GOLDENLUXURY ROUX
information — plotting

Almost a week she had been unconscious. Her body still felt like shit. Her blood still leaks from her neck. Her feathers still fall out, wings torn and body scratched. Her legs still wobble from the exhaustion, quickly growing dehydrated, headaches frequent, and a constant searing pain. But she has always felt worse. So much fucking worse. There was no chance this sort of thing would have ever stopped her for more than it was absolutely necessary to. Goldenluxury Roux has always been this way - how likely was it she'd change now? At least she wasn't still trying to dive headfirst into war, despite how tempting it may be. She hates the delay. She wishes to end it all right now. But, she is strategic, at the very least. There is that, even if she may discount the fact that doing these sorts of things would still slow her recovery. But, it was for a good cause. She had missed out on the fun. The least she can do now is indulge her intense desire to help someone in this sort of situation.

The slave who broke her chains, burned down Stryker again and again, took her vengeance against the Pitt, crowned Jervis with the intents of betraying him, and now called upon war to dethrone him. Why wouldn't she want to help others hurt by them too? Especially, given, these others are her friends. (One is, at least; she is not so sure about the ghost boy anymore.)

The tigress stumbles onto the swampy lands, letting out struggled coughs with a basket around her neck. "Hey," she'd gather a Tangler's attention, ignoring any concern coming from them. "Gimme directions t' Sam." To which, they would hesitantly oblige, and she would be on her damn way. The female staggers towards her friend's home, nearly falling into the doorway as she approaches it. The female sits for a moment to breathe, then promptly knocks on the door, calling out weakly, "Is' Goldie."

[member=4834]samantha[/member]

GOLDENLUXURY ROUX
information — plotting

While she could have specified better, the tigress had not expected Sam to get up and out of bed if she was in a state she couldn't do such a thing in. She figured she'd just let herself in. However, when she was greeted with her injured friend, she is quick to react. "Whoa, whoa," the female immediately responds to Sam's appearance, instinctively reaching out a paw as she feels Sam's own touch her chest. The tigress extends her torn wings, turning to scoop Sam up in one of them, sliding the female onto her back before she could protest. "Ya shouldn' be walkin'."[b] Hypocritical? Yes. But, it still came from a good place, and Sam would at least be placed delicately in a very soft position. The tigress would carry the female into her home, glancing around quickly to try and locate some sort of bed, steps slow and struggling as she finds it, laying down carefully beside it as she removes the basket from around her neck and adjusts her own bandages, huffing. She remains quiet for a few moments, maybe to catch her breath, let that burning pain die down, be less dizzy, or all of these things combined. The female didn't plan to specify.

Once she recovers, though, she would lift her head back up ever so slightly, turning her attention fully to Sam once more. [b]"Was ambushed. Not important." The female didn't come here to worry her friend even more. She's experienced worse - and clearly Sam needed attention much more than she did. "I 'ave gifts." This isn't what she was planning to start off with - fuck. The captain needs to recollect herself. What was she going to say? "I, uh -" she lets out a strained cough, shaking her head. "I needed t' talk." That sounds ominous. Like she's some disappointed parent or some shit. She waits a few moments before elaborating, gathering her thoughts. She didn't want to make it seem like she was trying to make it about her. But, how else could she explain herself? "When I said Beck saved m' life a few times before, here's what I meant: -" she pauses again, tensing ever so slightly. Should she be talking about this? Was this the right thing to do? "- when the Pitt took me...they made me Stryker's pet, took away m' memories. They convinced me I was s'posed t' be there t' be a slave, and then t' die for a crime I didn' remember committin'. But...I was rescued before they'd kill me, n' I thought I should go back; I thought that my purpose was t' be a slave n' then t' be executed." Not as much context as the whole story would have, but she needn't go too into detail. This visit is not so much about her than it is about what she wants to do for Sam. "But, I had jus' a few folks convince me otherwise in the end. Beck was one of 'em. When I was scared n' confused n' hurt, he helped me feel safe, n' realize that I deserved t' be free n' happy." Her words are weak and croak out quietly as she speaks, exiting her mouth slowly.

"An' the point is, I want you t' know 'm here for you. I want t' help you t' feel safe." Saying it outright hadn't felt right. Goldie looks over Sam, her expression filled with a genuine concern. She wanted her to know she wasn't alone.