[Dust Bed] Licking Your Wounds.

[Roka]

Time Stamp: 27th Spring 512 AV

Sunberth was in uproar. The city had taken to its subsequent round of witch hunts. The inhabitants of Sunberth were always so impulsive and brutal. The streets were pummeled by angry mobs, with various sharpened objects, from spears and swords, to pitchforks and shovels. They scoured the innards of the area searching for anything at all that could even suggest to one being related to magic. Already bodies were hanging from rafters along the streets. People hardly noticed their heads being grazed by limp and dangling feet above.

Roka had been careful, sure that he didn't transform often and around many people, he didn't want to be associated with the use of magic in a place like this. He had fared well so far, so it could only be assumed by the law of ratio that his luck would indeed turn.

Day's prior he had thieved large loaves of bread from a local shop while retaining his fox form. The shop keeper having enough of lost profit seized a broom to hurry after the sprinting fox.

Sliding into an alley, he discovered his stashed clothing and transformed back, and quickly squirmed into his clothing. No one had seen, but when the keeper rounded the corner he eyed him suspiciously cursing at him rants of overgrown vermin in the city. Roka remained silent, not to give himself away. Still the man remained uncertain, especially by the loaves of bread he spotted a few feet from Roka, though he claimed the fox had run through and in panic dropped its loot.

So now on a day of more chaos and violence than usual, Roka had gone about his daily activities, keeping himself busy, by practicing climbing up onto the roofs of buildings. He had been working on finding ways from the backstreets to get elevated. He had been successful a limited number of times, finding nooks and crannies in the old stone buildings, and ruling himself fairly agile, he could maneuver from wall to wall to reach higher and higher peaks.

In doing so on this day, he had been shrouded in an alley, and had slid down the wall at the sound of an approaching mob. He went unnoticed as most passed him by, but a small group peeked into the cavern of the darkened lane and spotted him.

Roka remained still and tried to appear unthreatening. He felt his muscles tense ready to bolt. One face from within the mob yelled "Ayye! Your that little thief!"

He was stunned; it was the shop keeper, belligerently drunk and pumped with adrenalin from running with the mobs. "I am no such person." Roka retorted trying to smooth his voice into calm.

"Yah that right? Maybe you’re some kind of magic user too? You made that animal just...just poof!" the man joked pointing a boney finger toward Roka. The gesture made him want to rip all his fingers from his hand.

The fellows with him laughed as they all stepped forward, unfortunately more amused with Roka's now fidgety behavior. He couldn't help it; he was searching for an escape route.

Roka walked forward simulating confidence he did not feel at the time and sought to walk past the group "I'll leave you too your thief hunt then." He murmured.

A pudgy hand gripped his arm and jerked him back "Your jus' gonna walk away are ya?" The man hissed and Roka could smell them better now among the putrid smell of the city they smelled of ale and blood. The man whose grasp he was in smelled particularly foul like he'd been soaking in rotted meat.

The man flung Roka back into the alleyway and found they had formed a circle around him. A growl emerged from his throat, as he lowered his stance expectantly.

"You look rather girlish and fragile to be a man of Sunberth." One of the men sneered flicking a blade through Roka's hair. He was greeted by a hiss "Your right, I've been working on appearing more like the lot of you fat bastards." Roka barked.

It was then that the first blow struck him landing across his jaw. He lashed back managing a kick to the throat of another approaching him. He fought well, avoiding where he could and looking for opening in which he could assault back. If grabbed he could usually think of a way to slip out of it easily enough, several of them would depart with blooded and bitten arms, but there were at least eight of them and all significantly larger than he.

Eventually he found himself held fast by three of the men, and couldn't think of way to remove himself, as the others, luckily, only used their fist to smash into him.

After several hits in the chest and in the gut, his stomach contracted and he wretched hard and lost his breath. He had nothing in his stomach to expel but just the repeated action and the lack of oxygen made it even more difficult to retort their actions.

