Closed Newcomers (Rufio, Brocton)

[Waisana]

71st Fall 516AV

She poked at the fire, stirring around the fuel absentmindedly as she watched the flames dance before her eyes, the heat emanating powerfully from its depths. The teen stared at the blaze with a hunger in her gaze, the only source of light she'd seen for days in this dark hovel. The feel of Syna on her face was a distant memory, the brightness something that seemed like a dream. If she could see her reflection, she would have known how pale she'd grown, her skin so white that it was sickly and almost translucent. Blue veins traced faint patterns at her temples, her skin tight against her skull where the fat had been lost. Beneath each eye, the surface was purpled and sunken. Loose strands of hair stuck damply to her forehead, the bright blonde dulled to a grubby yellow. If Waisana had seen herself, she wouldn't have known it was her. She knew she was in need of daylight and she missed it dearly. She pined for home, for the grass, for the sky and her Strider. She longed for the simple pleasure of collecting herbs and washing clothes in streams. The hope of returning home had long since dimmed, the possibility a vain fancy that she knew would never come to pass. Other Drykas had been taken like she had been but no move had been made by her people to rescue them. If they had not come yet then she did not think they would. If the numbers taken thus far had not made them move then the doctor was sure all was lost.

A shriek came from overhead but the girl didn't look up. If there was one thing she had grown accustomed to in her time here, it was the sounds of fear and pain. The atmosphere around her changed, a palpable excitement growing among the Zith and the human slaves. Waisana glanced around and found heads turned upwards. Gazing up into the flickering shadows, she saw one Zith fly down and then another, more screams echoing overhead as their prey struggled in their grasp. The girl left her place by the fire, raising herself quickly to hurry off in the direction she'd seen the winged men land. Others surged forward in curiosity, eager to see the newcomers but were put back in their places by the ones on guard who growled menacingly or spoke sharp words if necessary. The doctor was not turned aside unless the beasts didn't get a good look at her or were somehow unknown to her. For the most part, they knew who she was and they let her through. The teen hadn't been able to gain access to the new captives until after the sorting the last time but this time, she had hope.

Zith continued to land with struggling humans in their grasp, the teen marvelling at how many had fallen victim this time. If the numbers were as large as they seemed then perhaps the Drykas would do something, maybe she would have the chance to return to Endrykas and feel the sun on her face once more.

She found her way barred by Zith who would not let her pass. Beyond them, she could see those who were landing, shoving their prey in front of them to be penned in by the gathered Zith. Waisana spotted Massacre returning with a brown-skinned woman whose short black hair stirred some sense of familiarity in the teen. Whoever it was, she were known to her, at least on sight and that was as good as knowing her as a person. Her sight of the young woman was lost to her as she was added to the collection, Massacre moving to take her place in the grouping and temporarily close the gap to hem the humans in.

"Massacre!" Waisana shouted. The female Zith's head turned slowly to regard her through narrowed eyes, baring her teeth slightly. The doctor looked towards her pleadingly, gesturing for her to come to her. The Zith turned her attention inwards once more, no doubt communing with those around her as they judged their new stock. The doctor stamped on the spot, frustrated by her inability to do anything. She knew better than to call the female again. The Opal girl waited, vainly hoping that her patience would pay off as she watched more added to the stock. After a few chimes, Massacre detached herself from her brethren and approached the blonde with a look of displeasure. The guards who had blocked the teen's way, moved aside to allow the female through and left them to their interaction.

"What is it you want? Why do you want it now?" the female snarled, teeth flashing dangerously as she spoke. Her wings spread out fully behind her, curving slightly towards the slave intimidatingly. She shrank back a little, bowing her head so that her gaze was focused on the other's navel.

"I want... wanted to... I thought I could talk to the humans that came," Waisana ventured in a quavering voice, cringing in anticipation of a violent show of the Zith's ire. "I know you don't like screaming. If they aren't scared then they won't scream and if I-" She was cut off as the plait at the back of her head was tugged, forcing her gaze painfully upwards. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes as the hair pulled painfully at her scalp. Massacre leaned close to her so that their noses almost touched and the teen had no alternative but to lock onto the menacing, midnight blue gaze.

"You think you are better? You think you are special? You are different, you are useful but you should know your place," the she-beast hissed, spraying the human's face with spittle and breathing a stench of rotten flesh that made her stomach twist queasily.

