WAS I EVER GOLDEN - open; injured

[rhosmari]

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[glow=#000,1,400]NOT CAUSE I'M BUSY, I JUST DON'T GIVE A FUCK — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

[div style="width: 480px; height: auto; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 9pt; line-height: 13px;"]"Tch,...that could have gone better. Should have gone better..." He was a guy that could deal with pain, he could handle anything that came his way. If he couldn't then he might as well shut up and die somewhere in a ditch. Fighting didn't make someone weak and he had dealt with a lot of punches and blows to both his ego because of his height and physically to his body that pain was virtually nothing to him. He could move on even when he was shot he could always bounce back quicker than most of the crew could which he guessed was a blessing and a curse. He didn't often like to sit down idly by and let his body do what was necessary to heal. He needed to be doing something and to help the crew in what they needed to get done. He'd always been like that ever since the organization and this was no different. He'd thought he had enough intel on that place to make a quick run. A quick hit to get some valuables and maybe steal some things that were valuable to other and hold them for ransom. An eye for an eye they could get their stuff back if they gave him what he wanted in return. But things had not went so well or at least not too well for the other that had encountered him at least. So he thought because he was having a hard time thinking that he was alright right now.

Much of the swamp mud had been washed off of him, the scent of Tanglewood killed and gone but his body was now matted with that of some type of thick bright orange substance. He couldn't figure out what it was and why it was leaking out of him and frankly he had the notion that whatever that woman did to him he was poisoned or something. Blood was not bright orange that was for sure and the mere fact that it was leaking out of him stood to reason that it was his blood but it was all wrong messed up. "I can't die from being poisoned. That'd be shitty." He grumbled to himself as he walked, feeling the pain of the bites and scratches on his left foreleg and the tearing of flesh on his neck pull and stretch as he walked yet it didn't bother him all that much. But he was worried all the same, a seething of panic driving home the point of his current reality. So if he died in his head in this coma that he so often though he was in did that mean he died for real? The idea was not one he wanted to dwell on as he trailed blood along the desert sands, eyes shifting as he found his way down into the pit and the jungle forest that he knew already like the back of his hand, ....paw, whatever.

Wings dragged against the ground as he paused, listening to his surroundings before he finally sat down. Huffing lightly he lifted up a paw to pressed against his torn throat, the flesh feeling ragged and raw though when he pulled it away all he saw was bright orange. It was trippy and a shudder ran through his body before he closed his dual colored eyes for a moment. Flicking his tongue out he shook his body before he pressed on, making his way to the waterfall where he went behind it and into that ruins that all of these creatures lived in. Though he had no real home he just took up residence in one of the empty ruins and sat down in the corner, grabbing a cloth to press against his neck wound first and foremost. That was all that mattered to him and he held it there as he looked to the door, staring at it as he muttered to himself. "I'm not dying, I'm not dying. I didn't die then and I'm not dying now."

[| THE VAGABOND |]

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Questions no one can answer -

Vagabond learned something new every single day. He learned more of what he was capable of doing and didn't really question why he was capable of doing such things in the first place. The Hellhound just used the abilities to his advantage and tried to perfect he skills that would develop from them. Just because he came from being a human didn't mean that he knew exactly how to use the powers that he had right now. he had a long way to go before he was even remotely considered to be like that of an expert anyway. There was nothing wrong with starting back at the bottom of a skill level and working all the way back up. It meant that if he really wanted to, he could change his fighting style. He could be more of a close combat fighter instead of a long ranged fighter like he usually was. He did enjoy a little bit of contact when it came to the fights that he dealt with. There was plenty about this world that Vagabond still had no idea about. At this point, Goldenboy was even more knowledgeable than he was with the groups that surrounded the current area that they were in. Vagabond didn't bother to know the residents that he would be living around, as long as they didn't try to bother him they wouldn't have any problems that could stem from it all. If they wanted to try and hunt him down, he would be more than willing to at least see them try here and there, but he doubted that they would be able to do much to the crew in general. Now that they were reuniting with one another, it was going to get harder and harder to try and take each other out individually. Considering that they treated each other like family, most of the time, they would be more than willing to risk their lives to save someone from getting themselves killed. Vagabond wasn't any different as this was his family, despite how dysfunctional it was, they were still good. That didn't mean that they were good men though. Another aspect of the world that Vagabond had no knowledge of, was medical supplies.

