WELL DID SHE MAKE YOU CRY? return

[ADAKIAS]

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The past few months had been quite the disastrous turn of events in both physicality and along a mental path as Sylvina found herself entering the prime time of her fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh months of age. It was a time that was meant as an avenue of self discovery and growth and, had she not given into the evolution of natural selection, would she be on her way to completing her introduction to explore different paths as a Beta. The young bengal would begin to focus her life on and what apprenticeships her soul desired to take in the feat of serving the Typhoon - the place she was growing up as the daughter of the Captain. And yet her sudden departure prevented the latter to go into full effect. Instead of a promising life - commenced on the internal turmoil of redemption to become more than just the product of a one-night stand, the domestic kitten found herself in an existential crisis. Sylvina had always been one to get herself into mischief. Whether it be with the land itself, others, or even with her own mind she clearly had a knack for delving into the depths. It had just so happened that that very mischief would lead to a harpy eagle whisking her away through the ocean air.

The events following her abrupt and somewhat violent disappearance were still and presumably forever a blur. Whatever the harpy eagle intended as a demise (perhaps food for her chicks?) for Sylvina never occurred. Be it a blessing in disguise that she fell from the bird's grasping talons and down through the thicket of trees sitting atop a dense forest. The extending leaves and branches caught her flailing frame in a blunt yet feasible caress. This was where her memories collected into a fuzzy ball, her mind unable to untwist their winding origins.

Somehow, however, she landed herself a position among a rag-tag group of thieves. The outstanding difference was that Sylvina was merely a three pound feline within a pirating crew of outcast wolves. Their vastly aggressive qualities were instantly intimidating - how could they not be? With their gaping jaws and angled incisors it was quite evident that the trio of predators were aware of their image of ruthless "kings of the jungle". And yet they didn't eat her. Despite her feisty personality and bullheaded mind, the canines took the lost Beta underneath their wings and brought her alongside their pack.

And thus began her adventures on the run. Her days were spent trekking the land alongside the much larger creatures as they scouted for resources. Keeping up with the others was the most difficult part of the entire ordeal. After all, she was a mere pipsqueak compared to the lengthy and agile wolves. Sylvina quickly learned the mannerisms of the pack the minute she'd decide to complain about the journey's strain on her smaller frame. The pirating group had no intentions of dealing with a child and made themselves and their relationship quite clear; she was to remain seen and not heard, only to participate when they needed her for schemes upon raiding other groups and clans. Her job in the group was to scout out where the "treasures" were hidden using her smaller stature and ability to climb as an advantage that nobody else in the group could provide. Within the pride of proving herself would she be allowed to reap the benefits of whatever the wolves managed to overtake. Some days it was an entire feast that she could indulge herself upon, and other days it was merely the scraps her pack managed to snatch within a retreat after a failed raid.

Nevertheless she enjoyed the life of being on the run. It wasn't as ideal as it had been in the Typhoon, yet she preferred this to the latter. Sylvina found herself growing less worried of ever finding her way back home to her family by the day and became more preoccupied on the tasks at hand. She had a purpose now, a dream that was now a reality. Any sense of adventure for a child felt like a fairy-tale come true; this just happened to have a morbid twist.

The situations that the young feline was subjected to were brutish and cruel for the eyes of an innocent to lay upon. Many times did the wide-eyed kitten watch with discern as her packmates brutishly slaughtered the uncontrollable victims upon the siege layed out by the raiding wolves. The crimson stain of blood came as a reminder to her own murderous affairs within the primary three months of her life, that being the killing of a duckling, and the bengal couldn't help but begin to give into the guilty belief that this was where she truly belonged. Wreaking havoc, creating carnage.. She still flinched at the sound of gurgling blood upon hitting the fresh air, yet Sylvina was becoming accustomed to the sound effects as she continued to perform her tasks.

It became more often than not as the weeks lagged on that the intruding canines grew tired and aimless of the conquered group's groans and protests as they watched their treasures and resources pillaged. When the time came where it was easier to slit the lifeline of a complaining creature than to listen to their outcry, Sylvina's very own resistance to the ordeal slowly and evidently diminished. She felt no hesitance when she'd sneak into their camps and homes to get an inside perspective of what loot was to be gained. She often would lay out the "drawbridge" in the situations leading up to the raids, and in doing so it left the kitten with a compact view of the population she was about to condemn. Thriving expressions on their faces, completely unaware of how their lives were about to be completely flipped upside-down. She thought nothing of it as she flicked the lever that would allow their grim reapers to cross into their homes.