Once he had stopped wiggling in their grasp, they became bored and let him limply fall to the cobblestone. They jeered and kicked his form out of their way as they walked past.

The shop keeper remained behind and kneeled over him "You should be more careful little fox," he whispered," next time I'll slice you from nose to navel and hand you to the slavers." He traced his cold blade along Roka's collar, drawing a line of scarlet along his palled skin. Roka stared back at him unwaveringly as he did so, careful not to flinch, as to not add to the man's amusement.

This angered the other, but he got up to depart regardless, dealing a final kick to Roka's chest with a "Tch."

Roka lay there unaided for a long period gathering his strength; the sun was a little past midday when he was able to rise to his feet. His entire body felt sore, and he pulled his clothes closer to him to conceal any injuries spotting across him. He even pulled his hood over his head to hide his developing bruised eye and bloodied cheek and lip.

He spit a glob of red from his mouth and rested against the wall. He mustered a painful chuckle as he thought he could still be considered in good fortune to not be one hanging from a rope within the city, or have had his money discovered and robbed.

Roka walked slowly and quietly through the back alleys of Sunberth, remaining in the shadow to not be viewed. He finally reached the cemetary, it felt befitting for his current feel, more importantly it seemed empty.

He slumped along the far edge against a large and filthy grave marker, leaning against it in rest.

[Lusa]

Lusa had been quite busy lately; training with her Crimson brothers and sisters, meeting so many new people. And then of course, there was the matter of staying alive in Sunberth, which had been much easier since she had joined the mercenaries and gotten herself a job. However, there was still the matter of the ongoing witch hunts within the city. These mobs frightened her to no end, as there was no way she would be able to defend herself against them with her paltry skill in combat.

She had tried very hard to avoid being seen transforming, or giving any indication of her race at all, since her capture by those cruel slavers. I was an experience that had taught her much about humans, both good and bad. It had wizened her, if only a little.

She had been in hiding today, noticing the increased violence in the streets. wandering about, not noticing her direction, only trying to keep from being noticed. She found herself in Sunberth's graveyard, the creepy place where humans congregated their dead. Such a practice didn't make much sense to her, but a lot of things humans did were strange. She toodled about the graves curiously until she caught the smell of blood. Following her nose, she came upon a young man that she had encountered before but never been introduced to. He was in a bad way, and forgetting the fact that wounded animals often lash out, ran the short distance to his side.

"Oh, oh, what do I do?! Hey, are you alright?" she said in a panic.

[Roka]

Roka had been dazed, palms upturned by his side in hushed defeat. His fingers twitched, that was the only movement his body rendered at the sound of an approach. He thought about running, but only in passing, he could probably only outrun anyone short of a cripple right now.

His hood had collapsed from his face and he was sure he looked vulnerable, if this was basically the wild, he would be prey picked off all too quickly.

His eyes guided up to the on comer, seized by a familiar face; a sweet looking little creature. He felt relieved, but just in transient as an image of her grasping a blade at the Crimson Edge gathering entered his mind. He could certainly be all wrong about her.

She seemed distraught at the sight of him, proving any hypothesis of how he appeared. He pulled himself a little straighter to add life to his appearance, but still his face scrunched in a cringe.

It was almost comical to see her so worried and him feeling so indifferent. "Well, just slow down first," He smirked a crooked smile at her.

He cleared his throat, he hadn't noticed until he tried to speak again that his voice felt raw. "It's not as bad as your face says it looks." He assured, "Just bumps and bruises."

He paused, reaching up to his shoulder feeling the open wound that sat there, "Only thing is…this one" He winced as his fingers submerged into it. "It's still bloody, it's a slow flow, but I can't seem to patch it on my own." Speaking to Lusa seemed informal; he didn't feel as uptight and concerned with his words with her as he did with most others. She remind him of his mother, which he found fairly ironic in this situation.

[Chamaeleon]

Recently, the climate of Sunberth had begun to disturb Chamaeleon. She was eyed dubiously where she walked, followed when she wandered, and one night she had been chased after she transformed.

