Āzon sat idly in the field and gazed up at the sky, twitchy ears reacting to rustling of grass and honking avians overhead. It had been about a week since that ambush happened and while his wounds already began the process of scabbing over, they still needed to heal properly before he'd begin training again. It wasn't the first time Āzoniol had been shook around like a damned ragdoll, the only difference was that it wasn't a result of another one of his father's sadistic "Training sessions" to hold authority over his children. A mildly more pleasant experience, but still sucked nonetheless.

The brute snikered to himself at the vague recollection of how she attempted to make Āzon beg for his life — as if pleading for dominancy over him. Such a request was a waste of words towards a wolf more stubborn than a mule. Either way, she'd still managed to knock his lights out — and that just proved how weak he was in his current state. If he wanted to help that girl and any others she might recruit from the mountains create a legion of freedom fighters, fooling around was no longer an option.

For now though, Āzon needed some headspace time to plan out what he was gonna do next instead of jumping into another random fuckfest. He kinda wished that wolf from the seaside were here to look at his wounds again....

The brute turned his pale cranium around at the sound of a boy's voice, odd-colored visionaries eventually falling onto a he-wolf of unfamiliar origins. At first, the muscles in his haunches would stiffen instinctually to get ready for a fight or flight response — and yet, something about this ordeal didn't seem too threatening. Not even when he mentioned how Āzon 'looked like shit.' "Don't rub the salt too deep in the wound now, you'll make me cry..." he humored dryly in a monotonous voice, stretching his front legs outward while eyeing the boy suspiciously. Upon observation, the wolf was small in stature and had a pelt reminding him of woodlands. That scent as well — it was definitely local. One belonging to the flora and fauna which surrounded them. If the phoenix didn't know any better, he'd say they probably hailed from a nearby pack, but who could ever tell?

They mention something about 'the other guy' and it was obvious that he meant the pale woman who caused it. "You can say that too, but sadly I didn't get enough bites into the rabid fucker as I needed to. Got pretty chewed up myself." He said with a soft, bitter chuckle while using a paw to feel up the side of his scaring neck.

"Lets cut to the chase though; you here to add on to these wounds or somethin'? I don't remember catchin' your name..." Āzoniol couldn't be too sure about their intentions afterall, even if they did seem remotely freindly...

Azon found it rather strange how the male wished to help him with his wounds, even going as far as to reveal his own vulnerability and refusing to fight. As noticed before, this male's scent practically mirrored their surroundings, which likely meant that they lived here. And that being the case, why not chase a lone wolf away from your territory instead of fixing them up? Was there possibly some sort of gain out of this? Perhaps he'd been trying to receive intel from Azon in return for his kind gesture? Well, whatever the case may have been, the pale brute would have to worry about it later. There was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity at making a speedier recovery, ecspecially in the company of an assumed medic — work can begin again soon that way.

"Smartass..." The phoenix rumbled with a grin in response to the small male's little quip. Though he did have a point; a name for a name was only fair between two strangers. "Th'name's Azon. Nice to meet you" He said while standing up slowly and walking over to where he was "So, yer a medic, right?" his chin tipped up when he stopped infront of them to give the male a better look at the bite marks under his neck. "Go ahead and look then, i'm not gonna go ballistic on ya or anything. Just don't pull anything funny..." If they were looking for permission to come closer, then Azon was granting it as we speak — he even winked at them as a way of saying the comment was all in harmless fun.

Only upon closer inspection was the prince able to notice his own injuries. Seemed as if they needed to focus on treating themselves more....

This Evien fellow had quite the mouth on him, one could say it was much more foul than Āzon's own dialect, which was compromised mostly of swearwords and rage. Maybe that's why he was growing on him so fast.

The prince hadn't come across another who was this open with the way that they spoke — despite being in the company of strangers and all. There was something about it that made Āzoniol feel more at ease, yet he did have to admit: It surprised him that a word like 'Fuck' could easily slip out the lips of someone so.......cute? No, that word can't be the word, right? One would assume a small wolf like Evien looked innocent from afar — but maybe it wasn't wise judging a book by its cover afterall. Not that he'd be one to complain — Āzon relished every second of their banter.

