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~~trojan g.~~ · 09-14-2019, 03:25 PM

[align=center][div style="bgcolor= black; width: 500px; font-family: georgia;font-size:12px;text-align:justify"][[ feel free to powerplay the healing on Roman [member=2344]suvi k.[/member] ]]

If she had been asked that morning how her day would have gone, Moth would have said something along the lines of 'it should go good!' for that's how normal days worked. They were good. Not bad, not horrible, not amazing, just, well, good. And she had planned a normal day ahead of her. It had taken Moth a while to be able to figure out that she was safe here in Tanglewood, and was safe and able to go about her day collecting whatever it was that she wanted or needed without worrying about much. Of course, there was always the crocodiles and such around the territory that would harm her if she got too close, but she usually didn't go around in that area of the territory, and when she did, she was careful to watch out for things moving in the swamp water.

But as she was in the forest of the territory on this day, she didn't think that she'd need to be careful and watch out for things, sure that there wouldn't be any trouble - there was never any trouble on the borders anymore. Those that got captured where usually somewhere else than were she was now, the last two times someone had gotten captured had been Beck and Red, and they had been captured because they went to the Pitt. So nothing could go wrong, not on this day.

Oh how Moth wished she had been right instead of horribly, horribly wrong.

She had been collecting things, wondering around the territory, edging closer and closer to the border, when she had found some herbs she didn't really know anything about. She was curious about the things, so she had decided to be careful with it and carefully dig it up, making sure to keep the roots intact, when suddenly she was knocked over, a noise escaping her throat and then a growl coming from the attacker, the stench of the Pitt washing over her and making her gag. Soon enough things were over, and she had been knocked out.

What she wasn't expecting, however, was suddenly waking up in the town, a sharp pain in her jaw and the sting of medicine covering her paw and part of her face. Head would snap up quickly and Moth would begin to move quickly, pain engulfing her left arm before she just lie there, confusion clearly written on her face. "Wh-where is he?" The leopard would speak quietly, a soft sob leaving her maw, "Wh-why are they here? Is there more?"

selby roux ! · (This post was last modified: 09-14-2019, 04:57 PM by selby roux !.)

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby glanced at Kiira as she approached, not thinking much of her appearance. "Do you think you could—" he began, only to be cut off as she began to speak. He could hardly believe her words. Her own groupmates were injured before her and she wanted to debate the morals of the situation? What a crock of shit.

"Do whatever you want," he snapped at her harshly, gigantic ears flattening in his burst of anger. "I should think that your own groupmates might have taken priority over a philosophical debate or a Pittian, but go ahead. If you need supplies, my bag’s right here. Be my fucking guest." He didn’t have much experience with his fellow medic, but if this is how she chose to be, then he might be inclined to keep it that way. Maybe his words had been harsh or uncalled for, but with all the Pitt had done to them lately, Selby couldn’t find it within himself to bring up a module of empathy for them. Sam, Beck, Pastel, Moth, and even Kiira herself. He struggled to find a reason for her sympathy for them. Moth began to stir under his paws, and his attention turned to her.

The medic listened to her questions and prepared his answers for them, trying to make them as concise and non threatening as possible. "He’s over there," he said, gesturing over to where the Pittian lay. "No one else is hurt, and it’s gonna stay that way. Stay still for me please, you dislocated your arm and I have to reset it."

torren · 09-14-2019, 05:56 PM

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O e n o m e l . n.
He steps into a place of blood and anger. Wariness envelopes the prince the second the salty tang in the air hit him. Concern for everyone before him flashes in his eyes, mind racing to keep up with the events unfolding. Torren feels discombobulated on the matter, searching for a quick answer to his own emotional response to the issue -- an injured clanmate, an injured enemy. Yet in no world did he ever consider death a viable punishment save for the most vile of acts; death is what he believes half of Tanglewood wishes upon their enemy, the ones he heard called the Pitt.

The wildcat watches Kamara and Kiira intently, regarding the both with some measure of awe and respect. Kiira was imprisoned by this group yet she wants to help...? The Pittian bore immense injuries though and Torren began considering the idea he may not have asked for the life he lived in. It was certainly not an excuse for going after Moth, yet he hardly deserved nearly dying.

Something the fox said pierced him, catching him off-guard. 'Only resulted to violence after...' He hadn't heard any details of her imprisonment but he suddenly wondered if someone hurt her because of something Tanglewood did. And she feels betrayed because of it. He wondered if she told anyone the details; she seemed such a quiet and lonely soul at times.

