THE FUTURE IS NO MORE ☆ devland

[roan ;]

Aren't you a bit young to be the healer? The question was a loaded one for Roan, who resisted the strong urge to recoil when it was asked of him. On one hand, he felt slightly insulted, since he knew that despite his young age, he was still an extremely talented medic. On the other hand, he agreed with Devland on some level. The responsibilities of the only healer within the Typhoon had been heaped on his shoulders far too early, and he still sometimes wished that Ahab was around to help shoulder the burden. Not too keen on showing weakness to anyone, let alone a newcomer to the group, Roan just let out a scoff, shaking his head firmly from side to side, "I'll have you know that I'm a very good healer, no matter what my age is. And seeing as no one else is exactly leaping at the opportunity to treat the entire group, the responsibility has fallen on me." He tried not to sound too hostile in his response, despite the fact that he so desperately wanted to be. After all, he couldn't make any new friends if he went around telling the new guys to fuck off when they had the audacity to question his young age. It wasn't as if he wasn't confident in himself, after all. He just had a tendency to get overwhelmed, when all the cards were down and he had to scramble to hold everything together.

Gritting his teeth briefly, the siamese shook those unpleasant thoughts away, his blue gaze refocusing on the other male's shoulder. The sight of it caused a grimace to come to his face, the telltale signs of an infection making his skin crawl beneath his fur. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as the infections that had plagued Ament's wounds, but it still wasn't good. Letting out a soft grunt of frustration when the other angled away from him, he spoke bluntly, "It's not good, I can tell you that. It's definitely infected, and if we leave it this way, it could get much worse. Hell, you could lose the arm." Maybe he was exaggerating a little for dramatic effect, but hopefully it would motivate Devland to stop hiding the infected wound away. Moving forward, Roan placed a paw gently against Dev's jaw, trying to push it upwards and away so that he could inspect the wound more closely. As he did so, he muttered in Devland's ear, his command short, "This'll hurt, so stay still." He didn't exactly give the other a chance to respond, digging his claws into the wound in order to open up any infected scar tissue that had begun to form. He then grabbed one of his wetted down clean rags, scrubbing softly against the wound to clean it out, and get rid of any blood.

The draconic feline was not a big fan of stalling, and that couldn't have been any more clear as he cleaned out the wound, his ears vaguely perked to listen to Devland's rambling as he worked. When he believed that the injury was sufficiently clean, Roan turned to head back to his bag, grabbing a couple of herbs that he began to mix into a poultice roughly, with his paws. As he did so, he spoke in a calm, although tired sounding, voice, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Devland. Although I wish it could be under better circumstances." He then turned back to face the other male, shaking his head, "And I don't really have any nicknames. Roan is short enough that it doesn't exactly necessitate the need for them... my mama calls me her beloved son, though." It felt weird, sharing personal information about himself so soon, but it was also mostly a tactic to get Dev to calm down before he applied the poultice.

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