"I'm sorry," the blonde squeaked. Her eyes shut tightly as a rumble came from the other's throat that grew gradually louder. She trembled, anticipating a thrashing as the other gave into her passions. Instead, the sound abruptly ended, a result that was even more terrifying for the slave. She didn't risk peeking to try to gauge Massacre's level of rage but shook harder. The movement of air was the only warning she had before lips were forced against her own. Claws dug into her scalp and her mouth opened in a wordless cry of pain. The ferocity of the kiss increased, fangs scratched her lips and nicked her tongue and then the presence was gone, the blonde released.

"Come!" It was an order that was obeyed without a word, the teen pressing the side of her hand to bleeding lips as the tip of her tongue throbbed. Fearful eyes flickered up to the back of the dark head, the blue tint flashing into the blackness as salt water trickled down to join the metallic saltiness of her blood. She sucked the wounds as she reached the circle, continued to suck them, wondering if she would be able to speak as an opening appeared. Massacre grabbed her shoulder as she hesitated, propelling her staggering form into the midst of the newcomers. Waisana's blue eyes flashed wildly over the faces, not taking them in as the pressure of the situation suddenly hit her. She forgot how to speak, her gaze darting over the curious gazes of the Zith as they waited to see what she would do.

Calm. Don't scream. "You must not panic," she signed and spoke in Pavi, the gestures feeling odd to hands that had grown unused to such communication in the preceding days. "Does anyone understand Common only? Can everyone understand?" she asked, switching language as much for the sake of the Zith who would be unappreciative of her use of Pavi, which was unknown to them. Not all of them knew Common but they would be satisfied that some of them would know what the slaves said.

[Brocton Firestone]

TITLE

Continuation from this thread

--Fast forward a few Bells--


For the long run, Brocton put up a decent enough fight. Though, unfortunate for him, he didn't put up a long one. It seemed that the Zith were tired of him, and they've just decided to snatch him up, like a crow snatching a worm from the ground with its dextrous claws. Though, Brocton was sure that these winged beasts were far more dexterous than a crow- they were obviously a lot bigger and more tough than a small frail bird with black feathers and a loud annoying kaw. The hunter was snatched by the winged beast no less than a few Bells after he was cut several times from their claws while he defended himself from them. The blonde wrestled against the tight grip feom the Zith that snatched him. It was difficult to tell, the pain he's having in his shoulder's right now, judging by the feel of it, he was in great pain. The Zith that attacked him long before left a gash in his shoulder, and still the Zith has been gripping on it as if it doesn't care.

Brocton held back tears as the pain etched deeper into his skin, perhaps cutting through all five layers of his abode and even to the bone inside his skin, heck, he couldn't even figure out where the claws have positioned within him. He wanted to use his hands and fight back at the Zith, but he didn't want to fall either. They're probably over hundreds feet high, flying frightened the Drykas. He was almost so timid now, he could possibly wet his trousers. He cursed repeatedly over and over at the Zith, but it's grip only grasped tighter as he was carried on through the night. If there were other captives, he didn't see much of them, it was too dark to even notice anything from his eyes. Are Zith same to see through the night?

What felt like forever came suddenly, and they moment if things feeling ever so long diminished as the winged beast dropped and declined further through the night skies. Brocton could speculate done snippets of stone from the min as it shown while they declined. All of a sudden the light was there- now, there was no light and the speed of the decline grew ever so faster. Brocton screamed as he flew downwards, nite he could hear other people- Drykas perhaps, screaming with him as they've reveled downwards inside a mountain, or the ground, or whatever it was that they were dropping into. The shift of speed made the blondes stomach lurched a bit.

Brocton wanted to throw up, he didn't like this experience- especially now that they're flying downwards with twists and turns and flips and a lot of stuff that made Broctons stomach unsettling. The hunter didn't feel much of a hunter at this point, in fact he felt hunted by now, he didn't feel encouraged enough to fight back or thought of a way to escape if there is one. Mainly, the thoughts going on inside his cranium Where- will he make it out alive, are they going to eat him, do Ziths eat people? They seemed vicious enough to attack people, so why wouldn't they?

