☼ STATIC SCREENS — JOINING

[guts]

LION-SPIRITED { .:*・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]info

//tld;r is ymir is basically just at the bell with an infected eye and other wounds. this Sucks and is all over the place but i wanted to go ahead and get her joining over with aa

The salty air hits her nose, tickling and burning as it fills her lungs. Tides rise and fall off in the distance, waves crashing onto one another on the shore before pulling away. Her teeth grind together at the mingling sound of seagulls. Just their calls were enough to remind her of the attack the Pitt had once set on Sunhaven. Well, a sorry excuse of an attack, anyways. Obviously they had just been fucking with them, but it was still irritating.

More so, she hates having to think about that right now. She hates having to think about her former group in general. At least it wasn't something out of her control, no, she had chosen to leave. Her bigotry was most to blame, bitter feelings towards the Ascendants cropping up again as it was announced that they would be merging together into one group. Things had changed, very much so, but she wasn't the type to forgive and forget--at least not so easily. The way they had treated them in the past was not something that would roll right off her back.

It had been difficult to leave, as much as she hated to admit it. She had grown fond of Sunhaven, including it's people--especially a certain someone--but after they had merged, it wasn't quite the same anymore. It wasn't Sunhaven anymore. It was a stupid reason, but it was a reason nonetheless.

After all that, she was out on her own. It wasn't unfamiliar, but it had also been a while since Ymir had been travelling, much less alone. She was blindly wandering and she hated it, feeling like she was a wanderer with no purpose or destination, but so far she had no idea what she should do--so she just continued. Until she found some unfriendly ferals.

She was eager for the action, but with limbs weary from endless walking and the viciousness these other canines had, she was forced to flee after a few bad wounds, namely the deep scratch over her left eye. She could hardly see, vision clouded with red, the coppery smell invading her senses. Even now she could vaguely smell it, not well-combined with the smell of the sea.

Her wounds throbbed. The female had no knowledge of herbs or medicine, but she did stick a few leaves over them with cobwebs, at least to stop the bleeding. Now, paw reaching out to ring the bell, the following sound echoing out into the territory, she hoped they could help. The Typhoon weren't bad people, especially Goldie. She wondered if they tyke was still around, taking on a role she was probably too young for. "character's speech."

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]His past brings about its own slaughterhouse of bad memories. The sickly tar that overfilled his parents' mouths, coughing and melting along the ground of his mama's house. Stillness, not a heartbeat...and most certainly not a single goodbye to young Elijah. It was God who took them away, God who kept them away, God who left him at the mercy of his most haunted mind. Despite part of his blood being angelic, he resented the Heavens. But he also resented the unholy realm of Hell. He knew they existed for both parts of his bloodline co-existed as angelic and demonic...but he hated the intangible, the untouchable plane of reality that befell all who dared to breathe. Sometimes, the lifting scent of The Typhoon brought him comfort. It allowed him to sleep because of all the pleasantries he grew up in, the sheltered moments where he used to collect seashells and watch the tides creep closer and closer to land. He remembers flying across the lighthouse, seeing the figures of pirates below him and their inaudible squabbles. And yet he also remembers the smell of fear and loss intertwined with the scent of the ocean, the metallic salty air. While he does not have memories of war and battle like Ymir, he has seen the unspeakable tragedies a child should never have faced. Not once had death and violence been considered by the fates for him to see. But not even the fates had the ability to truly weave his future. Nothing stayed linear.

He could agree with Ymir's discomforts of thinking about her former group. He has troubles when it comes to letting his mind wander to a time before he had to grow up. Sometimes he thinks he grew up too fast. It is bittersweet to think of a time he used to fly, a time he used to let wind embrace the tips of his toes. He used to have two beautiful feathered wings. They took him wherever he wanted, they let him adventure far and wide to make discoveries a child couldn't begin to imagine. He loved his fantasy. He loved the idea of being a knight, a warlock, a fighter. He wanted to fight the world, challenge it because as a child there was no such thing as consequences. Fears and worries didn't exist within the mind of someone so young, so fresh-blooded. And now he has one wing. One wing to remind him of its other half, the fact that it had once been a pair. One wing that was lonely and dragged uselessly across the ground, still functioned normally but was useless without the other. Elijah feels his own feathers rustle, the ragdoll pressing his teeth together as he closes his eyes. It is a simple trick to let himself clear his thoughts. Turn his eyes away from the light and disillusioned thoughts, let himself regrip and let the negativity dissolve. He is new. He is his own. His rats would keep him safe. He has The Typhoon.

