Wheeling Gull Isle She's spending every weekend at my place

In the aftermath of the storm, the island was left in a mess. Lucas didn't have any particular proclivity for tidying things up—if it was up to him, the island would be left in this state, natural as could be—but the action of the longer standing sea wolves spurred him to help, too. His neck was aching from pulling branches down to the lagoon where they could be floated out to sea. It wasn't just his mind that wasn't made for cleaning; his body was beginning to feel the effects of being overweight.

The one he carried in his mouth now was particularly unruly. It wasn't too large for him to carry, but it was knotted and gnarled in such a way that no matter how he held it, it threatened to slip through his teeth. He had to readjust it several dozen times just carrying it down to Wavewrack Lagoon, and the entire ordeal was a struggle. When finally he got there, he dropped it in the sand with a huff and flopped down beside it, panting lightly.

Those that remained were slowly getting to work tidying up the place, and Titmouse wasn't going to stand by and watch as everyone put in the work. He'd been laying low since his arrival and when the storm hit, it was like a wake-up call. It felt like the storm came just after his return as a reminder of where he belonged (deep in the sea), and there was a thought that it could've been an omen. Maybe he'd brought the storm with him? But he wouldn't lend much credence to such speculation, he had to keep thoughts of Sithis and Blackfeather out of his mind lest he think of Maegi and be distracted in to stagnation again.

The hustle and bustle of the pack got him moving, more or less. He could see shapes moving across the beach or through the trees, and followed after some of them while diligently trying to clear away debris. His toils were not very successful. Titmouse had never been physically strong despite his size, and after everything he'd been through in his short life, he hadn't gotten any better. But he saw a burly looking boy struggling with a particularly large branch, and moved to help him.

As he got closer, he saw that the wolf was struggling to get a good hold; yet he managed to drag the debris pretty far, and Titmouse wondered if he'd be any help at all — so he hung back, looking surreptitiously for another job to do.

Upon catching his breath, Lucas shot the twisted stick a somewhat grumpy look, and that was when he caught sight of Titmouse lurking nearby. The pale wolf with faint orange markings brushed along his side wasn't someone the Guppy was familiar with. It was like he'd materialized out of the storm; one moment, Undersea's wolves were huddled beneath the great spruce tree sans Titmouse, and the next they were crowded into the labyrinth and Titmouse was there. His eyes lingered curiously on the scarred wolf for a few moments, then he rose and hailed him with a, hey! and a lightly waving tail.

It wasn't much further to the water's edge, but Lucas' philosophy was that everything was better with friends. Even dragging a dumbly designed stick to the nearby ocean could be made into a game if one tried hard enough. And he was bored enough with the task to be willing. You wanna help me carry this out to sea? he invited with a characteristic grin.

Many of the wolves of Undersea were foreign to him. The only ones that really caught his attention were the leaders, and of course Reed, but he hadn't seen her in a while — and was busy with the tidying of the territory so he wasn't really thinking about it, except to mentally remark about how unknown this wolf was. It didn't help that he'd kept himself secluded from everyone as he'd adjusted to being on the island again. It was difficult to do that in such a small space, but somehow Titmouse had managed it.

Anyways, the stranger didn't seem bothered by his presence (or his appearance), and invited him to help. He huffed a small sound (which he hoped was a good sound, that had been the intent), and moseyed closer to try and lend a hand --- a tooth? Whatever. He reached for the twisting branch and after grabbing at it a few times, found a hold that seemed to work; then, Titmouse looked up to try and catch the boy's eye — where to? Except, Lucas was sitting squarely on his blind side, so he had to let go and adjust again.

So much for being helpful, it just looked like Tit was making out with some wood.

The noise Titmouse made was good enough for Lucas; as his newest companion made for the stick, Lucas stretched out his legs and broad paws to rise once more. It was then, as Titmouse got a good hold on the stick and then seemed to reconsider, that Lucas noticed his empty eye socket. For some reason the scars marring the man's face and body didn't affect him much, but seeing that dark hole where an eye should be made his stomach flip-flop.

So uh, he tried, quelling a desire to turn and gag, how'd you... urp... how'd you lose your eye? He busied himself with trying to grasp the stick alongside Titmouse so they could move it to the sea together, and despite having asked about it, he kept his focus steadfastly away from that little empty pocket of raven-black flesh.

It wasn't like he was oblivious to his own appearance. Titmouse knew that he took some getting used to for most people, which explained why so many wolves kept their distance when they initially meet him. It wasn't often that they so pointedly react or ask about his wounds — or maybe he was wrong, and he just grew numb to the looks over time. He was half-blind after all, so maybe he just didn't notice the obvious. But the boy paused and when he did, Titmouse glanced at him and saw a flash of an expression, and knew almost instantly what had caused it. While the boy's stomach flip-flopped from that glimpse of his empty socket, Tit's did the same as he felt a brief spasm of anxiety.

—how'd you lose your eye? the boy asked. Titmouse supposed he had to expect that from time to time. Thankfully the islanders were scattered and preoccupied most days, and there weren't many of them, so he hadn't had to answer that question lately. Still, he felt... Uncertain. He could tell the truth and risk more questions, or lie and try to sculpt a better view of himself through the boy's perception.

