09-11-2018, 02:18 AM
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8.4pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]There is a quiet moment of contemplation, a few beats where his voice faded into silence before another rose, faint the hum drawn from the child. Caught within his mind various thoughts arose, snatches of the days spent locked away where the darkness had seemed a cloying present, curling about him fingers sharpened into fine points and still they followed. He knew well the things he saw held no trace of reality about them, shapes strange and grotesque, mockery of a humanoid structure twisting until it fit no mould beyond its own. Nothing more than hallucinations drawn forth from a mind driven to a point of exhastion – so why was it his mind spoke of their truth, made them feel as though he touched silk, slippery and smooth, skin crawling though he was incapable of not reaching.
Head snapped up, dark eye blinking as a voice rose, unfamiliar to him. The one before him was not familiar, one of a multitude he had not had the displeasure of meeting in the dark space, yet her tone, all too chipper to be real surely, never hinted at hostility. Strange was it but then there had been none when Bastille had swept them up, unwelcome touch he had struggled to fight back against, speaking in a tone meant to calm and making promises he thought false.
“If ya call keepin da Typhoon leader's son an 'ealer locked up important sure, but nah, don' tink dey missed me much,” upon dark lips a smile took hold yet compared to Thea's it was sharp – all teeth and no humour. He had been greeted by few, amongst them the one man he despised who thought better of looking upon his own grandchild kindly, deeming his place as a healer fit more for scorn. In truth he was surprised he lingered so long, allowed himself to wallow within the internal hatred, but then he might truly be the pathetic disappointment his grandfather spoke of.
Her voice is gentle and soft, a summer breeze, unlike those he had grown accustomed to. Most held a more gruff tone, were not beyond allowing their more colourful words to shine through, of which Silus himself was prone to, and held accents which altered the way of their speech, though none softened it. This was different for her own was clear yet gave a gentle edge to each word, warmed it though the tone was one more inclined to the negative. “Is okay, me own fault,” softening in turn he allowed his smile to close, given a more genuine touch as he turned to regard the canine. Spun silver spread across pearly ivory, he found himself caught up for a moment for he had no chance to properly see her before, a pretty sight yet one which drew his thoughts back to a few others. He found the want to speak of Jacob raising, uttering the words of his demise yet held it back. It was personal business only the members of the Roux family knew of, even the greater majority of the crew not given the chance to learn of it.
“An I know you,” there is no bite in the words, more a dejected, broken sorrow, something the child had felt in those first moments. If he might be deemed a traitor for his wants so be it but he had felt it all the same, burning in his stomach as he watched the wolf tear into the captured lion, so young yet still wanting to step in and help. He had not know the way of things then, a time before he had been deemed a Sage and thus had never needed to learn of the inner workings, though he cared not for them now a month on from becoming a healer, but had seen the pain inflicted and wanted it ended. Yet he had been unsuccessful in his search for Moon once all had been done, performed in secret in hopes he might offer some assistance, and now he looked upon the other with a shadowed eye, pushing aside the memories.
“Not really, but neitha ar ya,” as he allowed the words to rise he took a few seconds to mull over his next, wondering what to say. “Am sorry fer what 'appened but a kid can' do much, an he... dat fuck wasn' right.” Still was the knowledge of what Decius had done hidden, kept locked away by the few he had been able to take of their own crew, yet Silus held some idea of what he had done. It had been sometime since the wolf had simply disappeared and the influx of injury had slowed, all he had dealt with in recent weeks easily tied to sources close at hand, and so he put the blame for it all upon the wolf readily.
He opened his mouth to answer Moon's inquiry but then it seemed Bast thought it best to make his entrance, a snort arising instead of the intended answer. From what Silus had seen he was not by far a bad leader, in truth he saw similarities between Bast and his own father, both pushing to better thing for their people and thinking little of their own health, but then one was mortal while the other was a seemingly immortal demi-God. “Is Silus, not squirt, fucker,” though an edge was present it seemed teasing, given no real bite. He held no energy to argue the point, much wasted upon the journey getting here for his health was on a decline, it seemed fucking yourself over for others run in the family after all, his attention briefly touching on Moon once more. Strange was it that he was the only one to speak so roughly while even his leader seemed more open to things, but then it hadn't been Bast who had felt the claws of their crew.
Flipping open their satchel he began to pull out a few jars, the lids tapped so the contents wouldn't be able to get out. Within was a rather bright shade of orange, an almost viscus fluid more like gel then anything, three large ones pushed forward. “Elps wit burns, made em me self an yeah, been tested,” on his own patients no less when it had been in a developmental state and only recently upon the Rosebloods. Though it would do little for third degree it had proven to help sooth first and second, the mix numbing the skin and leaving it feeling cool to the touch, some of the ingredients able to keep infection away. “Isn' much I know but I wanta say I'm... sorry fer bein a brat I wasn' tinkin straight.”
