Boartusk Heights θάνατος

@Reyna @Nivis <3333!!

There was nothing left.

All he had was the scars on his shoulders, and the memories already sliding out of his head. Did Evaristus enjoy rabbit? Or was he allergic to it? Was Isocrates that bad of a dancer? Small moments he desperately wanted to cling to, now steadily sliding into the blood he’d left behind.

Asklepios was exhausted by the time the borders cropped up almost beneath his feet. Slow and coltish, he stumbled back a few steps, blinking at the almost physical line in front of him. He adjusted his grip on the bladder-bag in his mouth, sitting it at his feet. The mountain hanging over his head was ringed by clouds, and the only sign of organized life he’d noticed in weeks. Most of what he passed was calm packs, families with no need for an extra mouth. He wasn’t built to be alone, so even while he tried to cling to his past, he had to move on.

Asklepios let his voice rise in a tired note towards the peaks.

the lonely come to la muerte, she's realized. those that come seeking purpose find her borders. a part of her has grown sympathetic to this, the other allows it solely for the numbers and loyalty it may breed.

the newest straggler is lead to her. the pale rump of the man reminded her of her dove, though she remains quiet for now. are you in need of assistance?

He is allowed time to himself, before his lonesome wail is answered. The wind toys with the curls at his cheeks, the springy grasses beneath his feet crinkle with summer heat. It’s a beautiful area, this place, as he drags his eyes across the distant spires, the long winded wilderness that surrounds him in the distant chirp of crickets and hum of cicadas.

A voice floats to him on the wind, common tongue, and for a moment he panics. He focuses his gaze on the woman walking his way, delicate limbs carrying her in a float. He dips his head in respect, keeping his eyes on her feet.

Some might say so. His voice is accented even to his own ears, and he winces and licks his nose.

Most would tell you I’m a combat medic with no combat.

I’m a medic, with no patients.

Most people needed stability. Asklepios needed purpose.

cameo!

 

To her side, the handmaiden came. Close and to her flank, she stops back from her Mistress in much respect. Matriarca. Her words whispered in greeting and pale lavender eyes cast towards the man, speckled ears flickering to his words. 

A man. A medic. Where had their last one seemed to have fluttered to? They had been a fine pair in their duties. Had come upon an agreement which worked greatly in Paloma's favor. Now, there was another who came to him. One which happened to where a uniquely shaped dark mask just as the last ..

their soleon having traveled far but having not yet returned, reyna cocks her head up slightly. they would need a medic to hold base for whenever, if ever, the golden man would return.

there may be some here for you, then. a medic would make sure her children will grow up strong and healthy. paloma peeks her head from reyna's peripheral, and though the queen only vaguely knew of her working relationship with soleon, she understood her Criada's mix of intrigue and wariness. what is your name?