--Brocton wanted out--

Soon enough, he was dropped by the rest of the captives and their were snarling Ziths circling them, and other humans and Drykas outside of the circle of Ziths. Brocton kneeled as he inspected his wounds on his shoulders, the claws from the Zith that carried him here to this, cavern, place thing, had been inhabited by other people, and he was more worried about himself than anyone else at the moment. If he couldn't find anyone to get these gashes and cuts cleaned and bandaged- would they even have all of that stuff? Brocton didn't even know that his clothes were damp from the rain during the Zith attack, and that rain didn't even help those that were trapped in the circle of fire, the Drykas failed to help his people, and almost failed his Pavillion, the Zith won him, and took him away. The hunter grew angered at the winged beasts and stayed quiet, barring his teeth at them as they observed them like pack dogs testing another dog for strength and power. What was he supposed to do, egg on the winged beasts? Say good job now that they've captured them? What the petch do they want with them?

Everyone else around him was screaming- his ears rang and echoed violently through his head, merely causing a headache, if not a migraine and Brocton hadn't had anything like it in awhile. He didn't know where he was, and the fire that brunt bright under here in this place, didn't give him any courage for standing up and fighting back. He was confused, and worst of all, he was scared, scared to be confused. He didn't know whether or not that was a bad thing, but then it wouldn't stop- the yelling and screaming. Broctons hands were turning red and damp from the blood on his shoulders as they stung bled. He felt weak, and insecure.

The hunter looked up, and saw a small girl- Drykas, from the looks, he saw her Windmarks embedded on her skin, the tattoo that marked her for who she was, and that tattoo contrasted against her skin more than anything, and her pale skin sickened Brocton, he wondered how long this girl had been here, and he didn't realize that their were so much captured.

He watched her sign.

Calm. Don't scream. "You must not panic," she said, and signed in Pavi. Brocton worried for his fellow Drykas. He decided to stand up and even though the pain stung up to petching hai, he didn't give a petching, he would rather live than get eaten by a pack of Zith.

"Quiet!" Brocton spoke in Pavi, waving his hands around in warning signals, telling them to stop, danger, "please!" Brocton called. He spotted one familiar face out of all this- Rufio. He wondered how in the hai had she been captured like this. "Rufio!" Brocton called. The blonde remembered her from fishing one day, her and Ixzo. Fishing by the lake, Brocton almost intertwined the lines together by accident and he wanted to apologize. Now Rufios here, why? By the Gods, why?

Brocton hugged Rufio and calmed her down. "We must calm our people down. The girl." He pointed over to Waisana as she was yelling at the others to calm down. "She's trying to tell us something!" Brocton called out through the loud screaming of Drykas and human.

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　　　　　 r ufio had been a whimpering, begging mess whilst in the clutches of her she-Zith captor. As soon as her ochre gaze had caught sights of the caverns, though...
　　　　　　　　..she baulked.
Like a rabbid dog that knew the knife was coming.

Twisting, wreathing, resisting. She cared not if she fell - rather take her chances with the fall and the grasslands than in those dark, gaping, swallowing caverns with the Zith!

"Let go of me! Let go! I will kill you! I swear it!"

Her voice was hoarse and rough as she screamed. Although her words stormed up her throat with her temper- she was helpless. The she-Zith ignored her.

As they glided into the darkness, Rufio could hear the thrum of wings echoing loudly. Her gaze widened, her pupils dilated - all she saw was blackness.

Shivering convulsively, the Drykas heard screams all around her - realised with a lurch in her heart that others had been snatched. Guilt-tinged relief quivered within her - she was not alone.

With a growl, she picked up her writhing again. Though with less vigour. The she-Zith took twists and turns and in the dark, whilst flying, Rufio lost all sense of direction - a labyrinth.

When they broke into the warm glow of firelight, Rufio had to scrunch her face against the light. As her retinas adjusted, her wide-eyes took in with shock the gathering of Drykas in a wide chamber.

　　　　Drykas, and Zith.
　A nest of wing and claw and fang.

When the she-Zith planted her on the stone bones of Semele and glided off, the half-Drykas cried out. As her ankle bore her weight all at once, her nerves lanced with pain. Rufio collapsed.

Unbidden tears welled in her eyes and spilled new tracks over her ash-smudged cheeks. She grasped at her ankle - it was twisted badly. Rivulets of dry blood crusted her arm from her shoulder, where a gash tore across and broke her Windmarks.