As a human, he could easily just hire a doctor that would keep their mouth shut to patch up the wounds that were littering his body. Taking bullets out from his wounds and then sutchering them closed at the end of the day and there were plenty of times where he was just covered in bandages nearly head to toe. There were different chemicals and antibiotics that could be used when they were worse for wear and several other operations at the same time if things got bad. They literally had everything at their disposal, but in the wild, it didn't seem like they had the likes of a doctor anywhere nearby. The Hellhound had a couple wounds himself, and he tried to keep them clean as much as possible, and they were closing nicely. He was lucky that they hadn't gotten infected either. Nothing medical was done to the wound that had been created on his arm, and he constantly checked it, as it felt like he was living in the stone age when it came to the aspect of medicine. Vagabond thought that if he did get an infected wound, that would be a quick one way trip for him to die again. That's the last thing he wanted to have to deal with, with such a busy schedule that he had anyway. Vagabond was returning from staking out an area that he had already been to. He had tortured a wolf a little bit in the area and the environment was similar to the Rosebloods itself. They had a desert as well, and he never realized how much that he was going to hate the sand. It stuck to literally everything. He wasn't covered in blood for once as he traveled back, one of his rounded ears flicking as he listened to his surroundings. His head was lowered slightly in a predatory manner, but also the fact that he was really fucking tired, and that there was something else that was bothering him. His neck hurt like a bitch. He wasn't sure why it hurt so much because there was nothing wrong with his neck either. He also had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that felt like he was starting to panic. Why? Everything was fine.

There was nothing happening to him right now that would constitute him panicking over nothing. A low growl of frustration escaped the massive beast as his tails lashed wildly behind him thanks to the conflicting emotions that were spreading through his head. Vagabond managed to walk through the canyon, before walking behind the waterfall. He never really cared for the ruins that much. The closer he got to the location though, the stronger the feelings became. Making his way to the entrance of the ruins, he looked down to see an odd color on the ground. It was.... an orange splatter. At first Vagabond thought it was spray paint, as there was only one creature he could think that messed around with others. Even as a human he never quite understood the color choice that Rimmy decided to choose. After a while, he just stopped questioning it and went with whatever was happening. Vagabond didn't have a place to stay in the Roseblood's compared to Rimmy, choosing to just stay somewhere in the canyon when he slept. Well, he didn't sleep actually. He hadn't had any sleep in the past days since he had arrived in this place. The former human knew that Rimmy had a place, and he wanted to check up on the canine thanks to the other's alcohol addiction starting to get out of control. As he rounded the corner and knocked on the door before letting himself in, he noticed that the orange spray paint started to increase in intensity.

The fuck? As soon as his vivid blue eyes landed on Rimmy, confusion was obvious in the way that he was looking at him. The guy was basically covered in orange paint. At least, it looked like orange paint to him as he couldn't smell anything through the mask that he was wearing. However, there were a couple of places that seemed like they were actually cuts. There was no way that could be blood. Blood wasn't ORANGE. The 6ft tall hellhound making his way over, Rimmy's panic fueling the anxiety that was bubbling in the beast chest. "The hell happened to you? Is that blood?" Vagabond questioned the other, not entirely sure what was happening to him. Considering that he was putting pressure to at least something meant that it was serious. Vagabond seemed to crane his neck slightly to the left, as the pain in his neck began to steadily increase. Vagabond's paw raised slightly as if he was about to help Rimmy, but in the end, he had no idea how to help him. He didn't exactly have bandages he could use. Instead, he turned around sticking his head out of the door. "Hey! If there's anything like a doctor that exists here, get your fucking ass over here!" The former human basically snarled the command, not knowing if there was anyone like that since they were all animals. But there had to be something. Vagabond's entire body was tense, and he was in pain a lot for no reason. It fucking hurt.

