SOOTHSAYER ❝ ROAN ❞ THE TYPHOON

For the most part, Roan liked to think that he had adapted to his current form fairly well. It was definitely a little unnerving, being in the form of a zombified feline, but it wasn't as if he could just stop living. He had continued his duties on as usual, albeit with a few minor changes. Such as making the choice to weave various different flowers and herbs into his pelt. The stitching actually made this much easier, since it allowed him to twist the stems into his own pelt – something that was incredibly weird not to feel. This had practically become absolutely necessary, since the soothsayer refused to go around smelling of death for the rest of his days. Not only was it unpleasant, but it also didn't exactly mesh well with his job as a medic. If he constantly smelled of death all the time, then everyone would assume that he was horrid at his job, and patients were constantly dying on his watch. He knew there were many within the group who knew him well enough to know that wasn't the case, but there were also plenty who didn't.

Nevertheless, the soothsayer thought that he was doing pretty well. Unfortunately, the world had a way of coming and messing things up when he thought they were going alright – albeit, this time, in a fairly small way. He had been on his way back from a usual jungle stroll for herbs to bring back to the temple, and he had just begun to cross over the threshold from the jungle to the beach. It was usually a bit of a tight squeeze through the brush, but he didn't often have any problems, coming out the other side without issue. This time, however, one of the branches caught on his pelt, the splintered stick of wood managing to perfectly worm its way beneath one of his stitches. Not immediately noticing this, he continued his way forward, only to hear – and feel – a horrible rip form up his side. Cursing up a storm, Roan hastily stumbled forth from the jungle, falling into a seated position against the sand as he turned to inspect the damage that had been done. It wasn't pretty, with a large gash beginning to seep blood out onto his light blue fur. With a huff, he reached down into his satchel, beginning to grope around for bandages. As he did so, he found himself muttering, "Stupid gods-damned zombie body... these stitches are so sensitive... one of these days my head is just going to fall off..." He was exaggerating, of course, but his frustration made him feel like he was at wit's end.

SOOTHSAYER ❝ ROAN ❞ THE TYPHOON

The approach of his half-sister caused Roan to lift his head, blue eyes moving from the slowly bleeding wound over to the small dealer. His face seemed to relax slightly, shifting from the grimacing expression he had been sporting. He sighed before shifting a little, sitting up so that his side wouldn't be against the sand, "I'm alright, Keona. I was just hunting for herbs, and a branch managed to snag the side of my pelt and... well, pulled. It doesn't look great, but it's hardly the worst thing I've seen." The worst part, really, was how slowly his blood was moving, clotted from decomposition and staining his usually clean blue fur. He was so focused on the unpleasantness of it all that he almost didn't notice Aphra approaching, his pelt pricking with hostility as soon as she spoke. The soothsayer sighed heavily, rolling his eyes before he muttered sarcastically, "Oh, why didn't I think of that? Just go into another body! Oh wait, I did think of it, and it didn't work. I don't have enough control over this power yet to go back." He dismissed her with a shake of his head and a snort, eventually triumphantly pulling out the bandages he had been looking for.

Thankfully, it didn't seem as though he was the only medical professional who would be dealing with this. His head turned when he heard his aunt dismissing Aphra as well, a soft bit of laughter leaving the medic as he shook his head. As she grew closer, asking whether or not he would need help, he gained a contemplative look on his face. Eventually he nodded, admitting softly, "Unfortunately, I do think I'll need a bit of help... I was just going to patch it up with bandages, but that's only a temporary solution. And I've never sewn anything before, let alone myself." None of his stitches had ever ripped before, and he hadn't even considered the possibility, so why would he have prepared?

SOOTHSAYER ❝ ROAN ❞ THE TYPHOON

Admittedly, the thought of a needle working its way in and out of his skin was... not the most desirable, despite his current state. After all, he had just end up in this form against his will, it wasn't as if he had already gone through all of the needle poking that currently held him together. Unfortunately, it wasn't as if he had much of a choice, and he did trust Rosemary, so he relented, nodding before he spoke, "That sounds good to me... I'll try my best to not be a clumsy student." He then offered her a bit of an uneasy smile, clearly trying his best to put on a brave face. It was sort of ironic, having Rosemary offer to teach him something for his own good, when he was supposed to be the teacher between the two of them - even though Rosemary wasn't really a sage because she needed the teaching. Either way, the tabby ended up staying still as his aunt prepared with her disinfectant and the needle that she needed. Keeping himself as relaxed as he could possibly be in his current scenario, Roan only ended up wincing a couple of times as his side was carefully patched up. He chuckled roughly in reply to Rosemary's question, nodding slowly, "Yeah, I'm fine... just pinches a bit when it goes in an out. I'm sure it's not as bad as it would be if I wasn't... you know." He gestured vaguely at himself, clearly referring to his own zombification.