Redhawk Caldera Only blue or black days

Im in a lot of physical pain atm from work stuff, so Im channelling that atm. Also sorry for typos. Open to anyone / healers maybe ??

Njal had not been home for long, or at least it didn't feel like long. Didn't feel like home either, but he was really out of it - whatever Ashton had concocted for him to consume, he had eaten without a thought, and now lay drifting in a makeshift 'safezone' of sorts. He couldn't move very far (and nobody wanted to move him with his injury, as much as he had protested). The rendezvous site was pretty close to Njal's resting spot, from what he could remember, unless his memory was also skewed by the herbal remedies given to him (and the result of the storm); he really didn't know anything about the caldera right now. Only that it was a safe place, and that everyone seemed to be busy with something-or-other. With a dull sigh, the old man plopped his head back down upon his paws, and resisted the urge to try and go for a walk (it would not end well).

Peregrine was angry. His vision still hadn't improved in his left eye. If he closed the right, he could barely register more than shadows and shapes. It left his entire left side feeling very vulnerable. He was developing a crick in his neck from suddenly turning his head toward the left hundreds of times a day. He was bitter about the circumstances and resentful of Ashton in particular for giving him false hope that he would make a full recovery. It had been a week and there was no change. It was pretty damn clear to Peregrine that his condition was permanent.

For the first time in days, he left the rendezvous site to take a walk. His depth perception was shot to hell and it was difficult to avoid missteps. For a while, it took all his concentration to adjust and he didn't even actively think about the ramifications of this. Then he actually found himself wondering how on earth he could survive with this handicap long term. His mouth went dry and he found himself fighting nausea when he realized his Gamkeeper career might be over, unless he could magically relearn everything and adapt.

Right as the Alpha was about to sink into a pit of misery, he suddenly noticed Njal sprawled on the ground nearby. He'd heard about the circumstances of his disappearance and eventual return. Normally, Peregrine might have held a grudge anyway, though right now he just felt himself commiserating. They were both busted and broken. But at least Njal had hope. His leg would mend. He would be able to resume hunting in just a few weeks. A little bit of resentment stirred deep within Peregrine.

But his greeting was not unfriendly. "Hello, fellow invalid," he said dryly when he came to stand over the pack's current gimp.

He had been asleep when the last cluster of summer herbs was dropped off for him, either because of the ordeal the beast had gone through, or because of earlier treatment. So when he was roused, Njal sought out more of the painkillers - he didn't know what they were, only that he felt less shitty if he munched on them. Being a little high was nice, too. He moaned as he raised his head, peering with red-rimmed eyes around the area for the latest arrival of herbs; however, he did not notice any piles of yarrow or bearberry. What caught his attention was the bumbling movement of another wolf - and then the voice, one that he recognized.

"Hello, fellow invalid," mumbled the dark man as he sluggishly approached. Njal turned his head slightly so that he could look upon him better, but the slight movement made him dizzy, so he plopped his head back down. "Peregrine," his own voice was tired, but hardly as melancholic as the alpha's. "Glad t'see you survived the storm." He licked his lips, tasting the soil which had somehow dusted across his snout, and gave a little shake of his head (which again, just made him dizzy).

"What happened to you?" Njal asked next, somewhat numb to the impropriety of such a question; nobody had told him about Peregrine's injuries, and he seemed able-bodied enough. He had meant to ask, 'What is a strong young man like you doing here, of all places?' but Njal was still acclimatizing to his treatment. His brain and his mouth weren't in sync, and apparently lacked a filter.

It was like some sort of cosmic joke, actually: he had weathered the storm without a scratch only to go blind to some unseen and malevolent force a few weeks later. It turned out the internal environment was much more treacherous than the external one in his case. Peregrine frowned as that thought drifted through his head, deciding against making any comments aloud. He was even less inclined to answer Njal's followup question.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said moodily, though he did explain in a clipped tone, "I've lost the sight in my left eye." It was probably obvious, the way he had to turn the right side of his face toward the other wolf. "I was thinking of maiming Ashton for misdiagnosing me but, by the look and smell of it, you require his services," Peregrine observed in the next breath, his single sighted eye beady as he studied Njal's face. "I'll hold off," he concluded, huffing and staring off across the caldera's terrain.