It was no surprise then that the Ethaefal had taken to wearing her cloak and hoping the curled horns didn't raise too many alarms when they caused unnatural shapes to the hood of her cloak. She crept through alleys instead of the open streets and had begun considering leaving tent city and moving further into the Wildlands.

However, it occurred to her that after the djed storm, the outside world might not have been as safe as the one she resided in now. She had contacts here too, people she could try to rely upon to hide her when the fights got more violent and she had to face the heartbreaking truth that people may want to hurt her.

Currently, she found herself in a graveyard, the only place that seemed devoid of life and anger. Her blue eyes glinted from her shadowed hood as they danced around tombstones, seeking a witness to what she was going to do in order to conceal herself.

She was going to try and face change enough that her horns were no longer there to give her away as something less easy to describe than a human. Without them, she could be just another girl until the brutality passed and she didn't need to fear so greatly.

In her search, she saw two forms, and balked. She couldn't shift her face if locals were nearby. Her ruse would be given away and worthless.

She would have panicked had she not managed to recognise the man, with his flowing black hair and pale skin. She recognised the unnatural red of blood upon him and felt seized for the first time by a fistful of anger and worry, and her mind narrowed in on the one leaning over him, immediately suspicious of her intent. She forgot the thought of concealment and walked instead to the couple, her hand beneath her cloak carefully reaching to grasp the handle of her Lash should she need it. As she neared she heard them speak, but she didn't voice herself yet. She listened with intensity and when she heard him lament the wound he couldn't bandage himself, she spoke.

"What happened here?" She asked, raising her free hand to pull back her hood. Immediately her skin flushed with the golden presence of Syna, although for a breath of a moment it was unusually pale. She smiled at Roka, but her eyes were still suspicious when they settled upon the woman. "Have you hurt him?"

Where her protectiveness of him came from she couldn't say, but in the short while she knew Roka and found him to be a pleasant sort of companion, she had grown fond of him. It had occured to her that she could help him with the cloth of her cloak and waterskin in her bag, but she didn't fully trust this woman not to stab them both as she did.

And yet, she knelt next to Roka and reached to curl her slim fingers against his shoulder and examined the wound, showing at least some measure of trust since the woman hadn't yet harmed Roka further.

[Lusa]

Lusa started greatly at the woman's approach, nearly bolting away from the two in fright. Placing a hand over her now racing heart, she quickly stammered out a reply to the woman's harsh accusation.

"No! I didn't do anything, I found him this way! Wait! You're-" Lusa cut herself off, cursing herself for nearly blabbing. She had met this woman several nights prior, but she had not taken human form in front of her. She didn't recognize Lusa! Of course she doesn't, idiot, why would she know it was you? She thought. But this was absolutely the woman she had seen changing her face! She might be in trouble if she couldn't convince her that she meant no harm. But it might not be safe to let the woman know that she wasn't human; she'd learned that lesson well enough.

"I only wanted to help him, I promise!" While she was speaking, her hands were idly smoothing Roka's hair, patting his brow, attempting to soothe him.

[Roka]

"Chamaeleon," Roka was surprised by her sudden appearance. He wasn’t sure how she had wandered to him. He could only assume that she was escaping the carnage of the witch hunts. He realized that they all seemed to have something about them that would make them favorable targets to the days sport, but never-the-less he felt happy to see her. If he had his tail it would have wagged eagerly like a cheerful mutt.

"She's right, she's was helping" His voice sounded breathy as he melted into the strokes of Lusa's small hands. He found himself leaning towards her; he was putty in her capable petting hands. It was nearly enough to make him forget about how the rest of him felt, a weakness he had discovered only recently, and touch was like an indescribable high he yearned for in either form apparently.

"Lusa, please don't be so scared..." he closed his eyes, even if he hadn't been pressed to her he could hear her pounding heart. “Chamaeleon is kind, she won’t harm you." he assured placing a heavy hand onto hers, a gesture that felt natural to him.

