Neverwinter Forest and i like making shit, and i like selling it

a yl wolf maybe?

As he fled from the cave, the mountain, the valley, his vision slowly fades. The left side of his world was blurry at first, but he could still differentiate a tree from a rock or grass from water. Days go by, things go from bad to worse. Objects mesh together, then turn into a formless blob, and eventually it disappears all together. Cupid was left with one eye, half a world to see. It was disorienting at best, horrifying at worst.

He’s exhausted by the time he returns to neverwinter. At any moment he could’ve passed out, but he managed to stumble his way to some water.

Cupid would seek out his son later. Right now he needed to get all the blood off his face. Then he could clearly  see the damage the saints had done.

A week had passed since his near-death experience, followed by a near-murder at the hands of a kid. He'd never liked kids, and hadn't believed that it'd been possible to like them less...But now he knew better, and had decided to avoid that patchwork, piece-of-work, homicidal brat and all others like him, and spent the week avoiding all others so that his muzzle could heal. He still could not breathe through his nose, and the wound on the roof of his mouth from one of Mahler's lower canines was taking its sweet time to heal too (if only he could stop tonguing at it) but in the very least, the puncture wounds on the bridge of his muzzle had begun to close up, though the bones would never be straightened. 

He noted with annoyance, as the swelling subsided, that even if he crossed his eyes and stared straight down his muzzle that he couldn't see his nosetip anymore. Due to the bend in his muzzle, he could reach well above his nose with his tongue, which was amusing if nothing else, and his already pronounced upper canines now traced new lines through the fur of his chin. He'd taken a glance at his reflection in a puddle, and saw just how ridiculous he looked- but there was no escaping it. He'd be deformed now, for life; and there were puddles everywhere so there was no avoiding the shame. 

It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd had his face disfigured, though. He was lightly startled by the fact that he'd wandered so close to another packmate without really noticing them until he heard the soft splashing of water that wasn't simply from the rain. "Woah, dude," He said, grimacing lightly in spite of his own pain, bristling as he sniffed at the air as though looking for some sign of sickness that accompanied the male's wounds. "Simmik wasn't kidding; there really are some sick bastards roaming around here." He said, noting with a squint that under the blood-covered fur was an eye that likely could not recover from the injuries he'd sustained. "You want me to, uh, call you a medic or something?" He asked, still maintaining a distance in case the injured wolf saw fit to drive him off.

Cupid wouldn’t get his much needed alone time. He never did these days. One ear swivels toward the sound of sloshing footsteps and when he looks up there’s a man gawking at his latest injury.

I am the medic. Not the only one here, but he’d pretend that were the case for the time being. He’d seen enough of Aibreann when he was crashing at her place. He didn’t want to see her face for a month at least.

Cupid didn’t take kindly to his observations. His frowned deepened as he grimaced and sniffed and stared. He didn’t like being the center of attention. What happened to your face? Time to shift the spotlight.

Jackalope closed his ungainly mouth, nipping his bottom lip slightly in the process when he was advised- with some amount of disdain- that he was the medic. His mouth opened a moment later, so he could breathe. The blunt response normally would've evoked something snide from the Blackthorn male, but he reminded himself that he was still sort of on probation, with Simmik's reputation at risk should he prove himself unworthy. "Sorry,", he apologized stiffly, feeling as though his well-intended (and rare) display of helpfulness had gone to waste. 

He looked up when he was asked about his own injuries, and his lips drew back for a moment, only to purse a moment later as he leaned forward to peer somewhat rudely at Cupid's forehead. The fur, still matted with blood, darkened just above his temples in a shape that Jackalope recognized. A heart. His answer was delayed for a moment as Jackalope found himself lightly stunned with the realization that this was very likely that damn kid's father. He stiffened slightly; and decided, then, to decline any aid the male offered, just in case it meant he'd be subjected to some other means of torture. 

"Just what I'd mentioned. Sickos roaming the coastline." He said. "Two dudes picking on a chick; I tried to intervene," He said, with a distracted shrug. "Where'd you find 'em?" He asked.

He said sorry for staring. That’s what Cupid assumed—or rather hoped— anyway. Yet he keeps on doing it. The corners of his mouth twitch and almost pull back into a snarl. He managed to keep his teeth hidden for now.

Sickos in the mountains, sickos on the coast, and they could still be roaming around here. Surrounded at all sides. Cupid wondered if they all crawled out from the saints domain. If that were the case, they were in much more danger than he initially thought.

In the mountains. I was gathering herbs when one of them attacked me. God fucking damnit. He dropped those herbs when he was running away. You couldn’t pay him a million dollars to get those back. What a waste of time.

Jackalope nodded stiffly when it appeared that the harmful rogues were in the mountain areas as well. This wasn't exactly what he'd expected to face after joining a pack- this pack life thing was supposed to allow him to be a bit more lazy, to be able to count on others to help keep him fed and safe...But in a bad neighbourhood, none of that could be acheived. Not right away, anyway; it looked like he'd have to be a bit more vigilant than he'd expected. 

He contemplated asking the male if he did indeed have a son with the same marking on his forehead- but he thought he'd keep that card and play it later, if he wanted the kid to get in shit. He'd hold on to the threat of telling Cupid that Caerus had nearly killed him by shoving him into the stream and knocking him senseless until he was able to get something from it. 

"Guess that means we're surrounded by shit-heads," He said. "I'm Jackalope, by the way. Jackalope Blackthorn."

Neither wolf was terribly fit for company. They would withstand each other as long as they'd need to, and go their separate ways, having hardly had any real impact on each other. Later, Jackalope would only barely recall his meeting with the male simply because the man's son had tried to drown him weeks earlier.