Bramblepoint This flower is perfect!

with ibis away, okeanos feels strangely untethered. they've been parted before, but then, he'd at least been with the rest of his family, who have always been his anchor. here he is a stranger in a strange land, his only companion a traumatized child and a childhood ... reluctant friend. acquantice maybe. he doesn't mind, not really, but it is a little overwhelming to wake up and think oh, i'm not responsible to anyone right now. 

so he lets himself explore, never going too far from the forest, but interested in the surrounding areas, the way grass turns to sand turns to rock and water. he's looking for.. something, he doesn't know. and then, as if some higher being has been listening to him, there it is: a crumpled body, the sharp smell of blood. (excitement would be - well, mean, but okeanos can't help the slight brightening of his expression at the prospect of helping someone).

he rushes to the stranger's side -- leaving a fairly wide berth, understandably, the  badly injured had a tendency to be snappy -- his eyes sweeping over the damage. his shoulder looks raw and clotted; okeanos' flesh twinges sympathetically. "what happened? were you attacked?" he asks, because if there's still danger in the area that seems pressing -- and then, oh, "here, i can help you - can you move?"