[member=1130]rosemary roux[/member] 

[sub][W]isker[/sub]

[ROSEMARY]

[align=center]SHE LOST HER VOICE DOWN BY THE RIVER, SCREAMING FOR COURAGE

[ aye i’m gonna assume that the wound isn’t close to any of the major veins/arteries but is deep enough to require stitches  – lemme know if this assumption is false lol ]

Rosemary, ever used to people refusing to come to her for medical aid, spent too much of her time dealing with festered wounds. When her clairvoyance hinted at someone needing medical attention, she usually took it to heart; otherwise, she knew the rogue might only come to her when their afflicted limb stank of gangrene and necrotized. She sensed some issue now, and came with her leather satchel filled with her tins of herbs and other assorted medical necessities.

Drawn to Vagabond’s call to the precise area, the ocelot’s ears twitched as she took in the sight of orange blood oozing from the painted dog’s neck wound. Well, good thing she arrived soon, hm? Glancing at Vagabond, she numbly stated, “That doctor would be me.” The guy seemed off his rocker, from what she saw of him; she didn’t want to chance him getting pissed off when she approached his buddy to heal his ass.

Walking towards Rimmy, recognizing him as that winged idiot from his joining, the wildcat tilted her head as she sat down and started rummaging around in her satchel. “I’m going to temporarily stop the bleeding, then I’m going to stitch you up. But I need you to trust me and remove the cloth, alright?” she explained, as usual explaining her plan before executing. She found patients tended to cooperate more when she minimized the surprises. Still, either way, she raised her paw to his face and attempted to force the oozing blood to clot with her water elemental abilities. She knew that was only a temporary fix, but she’d prefer to keep blood from dripping all over her while she stitched him up.

It always made it painfully hard to concentrate when sticky blood seeped into her skin.

[arcy]

[glow=#000,1,400]UNDERNEATH THIS BLACK, BLACK SKY — ｡+ﾟ.[/glow]

Eddie had no idea what Rimmy and his friends got up to when they weren't around the Rosebloods, nor did he care. Eddie wasn't their keeper, and if they wanted to fuck themselves up, that was their problem. .. Well. Eddie cared a little. And, seeing the wilddog injured like this .. Eddie winces. He doesn't know why the blood is orange, but it isn't Eddie's problem, either.
".. I can transfer wounds, if it gets that bad," Eddie says, somewhat blankly. The neck wound .. Well. Rimmy had lost a lot of blood, unlike Eddie, who was perfectly healthy. NO, his bodymate responds in his head, near screaming, and Eddie scarcely manages to resists a full-body flinch. Mentally talking sucked. Eddie almost sighs, and gently shoves Venom. He couldn't do it without his Other's compliance -- it was their ability, not Eddie's. It's not like he would die, assuming Rosemary did her job. Which, well, she seemed to be able to.

[KLIMENT]

✧

Walking over, the hybridzation watched calmly only to snort a bit at Eddie's offer though his attention was locked onto the wounded clanmate. His tail lashed to the sides for a moment only to state with a faint growl "WE BELIEVE IT WOULD BE BETTER IF SOMEONE LARGER OFFERED TO TAKE THE WOUNDS," Especially since severe wounds could turn out bad for such a rodent of Eddie's stature though Kliment would resume to watching and if they did want to transfer injuries then the hellhound wouldn't be bothered all that much if he were the one to take them off the other. He would sit down curling his tail around his talons, he continued to watch with a soft breath escaping his slightly parted jaws.

"I'M A BAD LIAR" —-- KLIMENT / ROSEBLOODS / MISC.