bring me down . healing

[roan ;]

Treating Ament had been... interesting. Unlike most, Roan held little fear when dealing with the beast, mainly because he knew that he had the upper hand when it came to the current situation. Sure, the raptor could lunge at him with pure and fiery rage, intent on ripping him limb from limb, but all the siamese had to do was reach up, and dig sharp claws into infected flesh. As a medic, Roan was not exceedingly well trained in the art of fighting – although not useless, as most seemed to assume – but he knew all the vulnerable parts of the body. He knew how powerless Ament really was, with his wounds bleeding and festering without the sage around to treat him. This was why there was no fear reflected in the young feline's bright blue eyes as he often went to visit Ament, sometimes with Lucifer, and sometimes not. He had a job to do, and he had little patience for a patient that saw fit to thrash about and cause trouble, rather than just allow himself to be healed. Thankfully, it seemed as though Ament had calmed slightly over time. Or, alternatively, he had just accepted the situation as it was, resigned to his fate for the time being. It could've been either, although Roan would never truly know, considering he couldn't speak the strange language that Ament and his flock knew so well.

It was a day like any other as the draconic feline made his way into the temple, a mere speck of a shadow against the background of the structure. Within his jaws he clenched a rather large, wetted down cloth. He had taken notice of the places on Ament's body still stained in rusty blood, able to smell them even as he tried to drown the scent out with herbs. He had little idea of whether or not Ament would actually allow him to clean the blood off, even in his current quiet state, but Roan had to try, at the very least. Raising his wings up as he moved inside, the sage announced his presence with a rough clearing of his throat, moving to a few paces before Ament, and the bedding the raptor laid in. Dropping the damp cloth before him, Roan allowed his eyes to roam over Ament, taking in the other's various injuries, his mouth cracked open for any further signs of rot, or infection. When he came up blank, he allowed himself to sit, cocking his head to one side before questioning, "...Will you let me wash the blood off of you? It'll be more comfortable for you to lay without it caked on you, and the smell is... unpleasant." Roan wasn't sure of how much Ament could truly understand of his words, but he felt the need to at least try and ask. Despite the barrier of supposed intelligence and language, Ament was still a patient, and Roan intended to treat him as such.

[glow=#D15540,1,000]" stay by my side, high or low tide " ♡[/glow]