11-16-2018, 11:31 AM
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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.
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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.
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CAREFUL, SON — YOU GOT DREAMER'S PLANS