A woman collapsed down beside her, her greying braids torn asunder by her capture, sniveling, she clutched at Rufio, seeking comfort. Looking around her, the freckled Stormblood took in the screaming, shouting, panic, and felt the knots of fear in her gut unwind with adrenaline into a fury.

A reckless temper stole through her limbs, a wildfire curdling in her chest. She grabbed a man standing next to her to haul herself to her feet - it was Brocton - and began to curse the Zith, spitting threats like a viper.

"Hai, we are Drykas! Our people will come for us! They will come and they will bring a storm ! -..."

The woman kneeling beside her began to wail loudly, joining the clamor when a ragged Drykas stepped in from the ring of hissing Zith and bade them be quiet.

Rufio recognised her, when - "R-U-F-I-O" - surprise stole across her freckled features, and big arms wrapped about her. She recognised Brocton.

His voice uplifted Waisana's plea. "We must calm our people down. The girl." He pointed over to Waisana. "She's trying to tell us something!"

With that the shrill screaming ebbed into a bubble of moaning. Attentions turned towards Waisana - beloved Drykas doctor.

"Does anyone understand Common?" Her voice seemed strong against the whimpering fearful. Many Drykas signed affirmatives.

Rufio's brow furrowed and she called out gently - "Waisana-" her hands made signs for deep embrace, sorrow, fear - and in a thickly accented Common she responded - "Know little."

Her ochre gaze darted to those Drykas that did know Common, and she added. "Other know, other tell, make big little know." Though she spoke in broken Common, her hands were a mix of grass-sign out of habit-translate, share.

With that the half-Drykas stood quiet, listening, leaning lightly on Brocton's broad and steady shoulder for support. A deep dread and nauseating uneasiness as a surrealist reality settled in her bones.

　　　 they were captives...

　　

[Waisana]

Waisana hadn't anticipated that it would be quite so difficult to calm down the crowd. She pursed her lips as she waited for silence to fall, or at least for it to be quiet enough for her to be heard. An urge took hold of her to clutch at members of the crowd to shake them violently. Something primal rose within her, a desire to shut them up at any cost rather than resorting to calm reason. The doctor didn't realise that she was thinking along the lines of her captors, one of whom had shaken her when she'd first been taken to force her to cease screaming. Her patience quickly ran thin and she was ready to resort to terror tactics when she perceived the change in atmosphere, the noise levels beginning to diminish.

Although she sent her words into the mass of bodies, she was doubtful of receiving much of a response. They were too frightened to be of much use for the moment but if they could only become calmer, they'd be sure to be able to understand soon. If she could force comprehension into their heads, the Zith would look more kindly upon her she was sure. However, when she heard her name, she was slow to react. She was ill-used to hearing her name in this environment and she thought that her mind was playing tricks on her; no one treated her like a human being here. Her eyes lighted on the mixed blood girl who she had met earlier in the season when they'd both gone to bestow blessings on Naiya and her new wuepo. It seemed an age since that time now, almost a different lifetime to the one she was in now. Her existence was so different now to what it had been then that it was strange to reconcile those memories with her current situation. She couldn't remember the young woman's name.

The blonde was able to follow the mixture of Common and Grassland Sign although her brain felt like it was being pulled in two separate directions. She was right though as there was sure to be someone who could translate for the rest if Waisana's Common wasn't understood. Perhaps the young man she leaned against was one such person although he hadn't said a word to the Opal teen. Assuming that the word would be conveyed somehow, Waisana considered what it was she wanted to tell them without unduly frightening them.

"You are slaves. Zith own you now. If you are of use then you will be treated good," she explained, watching the various expressions as her words sank in. Some people looked ready to start yelling again and she shuddered to think what would happen if she said that some of them would be killed. "There are many slaves now. There is not food for all. If you are special, you will be fed. If not then you must... entertain. Some fight each other for food, others do other things. Do not scream, do not fight and it will go well for you. If you cannot behave then bad things will happen." She looked to the Zith behind and around her, her eyes meeting Massacre's midnight blue ones.

The voice of one of the male Zith rose up, the deep rumbling boom carrying easily over any noise the captives may have made. "If you are of no use or are too much trouble then we'll kill you," he told them in Common. "It is nothing to us. Maybe, we keep you alive for awhile and eat you slowly. Make an example of you. Live flesh is best." A number of the beasts began laughing, throaty guffaws mixing with deep rumblings of laughter in a manner that was horrible to hear. As it happened, screaming arose among the captive ranks once more and the blonde closed her eyes as she foresaw the bloodbath that would ensue. Sure enough, the sounds intensified as Zith moved forward to snatch various men and women and even some children. The teen found herself unwillingly shaken back into awareness as she was presented with a human.