Peregrine was resistant to conversation, but followed up by mentioning his lack of sight. Njal's brows raised at this, and he looked side-long at the black figure beside him, but he didn't make a comment. Evidently, Perry didn't mind sharing a little bit about his predicament; or maybe he just didn't trust the good doctor, specifically. That much was clear by now.

"Kind of you to leave him be." Njal retorted, trying to lighten the mood with a small huff (the best he could do right now, laugh-wise, since everything felt so sluggish right now). "Pretty sure anyone could fetch me plants, though. You can have at'em if it makes you feel better." The beast shrugged his shoulders. Before he could say more, a yawn stretched through Njal's body - first catching in his ribs, slowly crawling up his throat, and he snapped his wide mouth shut a moment later, drooling a little bit. He flicked his tongue over his chin to try and catch the dribble, but it escaped in to the dirt.

Njal watched Peregrine for a moment longer, as if to assess his mental state, or something. He wasn't sure what to do now; his mind was muddled by the herbs, confused by the pain. "Too bad you can't take one of his eyes for yer'own, eh?" That... Wouldn't work... Ever.

"True," Peregrine rumbled in agreement when Njal pointed out that just about anyone could fetch plants for him. He turned to face the silver wolf, favoring his right eye. "But if I were to grab some for you, they would probably wind up tasting like shit and poisoning you. Ashton at least knows which ones will kill you and which ones will make you high." But he couldn't tell the difference between an eye or an ear, or permanent or temporary blindness for that matter.

His jaw tensed and Peregrine consciously relaxed it, then snorted at Njal's remark. "Yeah, I don't think that would work, though it would probably be really satisfying. You know that bonehead told me I'd get my sight back within a week. He said it like five times! But I'm blind as fuck on this side," he ranted in a low voice, grating his teeth again and once more forcibly making himself stop. He was so damn angry about everything.

He flopped down beside the subordinate, keeping his head aligned so he could see the older male's face. "Did I hear right that you broke your own leg? That takes some kind of balls."

One dead eye, eh? That had a mighty ring to it - Peregrine 'Dead Eye' Redhawk - and the thought made Njal smirk dumbly. He didn't mention it though, lest the alpha grow further despondent about his situation. A missing eye was painful, perhaps even tragic, but it wasn't the worst that could happen. Wolves that lost their eyes in the heat of battle were remembered for years in the north - at least from Njal's memory - and he saw no reason why it couldn't be the same for Peregrine. He'd have to make up something better than, 'I hit my head and then it exploded one day' but, whatever.

Njal's thoughts were drifting far and wide from the conversation at hand. He didn't return to Perry and his chattering until he heard mention of his own injury. As if on cue, his hip flared with pain and the attached limb felt as if it was being twisted all over again. The old man grit his teeth for a second until the worst of his ghostly ills faded, and then tried to respond.

"It takes teeth actually. If I could break limbs with my balls that'd be some kind of magic." Okay, so he wasn't aware of how strange a statement that was until after it was spoken, but even then, there was no recovery possible. Njal gave a small shrug of one shoulder instead, appearing rather sheepish, and then tried to move beyond the mental image that flourished in his mind. "You've got bear chasers and now tree wrestlers in your ranks. I jus' wish I had done more to the tree. Think I just... Bled on it, or something."

Njal's retort actually brought a fleeting smile to Peregrine's face. It reminded him of the jokes he and Atticus would toss around back in the day. My balls are so huge, I could snap a tree in half with them! His face fell a moment later. His brother was gone, probably dead, and he didn't feel very ballsy himself lately. He wouldn't have thought a head injury would emasculate him but the lack of vision had him feeling like like less of an Alpha male. How could he lead the pack with dignity if he was blind as a bat?