Torren breathes out softly, ears perking as Moth came to, rightfully shaken up. He offered her a small, reassuring smile before padding towards Kiira's side. Her legs are shaking. "Would you let me help you?" Moth had the other medic's attention, correctly so, and he'd already requested Delilah's assistance. They had enough healers to take care of all of the injured, he thinks, glancing at Selby with flattened ears.

"I'm afraid I only know the basics of first aid, but I'm here. I want to be an extra set of paws." An unpopular choice indeed, but no one has to die. When someone suffered immense injury and blood loss, every second counted, he knew that much. Besides, helping an enemy may result in some benefit later -- strategically. Only, the young royal suspected few thought of that in the matter, since emotions seemed at high and medical action the most important first step for the time.

spacexual · 09-14-2019, 06:19 PM

i heard you were looking like the moon — tags

There is a constant cycle. A circle of life. A cycle of war. It always repeats itself. It is far too complex for his young, undeveloped mind to ever explain. But, he knows. He always ends up where he begins.

In most situations, he would avoid lots of noise. Lots of noise usually meant something bad. Something horrible.

But, there was so much of it, and it included voices he recognized. One in particular, his newly found father.

His flames are gone. Whether they will ever come back or not, he does not know, but he's been trying not to risk it. No sleep, only clean meals, pushing away bad thoughts. Happy faces. Happy conversations. He wishes to see the world as long and as much as he can. He owes his friend that much. This was not the very first time he's stepped foot into the town, but it is still one of the very first. And, it's certainly the first time he's presented himself outwardly, where a crowd may see him, where he may see them, too. The boy was so tired of being consumed by the fire. He couldn't risk it. But, today, it seems something was different. It seems it's something he must pay mind to, even if he will not be directly involved. Even if he will end up useless in the end.

He is not foreign to this sense of destruction - it is the very thing that inspired his creation.

Still, the tiger is unable to contain his shock as he sees the rage from his father, the blood, and the aggression of it all. The views of a war he has no place in. A war he is directly involved in, still, even if he does not know its origins nor its meaning. Because this is what he was made for.

He'd been made with no other intent than to be a weapon. Than to follow orders. Than to finish a war that had gone on far too long and was too hopeless to win. He'd never had any rights. He'd never gotten what he wanted. And, that would be true even now. The experiment would never be free. Not truly. He is too tied to the chains that conceived his very being. They are a part of him and he is a part of them - they could never part ways, no matter how much he begged, and cried, and yearned. He could not get his desires, because he is nothing more than a tool. Not even a boy. A weapon. A weapon that wishes to deny its purpose. Useless. Defective.

And now, the sights, the voices, the arguments are all ones he's heard before. He's been a part of them all before. His friend had been a part of them all before. There was a never-ending a war in his life. An infinite violence.

He can't stand it.

The boy is exhausted.

And now, he can feel it. He can feel the heat, the sparks. He cannot do anything but run now. Run far away. To where, he does not know. It doesn't matter anymore. He knows now that he will never escape it.

It repeats.

~~DELILAH.~~ · 09-14-2019, 07:00 PM

Delilah Evergarden
tanglewood | 32 m/o | femme | dark faerie

Too much time spent watching those around her through sightless eyes, too much time spent worrying over the past. What mattered was the present, and the question offered to her by the younger medic. Someone like her, could she help him even if she wasn’t who she used to be? It was a shame the faerie had to ask herself that. A real pity, indeed.

However, the woman merely nodded her head, eyes of magenta blindly gazing over the sight of a dislocated appendage, bracing the young child with skilled paws. Her paws slid over fur, before the feeling of a dislocation made her nod her head. ”Ready when you are, Selby.” She meowed, ever so softly, as if the very mention of this was a typical. You’ve dealt with this before. Long, long ago. When your vision wasn’t so blurred. Delilah’s breaths were steady, the smell of blood blocked by her focus. ”Whatever you need me to get, I will.”