"Can you fix?" the male before her asked, holding a struggling woman by the back of the neck and gesturing to a gash in her side. Waisana had a job getting the woman to calm down, trying to convince the winged man to put her down. When she was able to peel away fabric to get a look at the flesh beneath, she reeled back, horrified by the extent of the damage before her. It seemed that claws had swiped at her, probably in an attempt to disembowel her and while they hadn't exceeded, they had torn through fat and muscle so that there were things visible beneath that shouldn't have been. How she hadn't already bled to death was a mystery but it was possible that her captor had unintentionally put pressure on the wound by holding her in a tight embrace. She was probably beyond help but the doctor was willing to try. However, in that moment that she had pulled away in horror, the Zith had seen it as a sign that the woman was beyond hope. The talons that had encircled her throat clenched inwards to pierce the skin with ease. Blood fountained out of various holes and the body jerked but the light quickly went from her eyes, even as her nervous system went through its death throes. The twitching corpse was moved away, dangling from that cruel grasp and she was presented with another woman and left to decide if she would be patient or food animal. It seemed that she was too endure a very grim procession indeed.

[Brocton Firestone]

TITLE

The child next to him were calling out for his mother; Brocton did his best to calm him down, but tears began to swell in the boy's eyes and Brocton couldn't fix the tears, he felt a sudden pang of guilt run down the bone of his spine, straight down. It tickled his skin, and he felt really uncomfortable being here, he didn't trust the winged creatures of death; no one did. Knowing full well, he had to listen, otherwise the Zith would kill him instantly, or maybe even keep him as some plaything perhaps, the hunter shivered.

He noticed Rufio's foot twisted in an obscure way, and when Brocton looked at his shoulder, he realized that blood was dripping down his shoulder- down his arm. It was almost nauseating to look at. Then, Rufio leaned her body against his good arm. Brocton knew one thing....

... They were stuck here, and nothing would change that; unless, their fellow Drykas comes to their rescue.

"You are slaves. Zith own you now. If you are of use then you will be treated good,"

The words echoed in his mind. Especially Zith own you now.He understood little common, but those four words changed things; and the ways how Brocton see things as. The Zith own him now... there was something growing inside him; anger, fear, disgust, he was feeling all of the negative emotions, he wanted the Zith to purge, purge in flame and ash, dust and rubble. He wouldn't allow them owning him to happen. He'd rather die. Well, not necessarily die, but at least fight them before dying.

"There are many slaves now. There is not food for all. If you are special, you will be fed. If not then you must... entertain. Some fight each other for food, others do other things. Do not scream, do not fight and it will go well for you. If you cannot behave then bad things will happen."

What does this mean- Brocton wondered to himself in bewilderment, his head was spinning, and he was growing dizzy. Though, he stayed focused, and payed mind to Waisana, as she spoke. Fear trickled up his spine, taking over his other emotions, fear and a mix of courage. If others can stand it, so can he, especially this Waisana person. She looked young, but almost confident.

Their was a sudden louder booming speech, lecture, whatever one should call it- it was a Zith's voice, and the voice rumbled through the cavern.

If you are of no use or are too much trouble then we'll kill you," the Zith said, he spoke better common than Brocton had, he continued, "It is nothing to us. Maybe, we keep you alive for awhile and eat you slowly. Make an example of you. Live flesh is best."

Brocton shivered once more, and whimpered, choking down some tears; he felt broken. More screaming, and the young boy next to him cried, he was plucked from the ground and the boy was thrashing about in the creatures grasp. Brocton pulled Rufio down, and he landed flat on his stomach, As Brocton fell flat, he noticed some others' bodies being torn and carried away, one fell in front of him, the hunter was suddenly picked up, and he yelled a blood curdling scream, he tried to grab for Rufio, but she was plucked as well, talons wrapped around the hunters waists and he couldn't move, the grasp was so tight, it was almost piercing. He was thrown onto the ground, and found himself imprisoned with another tight grasp around his waist, and heavy breathing beside his neck. The Zith's breath smelled of blood and dead meat, and his fur was wet and silky almost, though his claws were sharp and cold.

