t seem too out of the question.
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Libeccio eases into a comfortable spot on the ground while West puts her attention on the girl, idly listening to her comment though she doesn’t expect a reply from her brother. She glances up with distracted emerald eyes and a soft shush from her lips. She begins to separate the herbs laid out before her as the girl asks for something and West knows exactly what she wants. However, the woman does not give the girl what she wants with an indifferent shrug instead.
“Eat first,” she tells her when she notes there is not much interest in the prey. Libeccio worked hard to catch them for someone he doesn’t even know. “Then I’ll give you the yellow ones again,” she adds. For now, separating her from the poppy is in her best (and carefully planned) interest.
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West kept the goods to herself — as she often did — and Kitsch could not help but let out a small sigh at the stipulations required. Eat. It was all she had to do in order to achieve that release, the warm-softness-loveliness that resulted from West’s medicines, but her belly protested and lurched at the thought of consumption. Still, Kitsch drew the rabbit back towards her and tore small strips of flesh from the carcass. Her eyes watched West as she organized her stores, imbibing her movements and trying to recognize patterns in her filing. Every so often, her attention jumped back to Libeccio, ensuring that he stayed full in view.
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