Moonspear they treat me like a machine

"Lyra has seen to it," he answered simply, failing to include that he'd only gone to her once - not because he chose to, but because the Queen had insisted. Osiris' wounds proved far more serious than his own, which seemed like a mere scratch in comparison. Praimfaya did well to mask the swell of emotion within her, made attempt to hide the crack in her voice. Dacio was sure to outwardly ignore it for fear of embarrassing her, though he felt a stirring of quiet sorrow for her as his gaze was cast out toward the valley that stretched beyond their proud mountain.

He was silent for a moment, having never been strong in the comfort department when it came making others feel better. It was the soldier in him, perhaps; bred and prepared for war throughout his entire puphood, self-care of his own or even someone else's mental health was not a lesson Dacio could recall ever being taught. "I have not seen him since," the young warrior answered, glad for the shift in attention from his physical injuries to those of another, "but the Queen says he will live." A fortunate thing, considering Osiris had taken the brunt of an attach he did not anticipate. "She is certain that the boy's attacker runs with Blackhead, but I... am led to believe that the sea witch breathes no more."