Wolf RPG

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staying vague; set after the battle

worse for wear, they had decamped to the sound, torn by countless cliffwolf teeth, and missing at least one of their fellows. but he had been a fool, his blood a sacrifice that bought rusalka time to gather in drageda. for nothing, the harlot thought grimly, for rosalyn still was not among them, and they had suffered only agonies.
caiaphas was grimly wounded, and while erzulie had little doubt the resolute seawitch would carry on regardless, it would be at cost. she herself bore a dozen lacerations across throat and nape and muzzle, though the worst she had undergone was the savaging of her left haunch, the muscle laid bare. 
across the sands she limped to douse it again in icy brine; in her muzzle she gripped what little was left of her supplies, intending to treat whoever was upon the shoreline with poultices and her precious poppyseeds. but it would run out long before they were healed; therefore, she must ask for wolves to depart their land and seek out the necessary plants: no small feat with drageda lurking.
for now, the jezebel grit her teeth against the lash of the salt and led the leap of tears be for her broken lover, still somewhere in the cliffs.
hope u don't mind that i take this... i noticed it wasn't getting love

the boy was hurt worse than he had been before in his life. his limbs ached with the weight of his frame, and he quivered unsteadily on them if he stood still for too long. in spite of his pain, illidan did what he could to tend to their borders and to protect the land that they had claimed. he feared that the wolves on the cliff would not cease in their brutal strikes against them. he did not want to give them an opening from which they could take the life from rusalka.
 
thinking that the water would do him well, the young ghost turned his attention toward the lapping waves and limped there to tend to his wounds. that was where he caught sight of the woman with the dark face and kind eyes. he feared approaching her for several reasons. the boy had not listened to her when she had instructed him to lead the others back. he had been blinded by his rage – by the betrayal of his brother – and had cast her instruction aside. their attack had not resulted in anything more than injuries to their wolves. rosalyn was still held captive on the cliff.
 
so, illidan stood in the sands with his head low and his haunted gaze latched tightly to the woman by the sea. the length of his limbs quivered again, but he gritted his teeth against the aches that wracked his frame and held his ground.
not at all <3 <3 <3

the pressure of eyes were upon her, and though erzulie did not wish to turn, she did so all the same. illidan, watching her with a tormented expression. guilt rose like bile to choke her; this war had been partly on her behalf, though she doubted caiaphas would have caved to drageda under any circumstances.
from this distance, the boy seemed as if he were trembling, but the harlot could not be certain, and so, with an agonized gait, she made her way toward him. so young, to be rent by the teeth of the cliffside curs! she hated them all, and it would burn within her belly until she died.
"illidan," erzulie murmured as she drew near. she felt now the agony wreathing from him; her expression lit with a somberness. "we should find shelter. and rest, de bot' of us." they could not remain exposed, compromised as they were, and she looked to him searchingly, to see if he understood.
she turned to him with an expression that caused his chest to tighten and his heart to thrum in his chest with the anguish of his own guilt. how could they have failed to save the one she loved? was he really so useless? the more that he studied her, the more he felt as though he did not have the strength to face the disappointment she must have felt for their failure.

but, gods, how he hated the wolves on the cliffs. even more, that his own brother had found a bond with them and had fought against his family. ephraim deserved whatever life he had been granted with the disgusting savages; it was all his fault anyway, wasn't it? he decided to believe so, only because he was not certain how he would feel if he had been forced to face the consequences of his own actions.

when she made her way to him, she made mention that they should rest. he could not understand how they were supposed to lay low. how could he tend to himself when there was still a missing member of their pack? he searched her face, unable to decipher the feelings that lingered there. “how can we? when they sit up there... how can we do nothing?” he growled.
erzulie knew his worry, his anger, his pain. the rage that burned behind his young features. her own rage she had banked down into embers for now, but still their smoulder rose from time to time, choking her with such a conflagration of fury that she could scarcely breathe.
a moment; a shake of her muzzle. "we did much, illidan," the harlot murmured, her voice cracking. "we fought; we shed blood upon de cliffs. we earned dis lan'," she stated with a firmness she was only beginning to feel. "we can do no more den we already have done. for now," erzulie added, turning and beginning a limping gait along the strand, glancing back to see that he would follow. "let me treat your wounds."
that was all good and well, but what had they really done? if the cliff wolves wished, they could have descended upon rusalka and ravaged their already wounded frames. he did not imagine that their scuffle in drageda had amounted to much. she stated that they could do no more than what they had already done, but illidan did not feel as though they had done all that they could. he was enraged at the thought that they hadn’t given everything inside of them.
 