She had a purpose now. It was the only mindset she was in, that she had to be in if she wanted to keep sane. She had friends now (at least that was what she saw them as) and Sylvina couldn't help but sneak her way into the affections of the wolves. The pride they showed her whenever the kitten commenced a successful raid was an emotion that she begun to crave. Their judgement was the law and worshiped by the bengal, and to achieve their approval? Hell, she'd do anything for that. She'd kill for that. She started to crave raids, enjoying the sound of pillage and terror as her pack attained a successful plunder. When they were victorious at the end of the night it meant that she'd receive the benefits of having her pack feel the satisfaction of being content - thus meaning she'd have a meal for the nights to come as well as a peaceful slumber knowing all too well that the wolves wouldn't disturb her for her performance. When she did good they left her alone, keeping to themselves as she stayed safe under their watchful protection. And if she hadn't corralled success? The bruises and scars upon her frame were evident to what happened then. She didn't blame or despise them for their dissatisfied violence upon her. Instead she followed suite of their view and felt as if she deserved the beatings; they only made her stronger. She'd do better next time. She had to.

And then, all of a sudden, her life changed. Just as it had initially did, Sylvina was carried away by a harpy eagle in her sleep. This time she was almost eight months old and far less clueless to the way the world was. It was peculiar really how the change of events in her life were marked by the undesired transportation of a bird - she didn't know why being that all the emotions she felt towards the situation was pure and utter rage. The eagle dropped the teenage feline into a nest of eaglets, their mouths open in eagerness as she fell upon their sharp beaks. A sudden scream would erupt from her jaws as she batted and swatted the young babes to the side, her hackles raised and ears pinned at the stressful situation. She had no idea where she was, why she hadn't gotten free from the grasp and -

It was no surprise that, with all the movements she was making, Sylvina would fall from the nest. Wide green colored hues would stare up at the treetops in panic as she fell while desperately reaching out her paws to try and grasp on to anything, to no avail. The sound of her body hitting the jungle floor was loud and obviously out of place, however the familiar bengal couldn't do anything about it as her body lay passed out in a heap of broken bones.

[PEPPINO]

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//which bones are broken?

It was not in his nature to harm, let alone go on raids and pillage, or whatever else it was people did when they decided more conflict was a great idea. He was more so the person picking up the mess left afterward- that of the people themselves, not any sort of damage to the land or establishments. Pip had...privately considered accompanying The Typhoon whenever they went off to cement their awful relationship with The Pitt, if only so there was someone with them to attend to wounds right there and then, as opposed to forcing them all to limp home with their bared injuries. The reason he hadn't wasn't out of fear of the fighting -despite his own complete and utter lack of experience with it- but instead because he knew himself, and he knew that regardless of which side of the conflict the person fell under, he would help them. He didn't think his fellows would appreciate one of their own working on wounds inflicted on their enemies. They would view it as an act of treason of some sort, wouldn't they? Sometimes he wished he could know how they did it, how they could turn away from someone in need with no remorse.

But he didn't want to know, not really, for fear of what he would learn.

So he kept about his business, working on the first-aid pouches, even gathering seeds with plans to grow his own garden. He was considering placing buckets full of water around the territory in case of another fire when, while making his way through the trees, heard the sound of something falling through branches. Or someone. The canine didn't hesitate to pick up speed, heading for the origin, and when he arrived, it was to a feline motionless on the ground, motionless, potentially unconscious and with what were very likely broken bones.

Pip didn't want to touch her, because he couldn't know the extent of her injuries yet. There were scrapes from where she hit the branches, though, and he pushed the concern back behind professional calm. "Can you hear me? I'm here to help you." He might have to resort to herbal alternatives of waking her.

[align=right][i]INFORMATION

[ADAKIAS]

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( her left shoulder is popped out of place and her front left paw is broken at the ankle joint, her right hind leg is broken at the femur and she has multiple cracked ribs, lots of open gashes/scrapes and blunt force bruising to happen! )

It was no surprise that such a fall would cause a creature of her size to be completely knocked out unconscious. And so there she lay in a heap of her own body - her limbs awkwardly folded as she breathed shortly against the jungle floor.

( oof sorry for the short reply )

[PEPPINO]

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//don't worry about it!!

It was...difficult to know what was broken, at times, when he had no way of seeing through skin and muscle to bone; he had never had to treat someone with broken bones yet, so the task was daunting, enough that he momentarily searched for Junji before remembering that at the moment, Pip was the only necro mamba. He further calmed himself forcibly, reiterating that if he became panicked and anxious, it would very likely worsen the situation further. From her breathing, Pip surmised her ribs had taken damage, likely broken, though she wasn't spitting up blood or coughing, which meant that, fortunately, her lungs remained intact, at least for the time being. If he shifted her and it turned out there were rib pieces, that could lead to a puncture, so he wouldn't move her until she regained consciousness.