In response to Evien's examination, Āzoniol let out a loud, almost barbaric sounding laugh from the depths of his chest. "Don't'cha worry. I'm pretty thick skinned. Some deep wounds never bothered me a bit..." He said with a chuff, puffing his chest out to display his white plumage in some sort of "tough guy act". This was a lie, of course; had the wounds been any deeper and Āzon would've been bleeding his balls out dead on that forest floor, rather than being here beside the brown medic. (Not to mention that 'thick skinned' was used in the wrong context. Ignis, you dumbass.)

He turned his attention back to Evien while peering down at him with a returned smile when nudged on the shoulder — which would soon fade at the mention of going to a stream — water. Ever since his encounter with Bronco a couple weeks ago, the pale sire wished to avoid being drenched. If not avoid looking at himself all together whenever he was wet. Āzoniol felt exposed to all things hidden on his skin, and no matter how much he lied about them, it never got rid of the primal fear that was brought with them.

"Alright, I'll go. Just.....just don't watch me while I wash off...." don't look. Don't remind me they exist "Ya peepin' tom....." 

Luckily for Āzoniol, the smaller male did no pry the reason behind his avoidance any further and he sighed in relief. A small part of himself feared revealing such a vulnerable part of himself too soon — what if he drove Evien away with said information? He didn't want to risk finding out.

The brute took a couple seconds to look back and made sure Evien truly wasn't looking, a worried expression of insecurity on his face, and would slowly turn around to head towards the stream. It took a little while to wash off due to how low the stream was — he even had to lie down to make sure his neck was being properly cleaned — but Āzon was eventually able to flush out most of the blood and gunk from his wounds. 

The prince got up and stepped from the water, vigorously shaking his wooly pelt to dry off. He made sure to take his sweet time with it too and might've taken longer than needed. Shake off, check. Shake off, check. Shake off, check. Make sure no water is still there — make sure no skin shows.

Evien called out to him, and it was within that brief moment that Ignis was snapped out of his obsessive drying. He looked back to peer at him and just as promised,  the brown male was looking the other way — Āzon couldn't help but smile. It was good to know he could be trusted.  "I'll allow it, peasant." He jested with a cheeky grin on his face, walking towards where Evien stood with his herbs. "What do ya plan on doing with these? A paste?"

Another laugh resurfaced Āzon's chest at Evien's quip, swaying his tail when the brown healer approached his side -- guess you could say Ignis was enjoying the wolf's company more than he should've been. What's more is that there was no need to filter out any blunt wordplay and playfulness when communicating. The words just came out naturally when he was around Evien -- and that was enough to put him in a strange state of comfort.

"I won't, just be gentle on delicate ol' me~" the brute managed to pull out another corny joke, this time with more of a comedic drawl to it, before the stinging in his neck immediately shut him up. Ignis shut his eyes and hissed when the paste was applied to his wounds, but the healer did warn him beforehand, so he just had to sit there and bare with it for the time being.

When the application was done, Āzon let out the breath he held in and shivered as the pain left his body. The prognosis was simple; let it dry and don't touch it. And while this paste felt strange and grainy against his raw skin, the prince still trusted this medic and his work. Evien hadn't done anything to harm him afterall. "A few scrapes from the scuffle here and there, but nothing that hasn't already scabbed over by now..."

As Āzon told him this, he turned his attention back to Evien and was met with a pair on pine-green eyes staring back into his own. They stayed like this for a hot minute -- Āzoniol wanted to ask if something was on his face. Though he turned away before the pale sire could find out. 

"What's th'matter? My mug too ugly to look at for you?" He asked, lowering his cranium closer to the smaller wolf's head-level. If Ignis wasn't so dense (and realized a little thing called "personal space") , he'd probably have an idea as to why...