Now wasn’t the time for moral debates.

tags:

wormwood. · 09-14-2019, 07:21 PM

Voices. Voices, so many. Voices, so many everywhere, with way too many faces for Worm's bloodlust addled mind to handle. First there was Delilah, seeming to understand his words and turning to go and grab Selby, who thankfully arrived on the scene after just a moment. The male wasn't lecturing him, instead choosing to focus on the clanmate in front of him that was injured. If he was more lucid at the moment, Worm probably would've outwardly expressed his thanks to Selby, but for now he just stepped back so that the medic had plenty of space to work. It wasn't long before the throng of voices was being thrown at him again, and the hellhound's ears pinned back as he heard the judgemental voice of Kamara, seeming to almost beg him to be the better man that he had been when she had met him, driven by the kind first impression he had given. The next to speak was Kiira, somebody that he didn't know well, but whom he still cared about fair amount. When she started to speak, however, a low growl came up through his chest, echoing through the air in front of him as his teeth bared. She was speaking up about the Pittians as if they were equal to Tanglewood. It was ridiculousness. Sure, one day in the past Wormwood might've agreed with her, and tried to look at it from their side of things, but he had been hurt and scorned far too many times to believe that The Pitt actually had any good souls in it. He had thought Draekon was one of them, but clearly he had been wrong there.

The low growl continued through Worm's chest for a moment before he roughly shoved Roman's limp body forward, toward Kiira. He said gruffly, unaware of the fact that Moth was now awake, as her desperate words fell on dead grateful ears, "He attacked Moth. I have no interest in debating whether or not his life is worth anything, because he hurt one of our clanmates. She could've died if he had gotten off with her in his jaws. But if you really want to heal that, have fucking fun. Don't come running to me when the moment he's conscious, he tries to attack you too. But just know that I agree with Selby on this one. I would've thought you of all people, would understand that the Pitt isn't worth saving." His tail lashed from side to side behind him, and he offered Selby a bit of a nod. That was all he was going to say on the matter, especially considering that blood was still pumping insanely fast through him, drool still dripping from his jaws. Kamara, Kiira, and Moth all cut into him with an edge, showing him how wrong his actions had been, but he for the most part just ignored them, still feeling he was in the right. If the damn Pitt was going to attack members of Tanglewood, they deserved it when they suffered back in return.

The arrival of Roy, however, was what finally made Worm's view snap back into place. He hadn't seen his son approach the town ever before, usually preferring to stay hidden away from sight so that he didn't risk hurting anybody else – something that Wormwood found admirable, even if it showed what a hypocrite he was now. His jaws opened when Roy approached, a desperation softening his eyes as he tried to open his mouth to explain, but it seemed as though Roy was already hurt, the boy's eyes darkening when he saw the state that his father was in. The hellhound could only imagine what a spectacle he must've been, with both drool and blood dripping from between his fangs, blood splattering the front of his chest, and a glazed and wild look in his eyes, that was now settling with the arrival of so many others, and the fact that he couldn't indulge himself in killing and devouring the Mexican wolf. Roy had already turned and quickly walked off by the time that Wormwood stepped forward, and the older male felt pain fill him as soon as his child was gone, replaced by nothing but a cold spot in the air that gripped Worm's heart too tightly. He looked around at the rest of the group there, his eyes snapping from face to face around him, and eventually he decided that it was all too much. He couldn't even hope to return to complete normalcy when there were faces all around him, having moral arguments and struggling to make sure that everyone was okay. A soft distressed whimper left him as he stepped back, before he snapped lowly, "Selby... please make sure that Moth ends up okay. Please... thank you. Crow... Crow will know what to do with the Pittian. Or Leroy, or... I... I-I have to go."

The hellhound gritted his fangs and quickly turned around, his clawed paws frantically taking him off back into the swamp and forestland, disappearing between the heavily clumped trees as his chest rose and fell in a panic. Everything was still so hazy, and he could barely remember what he had done before suddenly everything had snapped into place, and everyone was yelling at each other or looking disapprovingly at him for just doing his job to protect the group. Letting out a heavy breath, he grew further and further away from the others and into the wilds surrounding them, his barbed thoughts the only things cutting through the clouds that hung over his head. Fuck Kamara, fuck Kiira. He had done the right thing. He hadn't just let Moth get taken off like so many others had been recently.

( wormwood is out !! )

[glow=black,2,300]YOUR CHANNEL IS UNREACHABLE[/glow]

RED · 09-14-2019, 08:08 PM

[align=center][div style="text-align:justify;width:55%;font-family:verdana;"]Once upon a time Red had known a man that carried something vicious, something restless in his heart. Though just as he shouldered a burden, he carried himself as a leader, as a defender too. But he knew what lurked under the surface, and kept the world at arm's length, too fearful of the beast inside him to let anyone in too close. One night he slaughtered two humans and left the rest scattering for cover, skin flayed by razor-sharp claws and faces wrought with horror. They'd never seen it coming. Nobody had known but him.