There wasn't anything he could do for her ribs, so with gentle, careful movements, making certain not to jostle her, the young canine examined her limbs. The front left paw he noted first. There was no compound fracture, thankfully, which were messy, but it wasn't as though he could see precisely anything. There was swelling around the tarsus area, and if it was broken, he would need to immobilize the bones distal and proximal to the area via splint. However, he would not create one just yet, moving on to the shoulder, which was clearly dislocated, and he wouldn't be able to realign it until he knew she wasn't in danger of her ribs worsening. The hind leg -what he could make of it, from how she laid- had swelling at the femur area.

Again, he would need to move her for that. For now, he decided to dress the gashes from the branches, gently cleaning them with saline and applying comfrey poultices, over which went plantain leaves. She would likely be very sore, so he made a mental note to arrange a warm salt bath for her later.

The canine stepped away, rummaging in his satchel, retrieving materials to fashion a splint. He would have to measure the sticks to her limb, and he broke off pieces to a suitable length. Around part of her paw and up the ulna Pip wrapped a padded cloth, to cushion the splint when he secured it, which was going to be...tricky. In the end, he had the opposite side's stick kept in place via a stone to prop it against, with a paw pressing the closest side's stick in place while he used his jaws to tie them firmly.

It was the most he could do for now without moving her too much.

//edit because i am dumb
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[ADAKIAS]

( smol bump for more replies before i have her wake up <3 )

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"][ ooc ] sorry for late reply i was trying to gather muse for one of my characters to match fdslkjsdfkl

His world has always been filled with rosy memories and a resonating lack of sound. Noiselessness revolves around Elijah’s tiny form, frail and deaf to the events that unfold before him, wide eyes starry in nature. The voice of his heart, beating within his chest, is unknown to him. And yet the artefacts of his younger months are filled with heart beats, reverberating against the walls of his small mind, hammering in beats. The image of being nestled within his mother’s embrace, curled up and eyes closed. Warmth swells within his chest, a palette of soft colours come to memory. The moments blur and mesh, murmurs of a beautiful hum. All the nightmarish moments the child has encountered come as static, painted in a sea of grey, darkened clouds. Ugliness spills at the seams, an overflowing bucket. A shaken breath overwhelms him. Whenever he thinks back, he feels himself freeze over. For a moment it is as if his being has left his body, frozen in time, before he is drawn back – feelings suppressed because they do not fit into his reimagining of the world’s panorama. He has only lived four months but the child, since his introduction to the residents of the island, has seen only misery and misfortune.

The innocence of a child is like a jewel. It glistens and refracts holy light in every angle, every precise edge and cut, but it shatters upon impact. Shards like star dust disperse, a gorgeous but bittersweet rain of crystals scatter along the ground. Like a plague, it manifests itself within him. He used to trust the entirety of the universe, accepted it no matter the spines that were dappled along its back. The boy simply loves too much for his own good. Gullible, too trusting, unable to realise the ones who were out to hurt him. The rats have taught him that his wonderland is tainted with the mark of his enemies, the ones who seek to hurt him. Royal blood dissolves his vision, the rich purple that drains down his sister’s cheek. As the child grows restless from the recurring remnants of that night, so do the rodents who begin to chitter and move. They move as a swarm, a dangerous hive, beady eyes searching back and forth as if their prince were in danger. His breath shudders, emotions unravelling like smoke to be breathed in through the nostrils of his rats, Thirteen’s gaze turning towards Elijah in concern.

‘You are safe – no more dangers, little one.’ He feels no comfort in those words. Even though he knows the one who had hurt Stella is now gone, this has been his third nightmare this week. He has been unable to sleep during the night, passing out by day only to wake up. Elijah can’t even seek the comfort of his own heart, unable to hear or feel the pulsations in his chest when he forces himself to rise. Breaths are sharp, air sucked into his lungs as if he were drawing an arrow. Thirteen, his mind searches desperately. The rats, obeying and understanding his needs, all scurry away, leaving behind the dark-furred rodent with the scar on its back. The creature looks at him, worry dresses its face before it quietly moves towards him, hopping onto Elijah’s back and climbing onto his head. There are small nubs that have begun to form upon the demidemon’s head, baby blue horns that match his eyes. ‘Adventuring again, Elijah?’ The child feigns a painful smile, dipping his head in a nod. His expression is drenched with fatigue, unsure if mother will be very happy with him leaving the house when he is so tired.

