JUST GO CLICK, CLICK, CLICK ☆ patching wounds

[wormwood.]

NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS — The monthly meeting had been a disaster, and rightfully so. Aurum wasn't sure what the hell Stryker had been thinking, deciding to bring together all of the groups that utterly hated his guts and sincerely wished death upon him. The whole event was just sort of a blur in the lion's mind for the moment, a rush of various violence and words and fuzzy memories. One thing that Aurum knew for sure, however, was that he had gotten a bit injured during it. Nothing huge, just a bleeding mouth and a few moderately deep scratches along one side of his face. However, he didn't want to leave anything exposed, knowing that would only leave him open to more trouble in the future. He certainly wouldn't be ready to fight, if he was battling against some kind of terrible infection. So, he had headed for his home, searching around the various rooms until he found what he was looking for – their little homemade first aid kit, full of bandages exactly for situations like this. Well, situations like this, and smaller things, like one of his children falling and hurting themselves.

Once he had the kit, he headed out for the porch of his home, wanting the light of the midday as he got to work. He made himself comfortable on the firm wood of his porch, slowly beginning to clean up his aching and bleeding jaws with the bits of gauze that he had. He had considered going to find either Moth or Kiira, but he hadn't seen either of them in quite a while, and he didn't really want to bother either of them with such minor injuries. Taking a deep breath, Aurum put some of the bloody gauze aside, picking up the bandages and beginning to apply them to the scratches on his face. They stung a bit, but otherwise weren't too bad, considering Sojourn had caught him on the side of his face that was missing an eye. As he slowly patched up the scratches, he mumbled aloud to himself, "Bandages and... and... oh, I can't remember. What was the herb that helps prevent infections? I know Moth told me..." His eyes then narrowed in thought, trying to remember what he needed to apply to the scratches before he finished bandaging them. — OF THE MAN WHO WAS BORN AND DIED A KING.

[arrow]

CAUSE EVEN BLOOD WILL RUN, LIKE THE TEARS OF A SAINT !
It had been a good thing, more or less, that she hadn't witnessed Aurum getting injured. There was a horrid sense of distress and weakness that came with seeing something that you knew you very well couldn't do jack or shit about. And it had nothing to her being a ghost either, though it certainly didn't help. Everyone was so much stronger than she was, and it had always been that way. Even if she was still flesh and bone, she wouldn't have stood a chance. A repeat of her getting her ass kicked several times over would have been in order, and more injuries that were nowhere close to honorable would have just been more stress and more work. More shame.

At the same time, there was a nagging sense that the meeting gone awry could have been one of the events that strongly contributed to her quite literal spiritual awakening. The threat to the grounds woke her the fuck up, the presence of blood on the ground must have knocked her ass back into full gear. Speaking of, she wondered if her old home was still in tact, made into sanctuary for someone who needed it more than she did, or just vacant and rotting away. Maybe she'd look eventually, but she knew it would sting either way.

"Wasn't it marigold or somethin'?" No audible steps announced her presence in the area, specifically closer to the edge of the wooden porch, but that was only because she hadn't walked up there in full view. She was just...there. The light of midday caused a nearly shimmering effect when the rays caught her directly, like sunlight bouncing off the water. It could have been fascinating enough, if not offset by the ever present strangeness that was being able to almost see completely through her. In any case, she looked in decently better shape than when her soul first emerged from the depths of the marshland.

Arrow shifted from sitting upright to laying on her stomach, tucking her paws under her chest like a ghostly little loaf of a cat, as if she wasn't a dead woman just lounging about. Fake it 'til you make it. "You'd think I'd memorize a few with how many times i've been injured. I'm surprised no one beat me with their plant stack." If she'd made it a little longer, her money was on driving Delilah crazy. Deep down, she wondered where the pink girl she'd called her best friend had gone. Dead, lost, some other manner of just not being here. Not that she blamed her, she'd been dead for much too long. It just felt terrible she didn't get to talk to her one last time. She violently shook her head, like she meant to shake out the memories. They were beyond gone, and Aurum was here, him and the rest of Tanglewood. If there was any reason to still be walking around out of place now, it was to at the very least watch over who was still alive. And if she couldn't actively help him with his injuries, she could at least just give him the indication that she was still concerned.

[wormwood.]

NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS — Aurum's head snapped up at the sound of a familiar voice, startled by Arrow's sudden presence. It would probably take some time before he got used to her being around, as well as her being in her current form. After all, her having no footsteps made it pretty difficult to tell that she was coming, particularly when he had been focused upon patching himself up. He blinked slowly at her words, nodding his head before he let some of the bandages fall away from his face. As he began to search through his little homemade first aid kit, he found himself rumbling in amusement, "I think you're right about marigold... I really should just ask Moth, but I haven't seen her around much lately. Not to mention the fact that she's a bit angry at me, at the moment..." Not that she didn't have reason to be, all things considered. Really, he was still angry at himself. He never should've agreed to letting Atticus go and try to get help. While the other certainly had connections, he was sure that The Pitt would've listened if anyone had come to them with the right offer, as well as telling them about Atticus's capture. Instead, he had just let Atticus put himself in danger, without considering all of the ramifications of that.

With a heavy sigh leaving him, the lion eventually found the small stash of marigold he had, mashing it carefully before he applied it to the scratches. He winced a little as he worked, feeling the faint sting of the herb seeping into his wounds. As he worked, he muttered to Arrow, a small smile returning to his face, "Heh, I suppose I' msurprised too. I'm sure that about half the medical team got most of their training out of treating your injuries. But still, you were... you are a part of Tanglewood. I'm sure they didn't see it as a burden. They still don't. Kiira, Moth..." He trailed off slightly, his one eyed gaze focused on the ground. It hurt to think about, but there were several names missing off of that list. Like Selby, and Delilah. He could still remember how his heart had ached upon hearing the news of Delilah's death from Vigenere, although it hadn't been entirely surprising. Despite being a medic herself, the dragoness had always been pretty sickly, and ultimately her death had been inevitable, with nothing able to help – not even her own medical skills.

Brushing away those unpleasant thoughts for the moment, the lion carefully took up the bandages that he had let drop, layering them onto his face and humming softly as they covered the scratches and marigold. Once he was done, he turned back to Arrow, smiling and saying with a bit of amused sarcasm, "Hmm, how do I look? Good as new?" He knew that his work wasn't exactly five stars, but it would work for now. Until he was able to get some proper rest once all of this was over, shoddy patch up jobs were all that he could afford himself. He had food to catch and a group to hold together now that their leader was dead, something that was still weighing heavily on his mind despite how he tried to push it away. Not only would there be time for resting later, but there would be a time for grieving later as well. — OF THE MAN WHO WAS BORN AND DIED A KING.