It was like a magnetic pull that he was drawn back to the island of pirates. He felt happier here. He didn't have to worry about those bad individuals who preyed on anyone who appeared weak. With his own soft-beating heart, his frame was thin and puny. Elijah cannot protect himself in battle. While he had control over the winds, it was the battle of stamina that continued to breathe down his neck. It was the rats who kept him safe. They followed him and whisper rumours, telling him what path was best to take and what stranger not to talk to. Without them, he might have died at the age of four months. Now he was seven months old. Hardly much older, still a child, but hardened. Experiences are what make children grow and evolve.

Goldenluxury, now Captain, has welcomed him home with a smile. His rats, familiar with the landscape, continue to roam with purpose. The only one who was floating, moving where the currents took him, was Elijah. He let his rats dictate where he went, who he could speak to, what he thought of himself. They existed as his lifeline, keeping him safe because they were the guardian of each other. Elijah was the guardian of the rats and the rats were the guardians of Elijah. On the topic of his protectors, the creatures were nervous today. It hasn't been too long since a few had reported back the smell of injury - the sickly scent of blood. It is accompanied by the sonorous sound of bells. Metals clang conflicts and his ears twist towards the direction of the railroad gate, body moving before his eyes. She must be injured and he considers grasping some of the left over herbs from their under-reconstruction temple but Elijah chooses not to. His knowledge is limited to what he saw his mother do when Junji had been the head soothsayer. While he retained basic medical understandings in order to treat his rats of injuries, he is hesitant to waste anything on a stranger. Besides, he thinks, he doesn't know what exactly the injury is. His rats could only carry so much as a herd. How was he to know if the wounds were infected or not?

He moves hastily, thinking it to be more hospitable to arrive swiftly than make The Typhoon's guest wait any longer than she needed to. As he arrives, his eyes catch sight of the dire wolf and the spread of scratches along her body. It was hard not to miss the sight of her infected eye, the boy's expression not so much as wavering at the sight of it. His face was unreadable, stone cold when he assesses her during his approach. It is when Elijah reaches speaking distance, however, that he lights up into a warm smile. "I'm sorry you've gotten this badly hurt," the boy says, seeing no point in asking if she wanted to be treated. It was all too obvious. No one would come to The Typhoon badly injured if not to receive treatment. "I'm not a healer but I remember how to heal infections from my mother... otherwise I haven't seen any of our sages lately." Saying 'mother' must have been a little misleading. Junji had always went by male pronouns and was an androgyne if Elijah remembered correctly. Well, he never really cared much about genders. He simply knew that it was Junji who brought him.

Part of him begins to wonder where all the sages were, assuming that the Necro Mambas were too busy dealing with the devastation of their damaged temple and injured civilians. It would make sense that it was pirates over strangers. They had a limited herb supply that he was wary of simply taking them. Then again, no one needed to know. He happens to still own the medical kit that Peppino had once given out to everyone. Usually he treated his rats before infection could occur, always checking up to make sure each and every one of them were okay, so he still had enough for infections that had already manifested. "But of course, I'm just assuming you're looking for medical help so I apologise if I got ahead of myself, miss...uh?" he flicks an ear in the canine's direction, unsure what to call her and hoping that she got the verbal cue to introduce herself. The demiangel had never really thought himself as a demanding child. "My name is Elijah Rosario, by the way. You can call me Eli for short if it's easier to remember. Is there anything else you're looking for?"

[guts]

LION-SPIRITED { .:*・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]info

She hadn't expected to be greeted by a child, but she wasn't really surprised—kids ran around wherever it seemed. She would question the safety of not keeping a watchful eye on the young ones, but she wasn't exactly someone who would lose sleep over such a thing, and it was the last thing on her mind right now. It was hard to focus on anything through the throbbing pain, really. She's just thankful someone's shown up.

Ymir's good eye settles on Elijah, studying him for a moment, mouth a thin line. She listens as he goes on, finding his apology for her wounds odd but shaking it off nevertheless, only giving a half-hearted shrug. She didn't have the energy to talk much right now. She does hesitate, though, when she realizes that he's offering to try and treat her himself. She wasn't sure how old he was, or how much knowledge he had, but she had her doubts about letting a kid treat wounds, especially one that was probably infected and around such a vital area.

