Qeya River take it from me, you're my dirty disease
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#1
All Welcome 
forward-dated to the 26th, tagging @Zamael & @Delight for visibility
He hadn't gone home after his talk with Samothes. It had been a couple days— his absence had definitely been noticed by now. He was too tired to care, though.
Actually, he had no real destination in mind, no real reason to have left the Sanctuary at all. He meant to return; he would return, eventually. Perhaps soon, he thought, wrinkling his nose slightly at the stench of infection surrounding him. There were several things he'd forgotten to consider when he'd made the decision to wander further, when he'd continued making the decision— the lack of food and herbs, for example.
He was hungry, and now he had a nasty infection in his shoulder. His path took him alongside the river that ran through the valley, following it west— the direction of Morningside, he registered vaguely after some time. But Morningside was not his destination.
Eventually, the sun began to set, and he realized how exhausted he was; rather than finding shelter for the night, Alarian flopped himself on the ground as close to the river as he could get without falling in. He wondered what it would be like to let himself fall in; cold, he thought, but only for a few minutes. Then it would be like nothing at all— it sounded nice.
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#2
sorry this is short but couldn't resist x:

He had not imagined seeing his fine companion like this again. The scent of infection in the air like a bad omen. Outlander didn't want to believe it but the form on the river looked too familiar to ignore. His head raised up with ears standing tall. Worry was painted clearly across his face.

Alarian. He called out gently and perhaps more caring than he had expected. The big burly male would lower himself slightly as he crept closer, peach eyes raking over the worn form.
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It wasn't a stranger who found him, ultimately; it was someone he hadn't realized he'd be happy to see. He lifted his head at the sound of his name, ears perking slightly as he caught sight of Outlander. The concern in his voice made his chest ache. And, of course, the tears started immediately.
He couldn't bring himself to try to move, so he only let the other close the distance between them. Outlander, His voice trembled slightly as he quietly returned the greeting, blinking his good eye a few times to clear away the tears. They just came back, though, filling his eyes as quickly as the last batch had vacated and making his wounded eye sting terribly; it was just that— he cared. They'd only met once, and he cared.
Sorry about the smell, He joked lamely, wondering if he could possibly— convince him to find some herbs or something. He'd never actually tried making someone look just by description, but hey, it could be fun. Or it could fail miserably. Or both!
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He offered a small, faint laugh at the joke and shook his head softly. Don't be sorry. If allowed, he would aim to place a small lick against the back of one of Alarian's ears. Let me help. He murmured softly. Outlander wasn't actually positive how he could help. He was no healer. Perhaps he could help cleanse the wounds though?

His peach gaze glanced around a bit protective, wanting to make sure there were no hungry predators around or even a nosy wolf. The burly male would be ready to snap at anyone who dared to get too close.
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He shivered slightly at the touch, closing his eyes for a few beats and wishing it could last longer. He nodded slowly as he opened them again, glancing around them briefly before settling his gaze back on the other. Um, I'm a medic, but— I don't think I can find herbs right now, His confession came quietly, a little ashamed; what kind of medic let himself get this way in the first place? Maybe I can describe them to you?
Assuming Outlander agreed, he paused only a beat before explaining. Umm— chervil. It's a plant with lots of small leaves, and really tiny white flowers— I need the roots. He hoped that was a good enough description— he really wasn't in any state to get up and look himself, not now. Nor was he in any state for the kind of thoughts lingering in the back of his mind, but that had never stopped him.