.:*☆ GIRLS MAKE BOYS CRY — LUCKY

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]She had never really planned on becoming a healer in the first place. She had only basic knowledge of herbs when she first tried out, and yet she was still chosen, with Ninazu becoming her mentor. Now she had nothing but her medical books which she was slowly learning to read. She wasn't an Erudite anymore, but she still tried her best to retain all the knowledge she had worked to learn in the first place. Maybe she could still be useful.

By now she was just searching for herbs, satchel strapped around her mid-section. It was partly full, with both herbs and fruits to eat. She liked searching for stuff, like it was all a big scavenger hunt, but she was the only one participating. Plus it was nice to get away from everyone.

"[glow=black,2,300]Poppy for anxiety relief. It's root juice can be used for stomach aches and sores.[/glow]" she mumbles as she plucks the flower, stowing it away inside her bag. She was proud of her collection so far, as well as everything that she managed to remember. It was much better than the bare minimum she used to have.

After collecting the plant, she continued on, keeping a close eye on her surroundings. Some were hard to spot.

[member=3015]LUCKY[/member]

"[glow=black,2,300]speech[/glow]"

[LUCKY LUCIANO]

[glow=#000,1,400]BUT YOU WERE BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN — TAGS[/glow]

Lucky knew only one thing, and that was the art of being a criminal. Nabbing unsuspecting victims off the street, dealing them a few blows to the face and bruising them senseless, even snapping necks on command. Anything to please his uncle, the family patriarch. Had it not been for a growing, blooming curiosity about the dark side of his family history, he would have not been where he was today.

The lethal canine swiftly exited dry, desert lands and took cover in the humid undergrowth of the Pittian forest. Large paws trekked among the roots and nooks, weaving around rows of trees and bushes to try and find his way back to the pyramids. Limp, dangling in his jaws was the broken body of a desert-roaming antelope, its black eyes empty, having been violently stripped of its life. Crimson leaked down its neck and stained Lucky's dark muzzle, the stench of blood nearly overwhelming.

Turning around a quick corner, he did not expect to see anyone out here. Alas, there was an unfamiliar face, just casually gathering plants. Although the act of gathering was harmless in itself, his immediate reaction was to drop his catch and bare bloodstained fangs, glowing amber eyes fixed onto the fem. [glow=black,1,400]"Who are you?"[/glow] Growled he, hackles raised and bristling in alarm. Had he known that she had only recently returned to the Pitt, he would have recognized her and moved along.

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]She knew violence, but not quite in the same way. She was usually a bystander to it, though sometimes was a victim herself, only able to watch others be beaten mercilessly, whipped and chained and forced to do the work their masters didn't want to. Once she had seen her own mother as the one to receive the lashings, the memory of her at the whip's mercy the only thing she saw before she was sold off elsewhere. She never knew what had become of her after that.

It was a cruel thing, being in an inferior skin. But she had come to realize that she wasn't anymore, that she was an equal--and it was such a bizarre concept to her. The idea of being worthy was foreign to her, someone who had grown up as a slave to others. But she wasn't complaining.

Cosette turns at the sudden presence, startled by his voice and even more so the glint of his teeth, his hostile stance reminding her of her poor combat skills. She stares with wide eyes, a spike of fear running up her spine. He smelled like them, but she didn't recognize him. Oh.

"[glow=black,2,300]Oh, uh--I'm Cosette. I was a healer here, a while ago, and I recently came back.[/glow]" she explains curtly, wanting to defuse the situation before it got ugly. Why did she always find herself in these situations?

"[glow=black,2,300]speech[/glow]"

[LUCKY LUCIANO]

[glow=#000,1,400]BUT YOU WERE BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN — TAGS[/glow]

[ mentions of abuse ]

Sometimes, Lucky considered what life was like on the brunt of the stick. Sure, he was the one that dealt the blows and hits and whacks to the face and could never bat an eye to it. But, more often than not, he could see the fear in his victim's eyes. He could smell it r a d i a t i n g off of them. He could picture himself in their same shoes; he had felt the exact same way when his violent father would raise his voice at him and threaten him with brute force. Now, he was the aggressor. He had channeled his distressed childhood into strength and as a driving force behind his motivation.