Finally, though, the canine huffs through her nose in defeat. This would be better than nothing. "Ymir." she replies to his asking her name. "Hopin' to stick around a while." she leans down, craning her neck to allow him better access to the spot across her eye. "character's speech."

[elijah]

[div style="margin: 0 auto; border-width:0; width: 70%; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; line-height: 1.5; font-size: 9pt;"]( sorry for my late replies i've been really busy and will probably stay busy for the rest of the year because of my over-committed to real life commitments ass )

He can understand her uncertainty towards having a child treat her eye, especially if that child admitted that he wasn't completely confident in treating the injury. But Elijah was sure he could do it, already sending mental notes to nearby rats and his rats around the island to start gathering the types of herbs he wanted. Goldenrod and chervil helped with curing infections, right? He couldn't remember any of the plants that eased the symptoms though, visibly scrunching his brows as he takes a closer look of her eye. "Ymir is a nice name," he mumbles, turning his head around to a group of rats who had brought a small bowl of water and some moss. "I remember mama used to always clean wounds first so if you don't mind..." he uses his air manipulation to lift the moss telekinetically, dipping it into the water and dabbing it around the dry blood and infection. As he works, he continues with the words she had spoken. "So you're thinking of joining? After we deal with your eye, I can show you around the island if you'd like. It might be a little hard to find a spare hut because of the recent eruption but worse case I can let you stay where I'm living for a bit...that is if you don't mind living with my rats."

Another group of rats appear with the herbs he telepathically asked for, a few of the bigger rodents pulling a mortar and pestle. He takes the herbs and puts them inside the mortar before pouring a bit of water over the herbs. He crushes them beneath the pestle, doing his best to ensure the result would have the same consistency as chewing a poultice together by adding more water or herbs bit by bit. Elijah never really liked the idea of chewing herbs. While he had once been interested in becoming part of the Necro Mambas as he had been a sickly child and was often by his mother's side, chewing poultices was a strange concept.

As Eliah finishes the poultice, he takes a clean bundle of moss to dip into the result and dress Ymir's infection. He then lifts the bandages, unravels them and wraps them about her eye. "Tell me if it's too loose... I didn't want to wrap it too tightly," the boy says, waiting for her comment before tightening the knot. It would be a waste of bandages if it was too loose but it looked fine to him. Then, finishing with her eye, he looks at her other scratches. By now the blood should have clotted and dried. Unless they re-opened, there shouldn't have been any chances of infection occurring. "All finished."

[guts]

LION-SPIRITED { .:*・°☆ } ——— [size=10pt]info

//no worries!! ^^

She watches the rats disperse with a quirked brow, both impressed and a little put off by the connection this kid had with these things. She had never seen anything like it, staring blatantly as they scamper back with all sorts of herbs in their mouths, all of them soon to be used on her. She wasn't sure how to feel about it, not knowing where those mouths or paws have been, but she doesn't voice any of that concern out loud. She was grateful for the help and didn't want to spit back in his face for his kindness; she was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.

"Thanks, kid. Your's isn't bad, either." she wasn't good at receiving or giving compliments, but at least she tried. As he readies the poultice, she appreciates the new technique, much preferring over having someone chew it then stick it in her open wounds. She wasn't a doctor herself, but she doubted much good would come out of putting spit-covered herbs on wounds like that. At least it hadn't seemed to fail all these people yet.

His offer of a tour is tempting, and while she still wasn't sure to make of Elijah, she would rather not get lost, either. The island didn't seem to be the forgiving type when it came to newcomers. At the mention of staying with him, she frowns in thought. Things sounded pretty rough. Living with a bunch of rats wasn't something she thought she would end up doing, but nevertheless she found herself nodding, finally agreeing with his offer.

"Hey, if they don't bother me, I won't bother them." she says as she allows him to do his thing, wincing when the wet mush of herbs touches her eye. She'd be damned if she lost this eye. Once he was done, she leans back, standing up to full height and finding everything to feel pretty weird with her new impaired sense of vision. "Thanks. I, uh, appreciate it. But how about that tour?" she flashes him a smirk. "character's speech."