@The Listener or anybody else leader or otherwise
hope this is okay, let me know if not!
on their shores in the dead of night, a body.
sputtering saltwater before shallow breaths dug into their sides. eyes remained close, willfully blind to the pain that had been wrought upon their body. hindquarters screamed for relief, for the pressure of their own weight to be suspended by anything but their own form. the scratches along were fresh, cleansed by saltwater but still kissed by stinging pain for it.
finally, ice eyes opened.
staring into an abyss of the unknown.
prends moi maintenant, they willed to silent gods.
night found her restless. her heat was driving her mad; for the most part, she had isolated. she trailed up and down the coastline in part for a distraction. on her way back, she saw a form across the sand.
organic.
swiftly she drew close with concern for the creature's ragged breaths. can you speak?
they hated it.
they hated the salt that burned their lungs, their eyes, their tender fleshed haunches.
they hated the summons to speak, they hated hated hated.
but yet they softened in the face of the woman, their perfume softened the air of salt. an island of sirens had discovered them, they thought. to ask such silly things and draw the sea air with seasonal scents.
if they had wished to speak, they couldn't do it in that moment, too dried by the sea brine they had soaked in for some time.
a soft croak.
iced eyes looking with a silent plead.
the dark creature's frantic gaze pierced her heart.
you do not have to speak.
she approached tentatively, closing the space between them now. it was unlikely the washed up stranger had the energy to fight, though she acted with great caution lest she be met with a flurry of fangs. she noticed the deep gouges in their thighs and grimaced.
she tilted her head back and called first for
@The Listener, and then for
@Bridget before beginning to clear the wounds of sand.
prends moi maintenant.
prends moi maintenant.
prends moi maintenant.
over and over until their mind was nothing more than the useless mantra. silence would greet them every time, no god or spirit whispered comforting nothings. the only thing they had was this siren and whoever it was she had called for.
shameful and guilty, their eyes clenched tightly as they looked away from the cleaning of their own wound. winced through tightened teeth.
every coil of tension in their muscles only heightened every ache they felt.
they would not die, at most they would scar and this would only further agitate worn hips. the coming days would not be filled with kindness to theirself.
Bridget came to the call as quickly as she could. By the time she arrived, Cerulean was already taking care of the stranger. She smiled gratefully at her packmate, but the expression faded to professional seriousness as she took in the sorry state of the wolf in the sand.
Lacerations that would need treating, likely exhaustion and malnutrition, potentially even inhaled water if they had washed onto the shore. She'd need to check their breathing.
There was no need to ask what had happened, it was obvious. I have something for those, once you're done. Don't worry, we'll have you patched up in no time.
The second she addressed to the wolf whose name she didn't know yet. She was making a pretty big assumption, but as far as Bridget knew, they'd never turned a wolf who needed help away yet. We'll need to get you somewhere a little drier, though. Here.
While Cerulean worked on the wounds, Bridget began to work through their pelt, getting the worst of the water and grit from it. It was still early in the spring and illness was a danger as well.
she was relieved when bridget made her appearance. though cerulean knew how to render first aid, she was not confident in her abilities to do more than that and this was a situation she had never seen before. she did not take issue with bridget's assumption. they can't speak right now,
she informed the acolyte, though perhaps that much was obvious.
they're small. i think between the two of us, we can get them further inland.
it was uncomfortable to talk about them while they were right there, but what was to be done about it?
welcomed to any powerplay ofc <3
they wanted to cry.
they wanted to weep and tear theirself apart, to curse any and all gods for giving them such a tiresome body with faulty parts that only served to betray.
another woman arrived, one who also tended to their worn body. they could only offer sad sounds of gratefulness. eyes remained squeezed shut, prepared for them to be moved to another strange place and prepping theirself for the eventual pain that would grip them like the hand of god.
They wouldn't be getting a name or a goal out of this wolf.... (a strange looking wolf) now. They were clearly grateful and Bridget wondered what was preventing them from speaking. Either way, she'd have time to see about sorting through that. There was no need to rush it.
Thanks.
Bridget might have managed it herself, but not as carefully as she needed to. With Cerulean's help they could get the stranger somewhere warmer and treat them without the tide threatening at length.
We'll have to let the Listener know, I imagine?
Not like she wouldn't accept them. If they'd taken Harka they'd take about anyone.
Bridget would take their nape if Cerulean could support their lower half. Together they could bring them to the place where Morgana had watched her, one that she'd essentially taken over after the other woman had vacated it to have her children. Once there she would treat any visible wounds and give them something to help with the pain. Hopefully it would allow them to sleep some of this exhaustion off and to heal as they did so.
this can be my last if we want to fade!
*creaks* sry
she acknowledged bridget's gratitude with only a soft hum as she moved to help, and it was not long before they had dragged the poor creature's body further inland. she stood by and helped bridget where she was asked, then left to tell
@The Listener of their new arrival.