There he saw it again, the smaller stranger cowering in terror of his hulking form. He supposed that his size always contributed to the fear-factor, along with his glowing amber eyes and gleaming pearly whites. There was one thing he knew for certain — after a childhood of living in fear, it was sure nice to be the one in power.

However, this situation would indeed be defused. He found this to be Cosette, apparently a former member here. He lowered his hackles and straightened his posture, assuming a non-threatening stance. Lucky's features spelled out pure confusion, and perhaps a dash of hesitance. He didn't have time to worry over nothing, so if she was indeed telling the truth, then so be it. The hellhound muttered, [glow=black,1,400]"My apologies."[/glow] He must've scared the shit out of her.

The hellhound bent down to take his kill into awaiting jaws. He didn't even spare the feline another glance before moving to carry on with the trek home, fresh cuts now visible across his flank. He appeared to be ignoring them quite well, as if they weren't even there. He couldn't let a few scratches throw a wrench in his duties, now could he?

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Scared the shit out of her indeed. She lets out a shaky sigh, realizing he wasn't, in fact, going to devour her like he was the antelope. It would be quite ironic if she ended up dying by a clan-mate not long after she returned. With that settled, she was about to turn away and continue her search, glad to have her jugular intact, when she noticed the marks on his flank. She spoke up before she could stop herself.

"[glow=black,2,300]You're hurt.[/glow]" she stopped, tensing up with realization. Damn her big mouth. "[glow=black,2,300]S--sorry. Um,[/glow]" her eyes drop down towards the ground, paws shuffling in the grass. She was just digging a hole for herself at this point. "[glow=black,2,300]It's just, ah, I can treat them for you, if you want? Those scratches, I mean.[/glow]" with her rambling done, she shuts her mouth tightly, lips pursed in a thin line.

She doubted he wanted her to treat him, at least not just after they met--but she didn't want to leave them to get infected, either. It was easy for wounds to fester in such a climate. Even if they were small, they could be a much bigger problem down the road.

"[glow=black,2,300]speech[/glow]"

[LUCKY LUCIANO]

[glow=#000,1,400]BUT YOU WERE BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN — TAGS[/glow]

He was stopped in his tracks. He hadn't been expecting the female to address him again, especially after he had scared her, but now it appeared that she was brave enough to confront him herself. At this, the hellhound turned his great head to look over his shoulder and over at the savannah, hues seemingly glowing in the dim lighting of the jungle.

She wanted to treat his scratches. Lucky gave them a quick glance over — they were a deep red, glistening with freshness, but the bleeding seemed to have been halted for now. The stinging had grown rather dull as the hellhound did his best to [sub]suppress[/sub] the pain. They were rather long across, but he didn't consider them serious. He flickered his gaze back up to Cosette and he responded, [glow=black,1,400]"They ain't nothin'."[/glow] Being the "big, tough brute" he was, he often refused most medical help, especially if it was just a few scratches. It wasn't like it was that easy for him to die, anyways.

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]She hadn't expected anything else. He seemed like the big, tough type, and so she wasn't surprised when he shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Cosette wasn't an expert--still a good ways from it, really--but she knew better than to leave wounds unattended. She didn't want to push and thus make him decide she would be his next meal, but she also didn't want to take the blame in case something happened due to those wounds. Looked like it was a no win situation.

"[glow=black,2,300]W-well, they aren't, but they can still make problems down the road. Like if they get infected.[/glow]" she explains, hoping it would convince him to let her at least clean them. "[glow=black,2,300]It'll only take a second, I promise![/glow]" before he could even respond, she began to dig through her bag, hoping to find something in there to treat the scratches.

"[glow=black,2,300]speech[/glow]"