His hair was pulled back, and his head jerked up, the Zith eyed Waisana.

Fear coursed through him again, eyes wide with terror stricken expressions.

The Zith spoke to Waisana in a dark hissing tone- "Fix?"

Brocton wondered what it meant- fix, but one thing for sure, he didn't want to die, not now. His head was beginning to throb.

He yearned for Itone's guidance, any god for that matter, he silently prayed.

Gods, help me.

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　" you are slaves—

　　　　　　　　　—if you are of no use,
　　　　　　　　　　　too much trouble,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　we'll kill you.

　　　　—it is
　　　　　　nothing
　　　　　　　　to us."

Rufio needed little ken in Common for this meaning to bite deeply into that fire of hope and anger. Her heart sank, her fury ebbed with it. A cold wave of fear and dread washed her caramel skin pale.

The Drykas slaves screamed. Rufio flinched, stumbling back when a Zith ripped gruesomely into a wounded woman. She heard screams erupt with new vigor around her, was surprised to hear herself cry out.

Her hands gripped at Brocton's bloody shirt in disbelief, shivering together against each other. When suddenly he yanked her downward, and Rufio landed with a thud against the cavern rock.

In an instant, claws gripped at him, Rufio's ochre gaze held his, fear flickered between their gaze, and they were torn apart. A she-Zith grabbed at her wounded arm, and she winced, hissing a breath.

"No, no, don't. Brocton!" Her shrill cry begged. The she-Zith raked a tongue against the gash in her shoulder, and sniggered. Cat with mouse, toying.

Rufio felt the vigor of her temper rise warmth to her limbs, lent her strength to her arms, though not to her heart. She tore herself out of the Zith's clasp. A deep-midnight claw rammed out from another direction and struck her chest then.

"Oomph!"—Rufio was thrown to the ground, a leather thong about her body was snapped by the sharp edge of this Zith's talons, and a pouch that had rested at her hip was scattered to the ground.

Her bones strewn across the rock, making an unnervingly melodic chattering as they scattered. Like chimes in the wind.

The half-Drykas felt her stomach lurch, and she scrambled forward to retrieve the wolf fangs, a hawk's breast-bone, rabbit femurs, strider molars, and a single, smooth, ochre stone. In its polished surface, the chaos of fur, wing and Drykas reflected.

"The bones, don't touch 'em!" Curse, bad luck. Her tone bore an oddly foreboding depth to it, wrenched from the depths of her gut, tinged with Shiber. Superstitious, warning.

Her fingertips raked against the rough stone in desperation, and sweat seeped into her eyes as her gaze sought the only one who could aid her here.

At her feet, beseeching, the fortune-teller stared into the pale, gaunt features of the Riverflower doctor—the mirage of Rufio's memory of her golden and glowing flickering over for a moment—as if Waisana had the power to protect her.
　　

[Waisana]

A young man was pushed in front of her, his head pulled backwards by his hair. Despite his pained and terror-filled features, she recognised him instantly as the one who had helped to convey her message to the other Drykas, calmed them enough so they could listen. This time, she kept her expression more guarded as she moved forward to examine him. She set her jaw and adopted her most professional demeanour. The blood came from his shoulder, dripping down his arm and she traced the trail back to the wounds. There were holes in the fabric of his clothing where talons had punched their way through to the flesh. She could move the fabric aside to peep through the little rends in the material but it made it difficult to assess the damage; instead, she ripped it apart to afford herself a better view. The blonde probed the skin carefully and gently, checking the width and depth of each tear and split.

She nodded. "Yes, it is not bad. Easy fix," she explained, looking the Zith in the eye briefly so that it would see the sincerity of what she said before dropping her gaze once more for fear of provoking his ire. She took a measured step back, nodding and waving him aside as another two Zith jostled for her attention with their own snatched captives. A scuffle ensued between the three creatures with total disregard for the humans they held. The doctor glanced around, searching for someone to intervene for the sake of the captives although at this stage, she should really know better; the Zith settled matters with violence like this.

