And if you're still bleeding . medeci patrol

[VASS .]

In the dusk of the sky, breath exhaled through the Medeci's breath like billowing smoke. Fresh herbs tied and knotted together, set to hang loosely above a closed window to help dry them out. It was a quiet practice as Vaas settled in finishing up in the medicine den; a place that he rarely found himself in. The one closer to camp was small, and had little growing room for anything but as a storage. His own den was bigger in comparison; even if it was once used as a camp for the tiger's own group. Now it was used for the sick and the resting.

The night was in full swing, when the tiger stepped out of the den. Pulling with him a cloak of white closer to himself. He started his patrol in the middle of camp, looking up at the sky and breathing in the quiet. Calm moments like these were something to be treasured, closely guarded and hoarded with jealously. He was lucky that there were so few injured truly in the raids.

Vaas' patrol went a little different each night: It depended truly on where her started, but his goal was always camp first. Prowling near the dens of others; making sure of their sleep- their well beings before he moved onward to the few that resided in the boardwalk, and then the few that went off to live somewhere within the territory and refused either camp. He dropped off herbs to the few that could use it. Rhinestone ould usually find a small satchel of sleeping herbs, medusa got a few stems of lavender and sage to help with the nightmares.

the end of the patrol ended at the cusps of the border, where cobbled stone scattered around flush soil frosted over. The garden was small and withering- most of the plants going through full winter, but even in winter he could collect the cobwebs that where spun.

In the silence, he set to work

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"take me into your heart , accept me as your savior nail me to the fucking cross and let me be reborn" — an antagonist with a silver tongue , a pirate with nothing to loose and everything to gain .  vaas montenegro ; he who lives to fight demons should be weary he himself does not become one ." it's not like i am fucking crazy — "

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