warning of animal death; ament is heavily injured and suffering from a poorly treated wound that became infected.

infections on neck ; about an inch in wide all along his neck
infection along his right arm, near the wrist where similar ring around of an infection.

the post goes ament is anger boi and lashes out on a rouge because he is hurt and he doesn't know what to do; exhaust himself to the point of passing out cold on the beach so now he can receive treatment! please? lmao.

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— it was seldom, that ament feel curiosity without wrath, or wrath without the other: curiosity. it was what bound him here; strings of loyalty and wrath and curiosity kept him engaged. it bound him better than any chain, than any mental trick the lythargi could have crafted to hollow him to his marrow; it chased away static in the sense of it's consumption of his mind, his body. causing it all to be still calm in a way that ament seldom was without these days.

It was seldom, but there were times, scant moments, where one consumed him, and ament: helpless against it wailed the only way a beast could. with teeth, claws and blood. with wrath and anger and fury, resentment; justification, holyunholy abandon. this; was a long time comming, ament would always return to his roots, as he had without his sisters and mother, and now, with them here, the certainty that he will be caught: will be safe. ament felt something him him b r e a k


[sup]no one would understand it; truly. what drove the raptor mad so suddenly, just watching on at a distance- a safe distance in muted shock, horror[/sup] — [sub]know without question ; that something was wrong[/sub]

the venadi were alike in a similar fashion, they were all raptors that craved above all-pack. without the two of his sisters, ament simply wasn't venandi, was just a raptor roaming the lands in search of, searching for- alone vacant; hollow; listless. now they were there, in a home that they had claimed, and Virgo and Exodus, Luciferus. it was alone ament; who broke the venadi, it was alone, ament was captured, and hollowed. but there was nothing lower than the beast he already was, coated in wrathful sin and plucked from his home; his sisters ament was wrath without it's pride, it's envy. ament without venadi. without fire.

the stench of rot along the beach was consuming-putrid as gulls and scavenger alike washed to shore with the behemoth that stood the stands of the sole veandi's wrath. An inhuman-inanimal scream cut off only by the sound of flesh rending, muffled by the punds of flesh ripped and spat out by hollow bones laid out and trauma laid to show.

rot that stang from around the raptor's neck like a noose, infection in injuries left long enough to fester; screams tore from the quickly made corpse at the raptor's feet. living breathing-screaming one moment the next just a body- always prey and now a feast laid bare. ribs split open like a flowering display; a beautiful center piece to the display of carnage a sole venadi could craft


ament didn't stop, couldn't; like his next breath there was a need, it was instinctual; this carnage only the after-effects of an impulse caused by wrath; justified, sinful indulgence both rare and treasured. ament felt such tender love in the wet sands soaked red by him. felt warm caked in blood- home this was home and wasn't it beautiful?

After the lythargi, after tourutre, and chains and static all fully left him, the lythargi had carved into him, and dumped that static, and ament; of his own will drained that, that infection from himself with aurum, with the tanglewood, but his wounds, his chain remained: only void mother and Jaime swayed him from the collar that chocked him between mouthfuls, the iron clasp around his throat that even aurum couldn’t shake from him. Only those savage could reason savage; beast reason beast. and his neck, plucked of feathers and sin rubbed raw, now; there was only infection.

Now, there was still pain and ament demanded to know why, demanded blood for blood. He wasted himself, his energy, his life killing for one thing to return to him – so why did he still sting- did his bones still feel hollow empty where loyalty had once filled them? Where there once was pack now it only felt hollow, aching; even with his sisters, why did he no longer feel whole?

His gums are cut, by the bone splintering through his jaws, lungs pulled and stomach rolled- squshed into the sands. It wasn’t even distinguishable, the create that faced the brunt of the omega’s wrath; only known it was a thing of fur and once full of life blood.

