Sun Mote Copse Run Down

with his belly full — or as full as it could be at the moment — rasalas has a clear mind to focus on the constant smarting of his infected wounds. the pain cobwebs in his brain, spreading throughout until it was near all he could think about. he doesn’t pay much attention as eljay examines him, and though his ears flick with hesitant turmoil at the mention of the wounds being in a bad spot and that he’ll get ‘badass’ scars, he can’t decide how he feels about it. it didn’t matter, really. he didn’t have a choice in the matter of how his sinew and flesh healed and so he would have no choice but to accept.

presently, though, the pain consumes him.

at niamh’s address, he obediently tilts his muzzle towards her, teeth clenching only to recoil from them as the pretty girl comes forth and snaps at niamh. he doesn’t want to be involved in their fight even though he was, more or less, the catalyst for it in the first place.