the young ghost was wounded, though. so, he followed after the woman without questioning her motives or arguing against her reasons. illidan may not have believed what she said to be true, but he did not need her to know it. he limped after her with a surly expression on his dark face. the jagged gash in his shoulder struggled against their trek.
they had lost one. it would not do well if they lost others, but she did not mention this to illidan again. instead, she led him slowly to where she had left her supplies, and turned toward her patient. his shoulder would need to be washed in the salt; with a glance sideways, erzulie stepped into the lap of the nearby waves.
gritting her teeth, unable to stop the hiss from rising in her throat, the harlot waded out of the saltwater and settled herself in a sodden curve over her gathered herbs. "i have somet'ing to bind de woun' and somet'ing for pain," she told the tall boy quietly. the application of the first would hurt, but he was already suffering — she would not allow him to be infected by the teeth of those who had torn his flesh.
loss was all that he had really known in his short life. having only recently found his family, the young ghost was keen on keeping them safe from any outside dangers. erzulie was included in this desperate need to guard; she had become part of his extended family by offering herself to rusalka. he could not quite speak to how he felt about their failure to retrieve rosalyn, but he felt as though the exotic woman understood regardless.

following her into the waters, the ghost inhaled sharply at the touch of the salt against his wounds. the vicious stinging sensation caused his limbs to quiver. he did not falter in his approach, though. instead, he waded after her and squinted at her words. “the pain is manageable,” he lied to her through gritted teeth. he did not want to take supplies from the others who would need them.
she did not believe illidan, but would not shame him in the face of their defeat. chewing damp kelp into a poultice, she began to smear it across his wounds, with a gentle deftness that bespoke her years of healing. the saltwater plant would draw poison into itself, she hoped.
long pieces of whole kelp were wrapped as tightly as she could manage around the worst of his wounds. when the leaves dried, they would tighten, holding the poultice across the lacerated flesh.
when at last she had finished, erzulie rocked back upon her torn haunch and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of the sea for a long moment.
the woman went to work on him, tending to the worst of his wounds first so that they would have her herbs on them longer, and making her way along his youthful frame. the young ghost stood with a cold expression planted on his features. his eyes searched their surroundings for anything that he might be able to talk about – anything that would release his mind from their mishap on the cliffs. all of that work and they hadn’t even gotten back what they’d gone in there to retrieve. how could erzulie be so calm and patient about all of it? why was it that he was the only one who was filled with such righteous wrath?
 
“aren’t you angry?” the ghost demanded of her with a glance to where she had wandered. the sharp burning of his yellow gaze did not leave her features. he wanted to know her expressions when she answered him. he wanted to understand what it meant to endure pain instead of letting it overcome. it was a tool that he would likely take years to master.
illidan received a sharp glance for his demand, rebuke shimmering in the mismatched eyes. "of course i am angry," erzulie growled, though her ire died as soon as it had come. she looked toward the cliffs then, where her lover remained trapped, and felt the workings of a deep bitterness rush through her veins.
"but i am not stupid. what could we gain by going against dem again and again, hmm?" the harlot inquired, meeting the boy's stare unflinchingly. "not'ing, and they might very well kill her for it." a sigh swelled her sides; pain raced through erzulie's body at the movement. "use de anger as a tool; harness it until it can be used. you saw what happened to eurycrates when he let his own get away from him."
i painted a target on my face for you to kick. you wanna fade this one and have a new one?? <3

he recoiled at the sharp answer that was given to him. he had not wished to rouse her this much. illidan knew that he wasn’t skilled with words in the same way that others were. he asked the wrong questions and assumed the worst in everyone. it made for a terrible conversationalist. if it weren’t for erzulie’s infinite patience, he likely would have gotten his snout scored a few times by an angry fang.
 
it was then that the woman steadied herself and offered him some sound advice. illidan looked at her with a searching expression. she was rational and calm in her explanation. she even referenced the one that they had lost in the battle on the cliffs. the dark-hooded young man nodded his head after a moment. he was not certain that he believed it fully, but he was not willing to test her limits.
 
“thank you for your help,” he then said in a soft voice, hoping that they could abandon the subject of war altogether.
ur face is too radiant to ever kick! and certainly :3

"of course." she too had wearied of the topic, and glancing into his bereft features, erzulie began to talk of other things. sprinkling a smattering of the elegant old tongue, she plied grim illidan with stories that tiptoed around the trade of her youth until, at last, she drew from the boy a half-smile.