Red sees the blood, the limp bodies, and thinks distantly of an old friend. He sees the fresh blood staining Wormwood's chest and thinks of bodies in a field, chests caved in, the last flickers of life fading fast from their eyes. He sees a monster in Wormwood and does his best not to fear it. "Jesus." He's not as quick to arrive as the others, working at a steady limp with only half the lung capacity he used to have. But when he does, he moves in briskly in spite of the pain, watching Wormwood drop Moth's broken body to the ground and another figure beside her. Selby's already taken control, and Worm can only watch like the rest of them. They're children waiting for the father to get home; wherever Crow is, they need him here now. Red wants to do something in the meantime, to help, or at least try to reconcile the chaos, but the most he can muster is a pensive wheeze of a sigh that whistles out from his near-broken nose. It's all he can do, really; what's done is done.

He takes a few steps forward, the rank scent of the Pitt leaving him uneasy as he stares down at a stranger's flayed body. A sharp pain hits him as he forces another intake of breath, and Red clutches the bandages wrapped just below the center of his chest. He leans a little, resting a hand on Wormwood's shoulder; just as they stood when Red returned, one body seeking the support of another. How unfortunate it was that when Wormwood needed someone to lean on, only a broken body remained to bear the load.

The bickering, the tension, it's a recipe for disaster - if all he could do was keep Wormwood grounded in this vicious state, so be it. It comes as instinct when he gives his shoulder a small squeeze. "...I'm not up for fighting over whether or not the Pitt deserves a break. But, screw you too."

He almost calls out to Roy when he sees him, only because the boy looks hurt, frightened in a way that said he knew this would happen all along. This isn't his father at Red's side, but something else, blood-matted and feral, a creature that could kill in a way that Wormwood never would, never could. What trust he'd put in Wormwood was surely gone now. Heat fills the air, sparks crackling among the cacophony of shouting voices, and Red realizes it's too late to try and make amends. He doubts he could convince Roy that the man before him was the same who went looking for him, offered a home to him - he doesn't expect Roy to understand. The boy runs, and Red doesn't try to stop him.

It's Worm, though, that worries him. The aura hanging over his body is a fragment of its former self, carrying an intensity and anger that he'd never associated with the Chaser before. "It's alright... Moth's alright. We're gonna figure this ou-" A metallic taste lingers on the back of his tongue as he forces the words out through the sharp pangs that claw at his chest. The Chaser doesn't seem to hear him, though, already giving chase after Roy and disappearing into the brush before the last syllable leaves his lips. Red sputters through a rough cough as he charges forward a few steps, unable to give chase. "Wormwood - Worm!"

selby roux ! · 09-14-2019, 08:48 PM

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby nods at Delilah as she puts herself into position, and he seizes Moth’s arm, grasping it firmly. Any other stimulus was gone in his mind as he looked down at his patient, preparing to brief her on what would happen next. "Alright. I’m ready. Moth, I’m going to put your arm back into position now. It’s going to hurt really bad for just one second, and then it’s going to feel a lot better. On the count of three. One... two..." And then, without warning, he shoved the limb back into its rightful place. "Three," he said, moving up to examine his work, making sure he had done it correctly. "Alright. It’s done. You did a great job, Moth. You’ll need to stay off your feet for at least a couple of weeks, and then after that you shouldn’t do any strenuous activity for a couple of months. If all goes well, you should be good as new after that.

He turned to address Wormwood next, but then the beast was leaning down to him and telling him to take care of Moth. "Hang on, I still need to—" the sawbone began, but his fellow tangler was already leaving. Roy’s brief appearance hadn’t even registered in his mind as he worked on Moth. Red’s call caught his attention, and Selby’s eyes came to focus on the ape. His frustration melted away, replaced with concern. "Ah, geez. You shouldn’t be up, Red," he started, dashing over to him. "I asked you to stay off that ankle for a reason... Does it hurt too much? Did you tweak it?"

~~beck.~~ · 09-14-2019, 10:00 PM

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[sup]got powerplay permission from tikki![/sup]

At first, he followed Selby with innocent intentions in mind. Isolated bedrest -- with only visits from medics that knocked on his door not out of the willingness to keep him company, but rather out of their medical responsibility -- admittedly became boring after one or two days of watching the same movies at least twice in a row. So in preparation for the sawbone's visit that day, Beck devised a plan to trail after his newfound friend when he concluded his afternoon visit with him. His paw steps were silent as he slipped down the rotting stairs attached to the side of his houseboat's porch, stalking after the tabby while suppressing a giggle. Maybe he could surprise him with a little jumpscare... although given Selby's newest stress wrinkles, leaping in front of him might induce cardiac arrest. Then he would lose yet another friend. Beck shook his head, pausing his limping stride to brainstorm a better idea.