He was glad that even in this awfully scented laying ground for the dead, the smell of the two at his side was even a welcome relief. Yes he found himself very fortunate.
.

[Chamaeleon]

Chamaeleon smiled as the stroking of Roka's head soothed him. She had to admit that it looked very comforting, and that was a great help that she could use.

She looked at Lusa, seeing she had frightened the girl, and smiled again. The girl was as skittish as a deer. Perhaps she had been fleeing the angry locals too.

"Did the locals do this to you?" She said as she returned her attention to Roka, examining his many cuts and scrapes and finding herself saddened that people would hurt him. "I can bandage them for you. And clean them of dirt. It will hurt though, and I'm sorry for that."

She reached up and unclasped her cloak and then unslung her backpack to pull out her waterskin. Her Symenestran lash hung off her hip, but she no longer thought of using it unless some angry people came and tried to hurt them. She didn't want to scare Lusa anymore than she already had, and in fact didn't want her to be scared at all.

Chamaeleon found being scary to be a unique experience.

[Roka]

Roka's eyes appeared glassy and dazed as he listened to Chamaeleon speak. His mind recalled them laying together in a lawn of manicured greenery and bathed in sunlight. That was a memory he could now easily recollect when looking at her, no matter what form she took. She was someone he felt sure of, more so now, that if something threatened her, he would be by her side. He wanted to be that friend to her, to take her hand if she ever needed him.

He ran through the people that affected him in his life recently, the list was longer than he had expected it to be, it then came to mind that his mind had taken him to such an exaggerated emotion, that he was running through a list of people he cared for. He knew he wasn't going to die, he understood he wasn't mortally injured, but even still, he was glad to know he had encountered life beyond what he thought it could be. He now knew that even if the majority is predisposed to one set form, he had managed to find at least a small handful that where very different. He owed them more gratitude than he showed.

"It’s fine, like I was telling Lusa, it looks much worse than it actually is." he assured the corner of his mouth lifted in a reassurance. "I leave it to you then, do not worry about me, and just do what you must. I trust you..." the last words were sharp edges emerging from his utterance; he still found it difficult to say such things, even if they were true. Even harder still to remain bite his tongue when he felt his body pulsing as he lifted himself farther up the stone he rested upon.

He found Lusa's gaze and chuckled, "I'm sorry; I know we've only encountered in strange ways lately, but do you mind staying here, while she dresses these wounds?" He asked because he did want her there and she seemed to understand how to sooth him. He appreciated that for the moment.

[Lusa]

"You can heal him?" Lusa asked reverently. Healing was a skill that Lusa greatly respected and admired. To be able to soothe the wounds of others was a great gift. Lusa strove for a similar feeling with cooking; to watch others benefit and become happier by her actions.

"Here, you can lean against me. It isn't much, but it must be more comfortable than that hard dusty stone." She offered to Roka. She wanted to help, but knew there was little she could actually do besides soothe him.

Turning to Chamaeleon, she gave her a serious look, and spoke quietly. "Is there anything I can do to help you? If he trusts you, then I do too." She said, smiling.

OOC: Sorry for the extra short post. Creativity is low o.O

[Chamaeleon]

"I trust you, too..." Chamaeleon murmured in reply to Roka's words. She looked to the softspoken Lusa and smiled at her kindly. "If you can tear strips of cloth from my cloak, that would do for now. Roka, you will have to remove your shirt."

She, unlike some people, had no problem with seeing shirtless men. It just didnt bother her, and it would be easier if he wore nothing to conceal the wound she wished to dress.

When he did, she took hold of his upper arm and uncorked her waterskin, pouring the lukewarm fluid over the blood-caked gash and washing it away in a torrent of pinkened wanter. She wished it wouldn't hurt him further, but she suspected it did. Even so, she didn't stop until the wound was clean. She shivered at the sight of it.