what I've done -- transformation (mdc prompt: death)

[Keona.]

✯ — female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

She could smell blood.  Taste the bitterness in the air.  Her ears flicked back as she followed it warily.  Pale sea-green hues flickered in concern as she found herself close to her father, almost entirely subconsciously.  Without any concept of sight - and she did not want to touch the other's injuries to find out - Keona was not sure how bad it looked, but with the extremely strong smell of blood, she figured it was definitely not a minor wound.

"Can I help?" The tiny fae did not want to step on anyone's toes and tilted her head upward, towards the sound of her father's accented voice, brows creased lightly.  Keona was not a medic, in any sense.  She knew little to nothing about the art of healing.  She did not however, want to be useless.  It was a nagging worry in the back of her mind that maybe that was exactly how she seemed to most.  Hopefully not, but it was a concern she often wrestled with.

Maybe her father had something she could do to help though.  Water.  Fetch a- no wait, he asked Linux to find a medic.  Herbs?  Did Goldie have herbs on her?  Or did they need some?  What if she did not know how to recognize their scent? 

The kitten's tail flicked to-and-fro, even as she frowned lightly at the jackal's name.  That did not seem right.  Keona had spoken to Papercutter on a few occasions, once when neither of them had known anything about a butterfly, and she knew his scent.  Knew the feeling of his presence.  The latter felt off, but she had thought for sure she'd recognized his scent and voice.  Perhaps it'd been too long since the two had spoken.

code by spacexual