Her roving gaze lighted on the mixed-blood girl once more, the teen given a start as she found her looking right back at her. Her eyes were pleading and desperate, so close that the youth gasped in surprise and horror. She wanted Waisana to help her, that much was clear, but she didn't know what the other wanted. She took in the bizarre array of bones and teeth that the girl had gathered up, some still scattered on the ground. A she-beast pursued her, hanging back to give her prey the illusion she'd escaped. She was ready to pounce and bring the human screaming back to the horrible reality of the situation. Her eyes flickered over the scene and grasped the situation quickly.

Stepping forward, she put herself between the Zith and the woman, moving speedily before the creature could act. Her swift movement caught its attention and earned a vicious growl.

"Wait, wait! Don't touch!" Waisana called out as she put herself in harm's way. She realised as she looked directly at the she-beast that it was the one that had shredded the man's chest on the doctor's first night in the colony; this was the one who had provided her with her first patient here. There was no Massacre to step in to protect her and so the teen had to talk fast before the beast decided to take her head off.

"She has special magic. Bone magic," she explained, gesturing to the body parts that Rufio held. She didn't know much about fortune-telling but she'd seen the odd trapping of it before to know what it involved. She didn't have a clue how it worked or what bones were used but she knew that people didn't carry bones around for no good reason. She could only hope that the ZIth would listen to her.

"I'll check her. See if I can fix," she explained, making a placating gesture with her hands so that she wouldn't be attacked. The female grunted and nodded, settling back into a resting position so that she was no longer ready to spring but there was still a tension to her limbs that showed she was prepared to move at a moment's notice. Given permission, the doctor knelt beside her new patient. She slipped into Pavi, her words and signs slow at first and quickening as she became familiar with using the language once more.

You hurt? "I can help if you tell me. If you are bad and I cannot help, they will want to eat you. I need to know what you can do. Tell me what skills you have and I can make them keep you," she explained. Medicine? Herbalism? Sewing? Magic? Bone magic? she signed, pointing to the bones Rufio held. She ran her eyes over her patient, searching for a source of injury. She knew the woman had to have an injury; everyone came in with some hurt or another.

[Brocton Firestone]

TITLE

Brocton was pushed to the side by the dark coated Zith, it's claws dug into Brocton's back, off in the distance he could hear the screams of the other Drykas captives as they're being plucked from the ground and distributed as useful versus non useful.

The hunter was quite relieved to know that he wouldn't be served for dinner tonight, though, the doc seemed to have had ripped his partially new shirt that he'd gotten some time ago, with his mother. Brocton's hair was still tugging at the back of his head.

"Stop." Brocton hissed in Common, he clenched his teeth. The Zith lowered his head, and Brocton could smell the rotten aroma that lingered off of the winged beast.

"Or what?" It hissed. "I owe you. You mine." The Zith hissed, and stroked it's tongue across Broctons neck. The Drykas shivered, and felt highly uncomfortable, he's never been treated this way ever. He felt violated, and he wanted to get away from this Zith. What made it even more unsettling, was the "Mhm, tasssty." Comment as the Zith licked his lips. Brocton's stomach did a double take and he didn't feel comfortable whatsoever. He must be free soon.

At least, the Zith stopped pulling on his hair by now, as Brocton saw Rufio be delivered in front of Waisana. Some things had fallen out of her pack, and the hunter was really curious, bit he wouldn't be able to help Rufio when he's unable to move. The Zith holding him licked his lips once more as he watched Rufio panic almost and freak.

"Wait, wait! Don't touch!" The blondes words carried over to the Zith who was going to touch Rufios' things. Brocton wondered what they were himself. He would ask about it, but he's in a merely different scenario, and now he's starting to realize what freedoms he won't have anymore.

"She has special magic. Bone magic,"Waisana called out.Brocton watched as the blonde went over to check Rufio, she seemed to be exchanging words, but if Brocton were able to hear anything, he's unable, all he can hear is the heavy panting behind him. And the stench of rotting meat lingerering. Brocton was beginning to have second thoughts. He wasn't sure if it was bad... or a good thing.

[Rufio]

　　
　　　　" she has special magic.

b o n e m a g i c..."

Rufio held her bones to her chest, clustered in her palms, as if to protect them against the Zith. As Waisana knelt by her, the half-Drykas felt relief slip into her features, mingling with apprehension.

Her gaze danced often to the she-Zith, who watched with a narrowed, feline, suspicious stare as Waisana spoke in their native tongue.