Seemingly remembering himself once more he delved back into his bag, pulling out a small bundle. “Des as well,” as he spoke he threw them towards Bast, the bundle landing before him though not opening. A large swath of fabric tied in a knot within was a good number of mini muffins he had picked up at Luca's bakery before leaving, the hard travel, almost none stop as he wanted this over with, meaning they were still relatively fresh. "Don' tell Luca or 'e'll 'ave me hide, he wasn' too 'appy ta be eaten but den he kinda deserved it."
Head snapped up, dark eye blinking as a voice rose, unfamiliar to him. The one before him was not familiar, one of a multitude he had not had the displeasure of meeting in the dark space, yet her tone, all too chipper to be real surely, never hinted at hostility. Strange was it but then there had been none when Bastille had swept them up, unwelcome touch he had struggled to fight back against, speaking in a tone meant to calm and making promises he thought false.
“If ya call keepin da Typhoon leader's son an 'ealer locked up important sure, but nah, don' tink dey missed me much,” upon dark lips a smile took hold yet compared to Thea's it was sharp – all teeth and no humour. He had been greeted by few, amongst them the one man he despised who thought better of looking upon his own grandchild kindly, deeming his place as a healer fit more for scorn. In truth he was surprised he lingered so long, allowed himself to wallow within the internal hatred, but then he might truly be the pathetic disappointment his grandfather spoke of.
Her voice is gentle and soft, a summer breeze, unlike those he had grown accustomed to. Most held a more gruff tone, were not beyond allowing their more colourful words to shine through, of which Silus himself was prone to, and held accents which altered the way of their speech, though none softened it. This was different for her own was clear yet gave a gentle edge to each word, warmed it though the tone was one more inclined to the negative. “Is okay, me own fault,” softening in turn he allowed his smile to close, given a more genuine touch as he turned to regard the canine. Spun silver spread across pearly ivory, he found himself caught up for a moment for he had no chance to properly see her before, a pretty sight yet one which drew his thoughts back to a few others. He found the want to speak of Jacob raising, uttering the words of his demise yet held it back. It was personal business only the members of the Roux family knew of, even the greater majority of the crew not given the chance to learn of it.
“An I know you,” there is no bite in the words, more a dejected, broken sorrow, something the child had felt in those first moments. If he might be deemed a traitor for his wants so be it but he had felt it all the same, burning in his stomach as he watched the wolf tear into the captured lion, so young yet still wanting to step in and help. He had not know the way of things then, a time before he had been deemed a Sage and thus had never needed to learn of the inner workings, though he cared not for them now a month on from becoming a healer, but had seen the pain inflicted and wanted it ended. Yet he had been unsuccessful in his search for Moon once all had been done, performed in secret in hopes he might offer some assistance, and now he looked upon the other with a shadowed eye, pushing aside the memories.
“Not really, but neitha ar ya,” as he allowed the words to rise he took a few seconds to mull over his next, wondering what to say. “Am sorry fer what 'appened but a kid can' do much, an he... dat fuck wasn' right.” Still was the knowledge of what Decius had done hidden, kept locked away by the few he had been able to take of their own crew, yet Silus held some idea of what he had done. It had been sometime since the wolf had simply disappeared and the influx of injury had slowed, all he had dealt with in recent weeks easily tied to sources close at hand, and so he put the blame for it all upon the wolf readily.
He opened his mouth to answer Moon's inquiry but then it seemed Bast thought it best to make his entrance, a snort arising instead of the intended answer. From what Silus had seen he was not by far a bad leader, in truth he saw similarities between Bast and his own father, both pushing to better thing for their people and thinking little of their own health, but then one was mortal while the other was a seemingly immortal demi-God. “Is Silus, not squirt, fucker,” though an edge was present it seemed teasing, given no real bite. He held no energy to argue the point, much wasted upon the journey getting here for his health was on a decline, it seemed fucking yourself over for others run in the family after all, his attention briefly touching on Moon once more. Strange was it that he was the only one to speak so roughly while even his leader seemed more open to things, but then it hadn't been Bast who had felt the claws of their crew.
Flipping open their satchel he began to pull out a few jars, the lids tapped so the contents wouldn't be able to get out. Within was a rather bright shade of orange, an almost viscus fluid more like gel then anything, three large ones pushed forward. “Elps wit burns, made em me self an yeah, been tested,” on his own patients no less when it had been in a developmental state and only recently upon the Rosebloods. Though it would do little for third degree it had proven to help sooth first and second, the mix numbing the skin and leaving it feeling cool to the touch, some of the ingredients able to keep infection away. “Isn' much I know but I wanta say I'm... sorry fer bein a brat I wasn' tinkin straight.”
Seemingly remembering himself once more he delved back into his bag, pulling out a small bundle. “Des as well,” as he spoke he threw them towards Bast, the bundle landing before him though not opening. A large swath of fabric tied in a knot within was a good number of mini muffins he had picked up at Luca's bakery before leaving, the hard travel, almost none stop as he wanted this over with, meaning they were still relatively fresh. "Don' tell Luca or 'e'll 'ave me hide, he wasn' too 'appy ta be eaten but den he kinda deserved it."