A shout broke the forest's quiet and ferns rustled a distance ahead, snapping the injured poltergeist from his concentration. Tentatively rising to his feet, he stumbled to where Selby had undoubtedly last been before darting off with someone else. A pang of jealousy gripped the cavity a heart used to safely reside in, encased by a now-shredded membrane. His crooked smile twisting into a pout, Beck flared his nose and pressed onward with his pace slowed to prevent his stitches from tearing like last time. The sound of contentious voices crescendoed; he flattened his ears in response, but the strengthening stench of those accountable for the cruelty leaving his entrails exposed and eye gouged was enough to freeze him in his tracks. Oh God no, not Selby. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if the young sawbone experienced the torture he did. Wait... he wouldn't be able to live with himself metaphorically. Hunching bony shoulders, the mangy feline quickened his gait -- even if recovering from being absolutely torn apart at the seams, he thought he could still damage a potential attacker enough to allow Selby an escape. Even a simple diversion would be better than nothing. After all, he wasn't exactly at risk of death like the airsuckers he called friends.

The sight greeting him when he peered from the foliage did little to relieve his worries. Someone had been attacked after all. Narrowing his remaining eye, Beck turned his attention to the filth responsible for the pained cries of Moth and copper tint to the air. His mind locked onto the new target, a sneer contorting bandaged features as the boy's apparition disappeared. No one ever noticed him on the best of days, but he wouldn't want the wolf to see his killer approaching so soon. With a cold presence the only detail to signal his arrival at the scene, the poltergeist slipped through the crowd, reaching the Pittian without interference. The wolf had been rendered unconscious. Lame; he wanted to witness the life leave his eyes. The entity cast aside the veil of invisibility once learning this and coiled paws around the canine's neck, tightening around his windpipe and arteries like a garrote -- but usually, strangulation only took a few seconds on television. The attacker's chest still inflated with air. Scowling, Beck shifted his hold to grasp the wolf just behind his jawbone before swiftly jerking his head to the side at an awkward angle. Like ripping off a band-aid, but with more resistance and sickening crunches of vertebrae. He released the fresh corpse's head, letting it flop backward in a fashion that reminded him of a PEZ dispenser. The feline pushed himself away from the wolf, expression empty as he stared at his handiwork. One less enemy for them to kill later. And if the meat weren't from the Pitt and undoubtedly rotten, he might have brought Audrey home its dinner.

suvi. · 09-14-2019, 10:39 PM

[align=center] [Image: Uo6QexN.png?1]

— s͢uv̷i͡ ̷k̛iir͜a ó f͞a҉olá҉in | t̢àn̢glewo̧o̷̢d̷͢, t̶h̨e̵ ҉ty͝p̵ho͞on͞ | medic —

She'd been right. There. Unpopular decision. Whatever. She didn't know why her heart deflated. But anger quickly replaced the disappointment. She bottled it, head flashing up towards Torren at the sound of his voice. Ever the calm and formal. Honestly, he threw her off, enough so she never saw Beck coming. Then again, he was like her in many ways. Of course, she didn't see him coming. Invisibility. Intangibility. The fact he ought to be resting.

Even when he reappeared. But she's close to the unconscious Pittian when it happens, enough to scramble back in shock and surprise when her former team-mate arrived on scene with only violent intent. Her tongue touches the roof of her mouth but she fumbles on any sort of noise. Unable to fully register what was happening, only that it was.

No, no, no. Ņo̴͏b̀͟o͘͘d̷̨y ͝h̶҉͝a̵͟ś̸͘ ̡t̸o di͜͠e͏̶͏.̴̢͠ It's enough to bring her down, slumping against the nearby Torren. The cracking sound echoes likes a steady drum in her mind. She feels ill, her stomach all kinds of twisted. Cold. Dizzy. Ņo̴͏b̀͟o͘͘d̷̨y ͝h̶҉͝a̵͟ś̸͘ ̡t̸o di͜͠e͏̶͏.̴̢͠

— T͏O̴G͠ETH͏ER̕ ÁT̴ ̸T̕H̶E ST͏ART̶ O͏F̀ ̵TI̡M͏E —

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