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Roan was not an overly friendly person. It was a fact that most The Typhoon knew at this point, and one that most new joiners learned before too long. He also wasn't an idiot, either. He had often heard the rumors about himself, and the rumblings around the group as a whole. People speculating how he had ended up the way he had – wondering how someone who excelled as a medic could be so cold as a person. Some thought that perhaps Roxanne had been abusive – a fact easily disproven just by looking at her relationship with her son. Others still had put forth that perhaps he was so cold due to the lack of a father figure in his life. And while it would be somewhat deceitful to say that Seamus's absence had never influenced his development in some way, that also wasn't the case. The most common answer that everyone assumed was that he had just been born that way. Calm and collected, ready to help when it came to healing, but cold and snappish otherwise. Older members of The Typhoon, though, knew this wasn't the truth. They had been able to see Roan when he was just a bright eyed and bushy tailed kit, delighted to see everything and anything the world around him had to offer. Even when he had first become a medic, he had still been so friendly and warm, taking after his mama's extroverted example.

And then, Roxanne had been hurt. That had been the first real instigating event that had made Roan see just how awful the world could truly be. His mama had returned from her jungle juice ritual, and the boy had figured that she would come back like everyone else – shaken up, but fine. That hadn't been the case, though. Instead, she had returned injured and bleeding, terrified of what she had seen and surely about to bleed out if he hadn't stepped in. Still, the entire incident had been so terribly hard for him. To have to press his paws against his mother's wounds, and feel the warmth of her blood stain his paws. He had been forced to disconnect himself from what he was doing, merely allowing his mind to protect itself as he worked to make sure his mama would be okay. Be had grown detached... and cold. Things hadn't gotten any better, after that incident. Mere days afterwards, the meteor had struck, and The Typhoon had been left in shambles. Houses had collapsed, families had been torn apart, and there had been so many injured, dying, or dead. The temple had been packed, and Roan had been forced to deal with it all mostly on his own, his mentor nowhere in sight and everyone stretched so thin that there was no way they could help him. During the aftermath of the meteor, Roan had been forced to form even more of a shell around himself – it was the only way for him to keep sane, as he watched patient after patient stumble in, either being healed by his paws, or being lost.

Jaime's death had probably been the last straw, in the grand scheme of things. The soothsayer had seen the beginning signs of the mutations gripping Jaime's form in their claws, but there was so little that he could do. Part of him had known that his medicine wouldn't be enough, and yet still... he had hoped. He had hoped and prayed that his little brother would turn out alright... only for everything to be lost. Only for Jaime to end up bleeding out onto the sand, with Roan forced to do nothing but stand nearny and watch. After that, he had known that he couldn't afford to let his emotions in, anymore. He couldn't afford to grow attached. Because if he did, he would end up falling apart, and he couldn't do that. Because if he fell apart, then The Typhoon would be left without the medic it seemed to so desperately need, and he would have even more blood on his paws.

All of these factors were what had led to Roan being so distant from everyone, including the majority of his family. He had kept his youngest siblings far from his mind and his heart, knowing better than to let them in. If he did, they would just end up hurting him, somehow. Of course, he had expected that hurt to come from one of them being injured. He hadn't expected it to come from one of them causing him such intense pain. The same agony he had felt the first time that Roxanne had been attacked, and left for dead. Once more, he would be forced to press his paws to his mama's wounds, and scramble to keep the person he loved most dearly alive. And it was all because of Alexandre.

Unlike Diya, Roan hadn't been aboard the Anchored Tempest that day. Instead, he had been near the beach, scouring the shore for valuable herbs and anything else of interest. His attention was dragged away from his herb hunt, however, by the frantic call of an NPC, whose eyes were wide, and full of fear, "S-Soothsayer Roan! Officer Diya is calling for you! I think something... I think something happened to the Captain." The siamese was frozen on the spot for a moment after he heard those words, a strange sense of numbness and sorrow filling him. He said nothing to the NPC, merely grabbing his satchel in his jaws and shoving past them, towards the Tempest. He ignored the way that tears were stinging his eyes, pretending that they were merely a result of how fast he was going. It was just the cold wind... it had to be.

When he finally reached the captain's quarters, his worst fears were realized. The smell of blood was unbearably thick on the air, mingled in and wrapped up in the scent of his mama. He shook his head briefly as he stood near the doorway, feeling tears staining his fur and stubbornly wiping them away. He then moved inside, his voice hoarse and vaguely strangled, "Diya... step back from her. I need to be able to patch the wound." His tone was meant to be commanding, but it instead came off as somewhat forced, the siamese's jaws clenched as he approached Roxanne's collapsed form. The gashes on her neck were still so fresh and it left him reeling, the scent of her blood almost too much for him to take. Still... he had to get to work. He had to make sure that she survived this. He had to, or he would never be able to forgive himself. So, even with his paws shaking, the soothsayer reached into his satchel, pulling out a generous roll of bandages and several supplies.

He was glad that the scent of herbs was overwhelming enough to somewhat stave off the scent of blood as he got to work, mixing together the usual poultice of bayberry, honey, horsetail, and marigold. He then aimed to apply it generously to Roxie's neck, in order to prevent infections. He then took his roll of bandages, aiming to wrap bandages over the large punctures and press them down to apply pressure. They would hopefully be enough to prevent anymore blood loss, and ensure that the captain wouldn't bleed out. Unfortunately, blood transfusions weren't exactly something a mere feline could pull off, which meant all Roan could hope was that his mama hadn't already lost too much blood.

After the work was done, the feline couldn't help feeling as though it had been too short. Too easy. Wasn't there anything more that he could do for her? His mama's blood was stained into his paws and yet... there wasn't even anything more he could do to ensure she survived. His jaw was still clenched as he turned back to Diya, managing to grit out, "Can... can you get her to the temple? I need to monitor her condition. To make sure that she..." Survives. The word went unsaid, Roan merely shaking his head stubbornly from side to side. As he waited for an answer, his claws dug against the floor of the Anchored Tempest, his stomach twisting painfully. His entire body was a hurricane of emotions that he couldn't control – grief, sadness, worry, anger. It was all too much. He wished he could just... shut off.