06-30-2018, 03:22 PM
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The ocelot frowned slightly as she heard Goldie's explanation - well, explanation for not having an explanation. She disliked not knowing how these injuries came to be, but it seemed doubtful that Goldie could remember them. Tempted to take a peak into the youngster's mind, she shook away that notion; if the child couldn't remember, she doubted she'd be able to get anything more than fragments at best. Wasted effort, and a bit dangerous with the recentness of the head trauma.
"It'll stop hurting soon; these scratches will heal easily enough, but I'll need you to come back with me to the ship for bandages. I'm not going to bandage them now, with the ocean breeze flinging sand everywhere," Rosemary told her, trying to speak slowly and less academically than usual for her. In truth, she disliked patching up Goldie here, on the beach in the very definition a compromised environment. Bacteria in the salt water, sand kicked up everywhere, and plenty of scavenging crabs ready to butt their claws into whatever they thought they could eat. Tilting her head, she added with a glance at Argus, "It'd be best if someone who could fly would carry you back, to avoid getting grime in those wounds." Rosemary's control over air certainly worked, but it was also a work in progress; she didn't want to overestimate her greenhorn flying abilities with a sick kitten with her.
Half-sighing as she heard Argus's answer, she tried to refrain from giving the wolf an annoyed look, but she ended up looking irritated anyway. "Exact dosage, please. How many seeds? Crushed or whole? How long ago?" she asked, her tone flat. Rosemary found herself immensely annoyed that this idiot presumed that she didn't know what a basic concussion was, but completely blanked on giving her necessary and relevant information.
"It'll stop hurting soon; these scratches will heal easily enough, but I'll need you to come back with me to the ship for bandages. I'm not going to bandage them now, with the ocean breeze flinging sand everywhere," Rosemary told her, trying to speak slowly and less academically than usual for her. In truth, she disliked patching up Goldie here, on the beach in the very definition a compromised environment. Bacteria in the salt water, sand kicked up everywhere, and plenty of scavenging crabs ready to butt their claws into whatever they thought they could eat. Tilting her head, she added with a glance at Argus, "It'd be best if someone who could fly would carry you back, to avoid getting grime in those wounds." Rosemary's control over air certainly worked, but it was also a work in progress; she didn't want to overestimate her greenhorn flying abilities with a sick kitten with her.
Half-sighing as she heard Argus's answer, she tried to refrain from giving the wolf an annoyed look, but she ended up looking irritated anyway. "Exact dosage, please. How many seeds? Crushed or whole? How long ago?" she asked, her tone flat. Rosemary found herself immensely annoyed that this idiot presumed that she didn't know what a basic concussion was, but completely blanked on giving her necessary and relevant information.
I FEEL SO HUNGRY —
— Dear diary, I don't know what's going on, but something's up / The dog won't stop barking, and I think my TV is bust / Every channel is the same, it's sending me insane / And earlier somebody bit me, what a fucking day / The sky is falling / It's fucking boring / I'm going braindead, isolated / God is a shithead / And we're his rejects / Traumatized for breakfast / I can't stomach any more survival horror / Dear diary, I feel itchy like there's bugs under my skin / The dog's gone rabid (shut the fuck up) / Doing my head in —— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?