"Bear chasers, tree wrestlers," he murmured, "and a half-blind Alpha who can't even walk without stumbling." His lips pressed together and his jaw tightened. "You have a busted leg but even you will be able to walk better than me in a few weeks. Maybe you should be Alpha," he said rather moodily, fidgeting suddenly.

They were a bunch of crazies, for sure. Crazy or infirm, anyway. But self pity did not suit the dark male, and Njal was about to let him know as much - trying to find the right way to say get over it without sounding like a total ass about the situation was difficult - except Peregrine mentioned giving up the position. To Njal himself of all people; granted, it was only a comment. The idea did not sit well with the drugged up old man though.

"Either your eye will fix itself, or it won't. But nobody can lead this place except you and Fox," it wasn't an outright refusal but there was a tone in Njal's voice that amounted to as much. The leadership of the pack was no joking matter, and even in his broken down and foggy state, Njal knew that. "You might wake up one day with your eye restored, or maybe with special mutant powers to compensate. The good thing is, you're alive, and you have time to adapt. All is not lost."

Things sounded too serious now. As an after-thought, Njal returned to the topic of leadership (specifically his brand of leadership, which didn't go over well; he remembered the glacier bitterly), and sluggishly mumbled, "I'm old now anyway. I'd take the fun out of everything." Not to mention, there was no guarantee that he'd be completely healthy once his leg mended.

He snorted. Of course, that wasn't true. He and Fox wouldn't live forever. Should Peregrine in particular die suddenly, Elwood would make a perfectly decent Alpha. But he didn't think the silver male wanted that sort of responsibility in the long-term. He wasn't dead or even dying (as far as he knew), though maybe he should seriously consider a runner-up, someone more suitable than Njal anyway.

"I won't live forever," he murmured. "But you're right. You are too old. I need to pick someone young. The next best thing to me and Fox." His lip curled a little. Any one of his three kids showed promise, particularly Nightjar, in his opinion.

But that was a thought for another day, not a decision he should make on a self-deprecating impulse. "Mutant powers—like what kind of mutant powers?" It was a stupid topic, yet something relatively light, and for the moment at least, Peregrine was sick of wallowing in his own shit.

It did sort of sting to think of himself as the 'old man' of the pack, considering all that he had accomplished. To have worked his way up to the rank of alpha - to have his own family, even if they were only happy for a brief spell - and then to lose it all. And to think, he'd never have another chance. Now all Njal had was a bum leg and a brain filled with bad memories.

"What kind of mutant powers?" Peregrine suddenly said, and for a second Njal was confused. He must have drifted from the conversation again. They both wanted a lighter tone to the conversation by this point, although the old man wasn't exactly creative in his answer. "I dunno," was his initial response, followed by, "You'd have one super eye. So maybe perfect night vision, or maybe you could shoot beams of light from both of them." He wasn't very good at this.

Thanks for the thread. Sorry he's so grouchy!

It turned out Njal's creativity ran out there. Would perfect night vision be worth the sight in one eye? Half his sight? No. His nostrils flared and he snorted again. He would gladly trade a lot of other body parts if he could just see out of his right eye again. Take his tail, one of his paws, both his ears. He could live without those things, barely affected. Losing an eye left him feeling... impotent.

"I'm going to go kick some rocks, I think," Peregrine announced, hoisting himself onto his feet and swaying slightly before finding his balance. "I bet I'll miss," he mused sardonically, then bobbed his snout and Njal and swept away. It took all of his concentration to not fall flat on his face as he walked away.

Its all good! That was fun. :)

Njal gave a little shrug when Peregrine spoke, and then settled in to a different position. He tried to lay on his good side, but the slightest movement of his body made his hip twinge with pain. Before long, Peregrine had wandered off (wandered? hobbled?) and the old man, freed from the task of conversation, dozed until he drifted to sleep.