and it was panting, heaving, that ament took it in, his wrath, his disgrace- fall from venadi into the beast that rolled under it- under his skin. and in one huff of breath ament let out

a wimpier

before it all fell into black

The scent of rot on the air is pungent, and overtaking. It seemed to have become a dark cloud, hanging down over the entirety of the Typhoon, despite the fact that it could realistically only reach so far. Blood is not unfamiliar to Roan, the sage having familiarized himself with its scent long ago, when he was forced to patch up the wounds of his friends, of his crewmates, of his family. It stained his fur a crimson red and made his stomach clench, his body desperate to get away and his heart screaming for relief from the pain, pain, pain he surrounded himself with. Yet still, went the scent of rot, and guts, and decay reached him, the young siamese made no effort to run away, or try to hide. His blue eyes glazed over, near mechanically shutting his emotions off as he climbed up into his house, grabbing a bandana to tie firmly over his muzzle. It was not truly for his sake, no, he had become far too used to the suffering, and the scent of it. Instead it was for the sake of his stomach, fighting off the desperate desire his body had to empty itself of all contents at the scent of a very much dead being on the air. Through the bandana, his jaws clenched down gently on his satchel, pulling it up and over his head, smacking quietly against his side. The descent from his house was smooth, silent, and practiced. The sign of a medic and a child turned far too old, far too quickly, by what he had seen.

Roan had not been present when Lucifer and his brood had arrived back to their rightful home, far too caught up in taking care of Goldie and any other patients that he had. Most free time he had these days was either spent playing games in the tavern, studying his books, or simply enjoying a bit of quiet time with a cup of coffee. He no longer felt the delight over new people – or in this case, returning people – joining anymore that he had once felt in the days of his youth. Back then, he had always been so overjoyed, because it meant that he had someone new to ask questions of, and make friends with. These days, it only felt as though it was another person joining the crew that he would inevitably be forced to treat. In this case – as with most cases, at least to the feline himself – he had been right. Their first true interaction, and he came across one of the vicious raptors collapsed in the sand, stained with blood and stinking of rot and infection. Roan was honestly surprised that Ament had not fallen dead yet from leaving his wounds to fester for so long, but he supposed that the beast must've been hardy. After all, it had once been believed that his kind had died out, and yet... here they stood. Or rather, here he laid, would be the more proper way to put it.

The young sage spared Silas only a glance as he moved past him, feeling no real reason to hesitate, or even briefly pause in his step. Silas was just there, sitting, and watching. He clearly didn't want to be of help, and even if he had wanted to be, Roan wasn't sure he would've accepted it. He had adapted to working alone. He didn't need to grow used to another change of pace just so that Silas could vanish, just as easily as Ahab had. The thought caused Roan to grit his teeth, the feline taking the last few long strides over to where Ament laid. The scent of the dead rogue was still overpowering, and the blood that smeared the raptor's scales was enough a sign as any that he was the culprit, but the siamese shoved that from his mind. He couldn't do anything for that rogue now, and Ament was a crewmate. Savage beast as the thing was, he was meant to care for it. Taking a shuddering breath inward, Roan tested the other's name on his tongue, checking to see if the other would respond, "Ament." When the air remained deathly still, save for the sound of the pair's breathing, the sage took that as confirmation that the other was well and truly out, moving closer.

The scent of infection on the breeze was impossible to miss, and it took only a few moments for Roan's wandering paws to find the rings of infection, wincing when he saw the no doubt burning wounds. The siamese spared a glanced back towards Silas before he let his claws break forth, digging into the infected skin and tearing the wounds open once again. The sage was forced to close his eyes as he felt blood well forth, staining his paws an ugly color as he took another shuddering breath. Digging into his satchel, it wasn't long before he pulled out a clean cloth, a bit of alcohol, and some clean water in a bottle. He got to work cleaning the wounds out thoroughly, ignoring the disgust and bile that welled up in him at the sheer state that Ament was in. He did the other's neck first, then moved onto his arm, praying that the creature wouldn't awaken while he worked. Once Ament's injuries were thoroughly cleaned, Roan pulled out the bayberry, horsetail, and marigold. He mashed them into a paste, applying the poultice liberally to the reopened wounds before covering them in honey to prevent any further infections. The last thing he did was pull out his bandages, covering Ament's neck and arm carefully, so that hopefully everything would heal properly this time.

By the time Roan was done with the entire operation, his front was plastered in blood, honey, and the poultice he had made, his body smelling of a horrible combination of all present. He stared down at Ament for a moment, sheer exhaustion tugging at him before he turned his head back towards Silas, and towards town. Clearing his throat, the sage mumbled simply, "I am going to need help bringing him back to the temple. For observation." He couldn't risk Ament's wounds growing to fester again, after all.