Unit One, check the exits for me, he calls, moving towards the door. His rats dashing towards various rooms, shifting their attention from one place to another. ‘Elijah,’ his companion speaks again but the winged boy gives a brief laugh, aware of what his friend was about to say. Scio, the ragdoll responds, interrupting Thirteen, before addressing the critters again, I want Unit Two and Three to accompany me, obsecro. To his command, a wave of rodents follow behind him. While his army cannot follow him into his dreams or his mind, he feels safe wandering on his own when they are around him. The creatures do not move with him out in the open, they move through bushes and burrows underground, shuffling carefully. Four more rats join the boy on his back, some resting upon the rustled feathers of his wings while others perched upon his head. Thirteen clings against one of Elijah’s growing horns, watching behind him in silence. Memories are like the beat of a drum, low and threatening as he remembers moments filled with decay and an eyeless frame. It was a sight not to be seen by children, rotten and filled with sin. If watching his fathers fight Caesar after attacking Stella wasn’t enough of a horrid sight, the appearance of Argus’ corpse and missing face was a haunting ghost, burned directly into memory. He doesn’t cry anymore but his feelings become still, eyes the window of a broken child.

Elijah may be damaged, but the boy believes he can be mended. Positivity is an awful thing, instilling hope into a lost cause that was the demiangel. Although his first four months have been corrupted with painful thoughts, he never thought of himself as capable of taking revenge, harming others for the sake of it. Some may look to the brown boy as a thief considering the number of rats and units he had working beneath him, all trained to listen to his command because of his natural affinity with pests. As a demidemon of infestation, some pirates simply didn’t trust the sight of rats all peering at them, faces unreadable as that of a wild animal. Perhaps once can say that Elijah is a thief of privacy, dispersing his rodents to collect information for him, alert the boy if someone were in danger or was a possible threat to his bane of existence. He is fearful of getting hurt, quivering at the thought that he needs others to scout ahead. The rats would do almost anything for Elijah. He is their prince, uncrowned but idolised, looked at as their protector. It is a mutual contract. He keeps the creatures safe in return for Elijah’s own protection. If Elijah were to so much as doubt his survival, a plague of rats will swarm towards the one threatening him, clambering on top and biting again and again. The boy, however, would never wish to condone this kind of reaction. The action of his rats reflected on him, extensions of his being.

‘A scream,’ Thirteen alerts the boy, the rodent standing on two legs. The movement of the rats have stopped, some flinching at the sound as they hear crashes and thuds. Elijah hesitates at first, feeling the discomfort of his companions. They know that there is an eagle nest up ahead, worried about the possibility of being plucked off from the ground, killed with the tight grip of talons. Vade in domum tuam, the child addresses the second unit. The smaller of a group he has, the less likely they will be attacked as the rest of his rodents move closer towards him. His wings lower from their original tucked position as to cloak over the creatures before his eyes turn towards the source, hues narrowed slightly to form his brave face. Words melt and reform in his brain, the child cautious when he begins his approach, chest rising and falling in discomfort. The image of Peppino begins to clear into view, nervousness settling in his stomach. Agony. There was once a moment where thinking of the canine brought him sweet feelings, butterflies in a childish love. He adored the sage for simply being compassionate, for saving him, but there was no real reason. Elijah simply loved everyone, some more than others.

He looks beyond the older male’s form, semi-glowing hues recognising the contorted figure of a girl. It was another sight that didn’t fit into his perspective of beauty. It doesn’t belong in his land of fantasy, a monstrosity of wonderland. The frame is unnatural, Elijah biting his bottom lip. From the broken branches surrounding the Bengal, he can deduce that the bangs and loud noises were the result of – ‘A fall,’ Thirteen confirms, tail curling behind its miniscule body. Scio, he weakly replies. She must have broken her bones from the impact, Elijah only just realising that Pip had begun to work on assisting the girl. If Peppino had voiced his concerns about treating the girl, he might have felt guilty. Mama had stepped down because he was too busy, because he was stressed about being soothsayer and needed more time for his brother and sisters. It might have been Elijah’s fault. His heart condition sometimes worsened. Would Peppino blame him for it? He looks down, swallowing a shivered breath in a hopeless attempt to hide his insecurities.

And yet Elijah cannot simply stand there saying nothing, the boy pressing a soft smile. “Do you need any more help?” he asks finally but, from the looks of it, Peppino had handled everything fine without him. He felt useless around the other pirates, only staring at the way the fem's body has been dressed with herbs and supported sticks where the bones must have broken. She was a sorry sight, nothing that the child should be looking at. And yet, with the presence of his rats around him, he felt like he could tackle just about anything...even Caesar.