A basket felt better than being carried by the scruff.  Safer.  More comfortable.  As such the child slept like the dead, the only sign of her being alive the shallow rise and fall of her chest.  Once or twice, her paw twitched, a sign of her uneasy dreams.  Even asleep, she recognizes the change in elevation as her father lowers the basket.  For a second, it seemed she may wake up, but soon drifted off again, wondering why it smelled like the sea when the last place she remembered had been the dry desert.

Home.  Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her.  Home smelled like the sea, but they hadn't been home.  They'd been trying to get there.

[ friendly/healing powerplay is allowed ]

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯

The bay had been quiet most of the morning.  Peaceful, at least, for the time being.  The most disturbance to the stillness Raziel had expected was the shenanigans of his own daughter, Suvi, not someone crying for a healer.  'We need a medic!' That sounded like Kian.  Unable to resist the call for help by his younger brother, the direwolf bolted towards the sound, ears flicked back as he registered the endfield as the other, Kian's twin. He's looked better.  After a moment, Raziel further realized the tiny figure sheltered by a basket had to be Keona, who'd been taken by the Pitt.  "Oh dear," the faerie murmured, brows creasing sharply in worry.

Seamus, despite all of his faults, was still family, and the sight of blood staining his fur made Raziel uneasy.  "Did the Pitt do this?" That's who had taken Keona, last he checked.  Of course, his family had an unhealthy knack for finding trouble, if something had inflected this, well, he wouldn't be shocked.  The large canine shuffled closer to his brother, not eager to crowd the sleeping child, injured as she was.  No external wounds on her, he noted, a pit growing in his stomach.  With breathing like that, he had a feeling, all too familiar to the pain she'd like be suffering.

So, he turned his eyes on his younger brothers, narrowing them on the endfield.  "Tá tú i ndáiríre ina leathcheann." How the hell did they end up like this?

"How much blood have you lost, deartháir?" I'm not losing any family today, no matter the broken history between.  "Fan le linn, ceart go leor?

[ ooc ] ninja'd but didn't really affect baku's contribution so i've kept it the way it was

He wasn't aware there was still pirates left over in The Pitt when he had returned, their residue smell clinging to the furs of the returning members. Truthfully, he could hardly tell them apart because he was awful at names and facing others properly. He never took the time to look at the individual features planted on their face. He could mistake a black cat with the name of a white cat, a white cat with the name of a black cat. His memory was perhaps yet another reason as to why he wasn't well liked within The Typhoon. He's butchered the names of others before, insulted his fellow pirates because it was easier to remember. Bakugou was no more than a bully - a bully who was easy to return the favour to because he made it way too easy. He was just an vulnerable as the exhaustion which plagued Keona, the blood that stuck to Seamus' skin. His eyes hover coldly over the faeries, no words escaping his dry lips. He was still in the midst of cooling off after the events with Guru, feelings were still swarming within him like a tornado of fire. For that reason, Bakugou was hesitant to approach. He maintained enough of a distance that his metallic scent was clouded by the thicker smell of blood, dry but deep.

He noticed the sound of cracking and falling trees before he realised that moments before the tiny raptor had been screeching, not even realising the that Masie had been there in the first place. Bakugou wasn't focusing. He was letting himself be way too tunnel-visioned, fixated on the murmuring thoughts in his head over what was in front of him. It was dangerous to let himself be like that. Right now, he feels more paranoid than ever. Someone could want him dead and he wouldn't be listening, wouldn't be listening for the heavy step of paws or hooves, lightly snapping twigs as an assassin comes right behind him. His fur rises at the thought, feeling constantly threatened. He gives himself a few deep breaths, finally approaching the scene after Owen had left after their soothsayer. The ragdoll was in no mood to deal with a grumpy raptor trainer, uninterested in his squabbles. Sanguine eyes sweep across the wounds that decorated Seamus. He realises the blind girl was injured too, ribs caved in because they had been broken, shattered. "When was the last time they ate?" he asks, thinking further ahead in future. "Just so I can get them somethin' to eat after Junji treats 'em."

Loud.  All the voices, all the noise, did it.  The child's eyes fluttered, then opened.  The first thing she noticed was the fact she was resting inside something.  A basket?  Brows furrowed, the kitten tugged weakly on her mental connection with her uncle, sensing his nearby presence.  The other too -- she heard his accented voice mixing admist the voices.  Crewmates.  Crewmates.

The sudden realize nearly brought her up on her paws, if not for the sharpness of pain that ambushed her body.  More than a scrape or a cut; pain she was unfamiliar with, unused to with every inhale and exhale.  "D... Da?"  Nearby too.  Relief shagged her shoulders, even as she tried to find a better rhythm of breathing.  So they had gotten home.  To the ocean breeze and chatter of pirates.  To a gentler sun and jungle trees.

Still.  Too loud. She shrinks into the basket, as much as she could, small form shaking.  Like an ambush. Surrounded.  She hated it.  Eyes off.  Too loud.  Just go away.

tá mé i dtiúin — ✯