He chose to tell the truth, for a change, and released his grip on the log long enough to say, Made some-bady mah... um, un-heh-pee. Ank-ree. Dey took.

Almost the moment he asked, Lucas regretted it. He may not have been good for much, but he could read a room with some reliability, and he felt this was a semi-inappropriate topic. It didn't help that opening his mouth to fix it around the stick made his stomach roil unpleasantly. He tried to keep his eyes on the sea, but that was tossing and turning too... and the blank socket was burned into his mind like a brand. Made some-bady mah. Wait are you serious?

Lucas dropped the stick without warning, working his tongue against the roof of his mouth as if it would do him any good, but bile was already rushing up his throat. He turned inelegantly away and with a pitiable blarf sound, expelled acid onto the sand. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god. That was probably the rudest thing he'd ever done in his entire life, but that empty pocket of flesh may as well have been Titmouse's entire face to the queasy youngster... and someone had done that solely because they were mad?

Oh my god, he murmured weakly, I'm—bluh—so sorry.

Of all the responses he'd witnessed to his wounds, this was... Different. The words had barely left his mouth before the boy was turning away and vomiting messily across the sand. It might've been offensive to him on any other day but -- somehow, it just seemed so funny. Titmouse had been subjected to a number of things but he'd never made someone sick like that before. To top it all off, it was like the boy knew he should've stayed composed and kept apologizing. Tit didn't think there was anything wrong with what happened. He shook his head as he heard more and more pleas, and then with a wheezy, huffing, useless laugh filling the air thinly, he explained, It okee, it okee — it wasn't like he'd gone out of his way to vomit. Can ged-oo samtheng for sick? he offered, but couldn't think of much that would help settle his stomach except for maybe... Poppies... But he doubted the wolves here kept a store of them.

Before he knew what was happening, Lucas had tears streaming down his plump face. Part of it was just the after effect of vomiting, but part of it was deep shame and humiliation. He prided himself on being a good guy, kind and helpful to everyone he met. To not only be repulsed by Titmouse's missing eye, but to straight up get sick from looking at it, was so unlike him that he was equally repulsed by himself. N-no it's not, he stammered pitifully, having by now mostly abandoned his efforts with the stick, it was so rude!

Titmouse was able to laugh off Lucas' little episode, but Luc himself was ashamed enough that you'd think he had purposely done it. If it was considered rude to comment on someone's unsightly appearance, then wasn't it a hundred-fold moreso to vomit right in front of them? He was mortified, but he couldn't manage to say anything besides blubbered apologies, so he merely nodded in response to Titmouse's question, assuming automatically that the one-eyed man knew exactly what would work.

After all, the only useful plant Lucas knew about was marigold and, if Speedy was right, that wouldn't be back until the spring.

He's grabbed some wood sorrel and a few twigs of snowberry by mistake; both are used for stomach issues but the snowberry leaves are poisonous and the fruit attached would be a laxative, oops.

Titmouse was no medic. He thought that he'd find something by happenstance, and tried to think of all the things he could remember Raven using, or Relmyna, or Maegi — and as he slipped away from Lucas he began scouring the earth for these things, vagaries though they might be. Nothing really grew along the ocean-side so he ended up drifting towards the island center; he thought he spotted something familiar poking through the dark of some trees, and slunk along a ledge to investigate, but once he assessed the area he found that he'd been wrong. Go figure. But he didn't want to return without something that could help, or at the very least would work as a placebo. The last thing he wanted was to hurt the boy when trying to calm his belly.

Tit eventually spotted some small shoots of wild onion. They were mostly frozen, maybe older than he thought because of the frozen quality of the earth, but if they were here — ah, his nose rooted along the soil until he found something growing nearby the onions. The plant was hidden in shade and resembled clover; if nothing else, it would be harmless and give the boy something to focus on that might sooth his throat the way fresh grass sometimes soothed the belly after a meal. He uprooted some of this and hastened back to where Lucas was waiting.

The longer Lucas waited with the bracing sea air in his nose, the better he felt. He was almost back to normal by the time Titmouse returned. This time he politely averted his gaze away from the man's missing eye, though just the thought of it made his belly roll ominously. It was going to take some time before he could face Titmouse without reacting. He just had such delicate sensibilities.

Which weren't about to be helped by the plants Titmouse returned with. Lucas was just as ignorant when it came to plants. He tried to remember some of the ones Speedy told him about, but marigold wasn't around this time of year and the names of the others slipped his mind. These'll help? he asked, indicating the berries. Without even really waiting for a response, he scooped the lot—berries and all—into his mouth and gagged through a few half-hearted chews before he managed to swallow it.

It would take a little time for the effects, both helpful and harmful, to manifest. His stomach would feel better first, and then he would be wracked by abdominal pain and explosive diarrhea for the rest of the day after that. Lucky for him there weren't all that many leaves and he would recover from it. But for now, before any of that happened, Lucas smiled gratefully in Tit's general direction without really looking at him and asked, where'd you learn to be a healer?