"I can help if you tell me. If you are bad and I cannot help, they will want to eat you. I need to know what you can do. Tell me what skills you have and I can make them keep you."

The fortune-teller waved at her right ankle. Injury "It's just twisted. I will heal." As with Brocton, rivulets of blood crusted her upper left shoulder where claw-marks had torn across her wind-marks.

Shallow cuts, mended easily with rest and medicine to keep infection at bay. The half-Drykas shrugged and gestured to her torn flesh, answering truthfully. "I know what herbs might heal these kinds of wounds." Use, ken, assist.

Rufio fixed her ochre gaze, then, on the Drykas' face. Hesitating with her answer as she caught subtle hints in the fortune-teller's perceptive gaze that offered a glimpse of insight into Waisana's mindset.

The slowness in her Pavi, the gauntness in her face, the paleness of her complexion, and the hunch in her shoulders. It spoke of her days and nights spent with the Zith and Rufio felt bile rise as a sense of acceptance roiled about the doctor's presence.

Had Waisana given up on life with the Drykas?

She added hastily. "Yes, yes, bone magic!" Her plea offered a use, her shaking hands gestured at the Zith. "I can offer talismans-" protection, strength, prowess.

Rufio's Shiber-tinged tongue stumbled over the lies. Her tone ardent, persuasive, though fearful. Characteristically brazenly truthful, seeing an absence of hope in the doctor filled her with wary mistrust.

hope would keep her alive.

Waisana's acceptance was a reflection of what might become of them. Rufio's fear..

　　

[Waisana]

The anger and panic in the half-blood's features melted away as Waisana spoke to her, relief in her looks as she scrutinised the woman who had stepped in to defend her. She appeared a little distant from the doctor as if she distrusted her and it was a fact that made her worry, scanning Rufio's face as she tried to gauge if the other was holing anything back. Surely she understood that Waisana was here to help her and that it was in her best interest to tell her what she could. Maybe she was reading her all wrong but that was the impression she gave to her.

The blonde's hands fluttered over the obvious wounds that marred the tattooed skin of her shoulder. She'd suffered at the talons of their hosts. She lightly traced along the edge of the cuts with a finger and pronounced them easily treatable. Claws had only lightly scored the flesh and she thought it would be a simple matter of cleaning and bandaging them. It might be necessary to stitch the tears here and there but they weren't a major concern right now. Instead, she turned her attention to the ankle of which the girl had been so dismissive. Rufio didn't know the way of things here and hence, she didn't understand how dangerous such an injury could be. If she had trouble with mobility, that could be the death of her.

"The shoulder is easy to treat. Herbs are hard to come by here though. We cannot go out to get them." Trapped, confined, smothering. she explained briefly before bending close to examine the woman's ankle, probing it gently to assess the level of damage. It was swollen, the flesh spongy when she pressed it. She couldn't tell if it was merely twisted or if it might be broken but she did know that she needed to bring the swelling down. The blonde chewed her lip as she puzzled over what could be done with the supplies she had at hand.

Her eyes flicked up to meet Rufio's as the girl ardently expressed her usefulness. The teen didn't understand anything about this bone magic and so the talismans she offered sounded genuine. They seemed like they'd be useful for the slaves if they could be secreted away but she supposed that they might appeal to the Zith. She wasn't sure how to sell the idea to them but she would be able to communicate it far better than the other could. Her own grasp of Common was better but she hoped that it would be up to the task.

"The Zith would want them?" Useful, wanted? She gazed earnestly at the other, willing her to give her the answers she wanted, wanted her to prove her usefulness so that she could pass the information on to their captors. As she waited to see what the young woman would say, she waved to the nearby she-beast who approached with eager menace, perhaps thinking that Rufio was now free game, that the doctor was deeming her unfit for life. The teen was quick to explain what she wanted before the creature drew near enough to be in range to swipe off the mixed woman's head.

"I need water. I need cold water and lots of rags. I can fix her," she explained, obviously disappointing the Zith who rumbled a deep growl in her throat. A snarl ripped from a mouth of bared fangs before the beast stalked off, much to Waisana's relief. She smiled weakly at Rufio.

"I can help you. Your foot is swollen and I need to help it. I can cool it and you can put it on my shoulder and lie back. The height will help so you can get better quickly. You need to be better quickly. The Zith don't like people who can't do things," she explained. Frightening, dangerous, deadly.