Open Acclimating To Kalinor

[Massacre]

Massacre glanced back over at Purge, noticing the cougar hanging from her harness, and logic kicked in. Obviously the cougar had done it, not the Zith. If the Zith had done it, she wouldn't be helping Scorn right now. That was all Massacre needed to know, and with Scorn's confirmation, all doubts about the mystery Zith were cast aside. Massacre gently laid Scorn down at Purge's request, surprised that a Zith would know something about medicine. He ignored the question about him being her mate, mostly because he wasn't certain of the answer. Their relationship had never truly been defined, but both Zith cared for one another, and neither seemed to have any desire to be without the other. That might be largely in part to the fact that both Zith had been alone for so long, and didn't want to risk being alone again, but Massacre couldn't deny he had a genuine attraction to Scorn that went beyond not wanting to be lonely. "I am Massacre. This is Scorn. Is there anything I can do to help?" Massacre knew next to nothing about treating wounds. When he got hurt he generally just left it alone to heal up on it's own, or back when he had a tribe they would catch a slave to treat the wounds. That probably had a large bit to do with all the scars on his body, which might have healed up nicer had they received proper treatment, and why one of his arms was slightly more prone to dislocation than normal. Massacre was willing to help though, whatever was necessary, to make Scorn better.

[Purge]

Purge waits patiently as Massacre settles Scorn down, her eyes taking in the two, her head tilting as she absorbed as much information as she could. The way his hands cradled the female, the way the female had gone directly to the male, it all spoke of some feeling. Probably different then merely occasionally mating. Shrugging, Purge was too newly matured to be worrying about that overly much. Purge knelt beside the downed Zith, her knees curling easily, and her hands itching to groom herself for the blood on her front was starting to dry and mat the fine down of fur. However she waited, instead she took placed her hands on the Zith's disfigured leg, ignoring the fresh spurt of blood from the bite marks that it caused. She had broken a slaves leg once, testing the durability of a human bone and she found that the leg of a human was not too different then that one on a Zith. Though the Zith's tended to be more porous, lighter which made sense considering the ability to fly. "You can go and fetch cloth..something to bind the leg." She was still speaking the beautiful sounds of Zithanese, the almost melodic of the high frequency language a balm to her ears. "Then I will ..fix.. set the leg.. and tie it until it healed." Purge shrugs, her voice still lacking compassion but not lacking the insatiable curiosity that seemed to always itch at her mind. "It will hurt. She will scream, you can either hold her down, or make sure that nothing hears and comes before we set it?" Purge finally gave a smile, it was a hard smile but a smile none the less, aimed down at the fallen female, a hand awkward as if she was unused to such gestures reached out to pat Scorn's arm. "It will be over soon, and will see if we can find some Ginger to make ginger tea...Ginger is good for pain." She had learned that from a particularly stubborn slave.

[Scorn]

Purge was talking to Massacre. Scorn struggled through the pain to figure out whether she should be jealous. But no, the attention of both of them was thoroughly on Scorn. Once she had determined that, she stopped paying attention to the words. Only pain filled her mind. Her breathing was ragged, and sweat matted her fur despite the frigid temperature. She tried to focus on Massacre's voice, the low rumble being the most familiar and comforting. But even Purge's voice reminded her that she was among Zith, and not stranded with only the stick men to help her. Despite the excruciating pain, she felt a relief she had not known was possible. It was going to be all right. She was among Zith. She panted and tried to ignore the pain in her leg, and to keep it as still as possible while Massacre searched for bandages, but by the time he returned, she sensed that something exceedingly unpleasant was about to happen. Instinctively, she reached out for Massacre, wanted to flee from her pain into the comfort of his arms. A sad, scared keening sound rose up in her throat as she failed to avoid imagining what would happen next.

[Massacre]

Massacre had no idea what ginger was, or tea for that matter. His knowledge of liquids included water, that which came from his body, and the rare taste of alcohol found in human possession which he did not care for. He did understand cloth, however, and he understood what needed to be done. He might not know anything about medicine himself, but he'd seen dislocated limbs and broken bones, even experienced it himself, and had an idea of what was soon to happen. Massacre quickly flew away, heading deeper into the city. The entire city was filled with silk, and there was plenty enough for Massacre to pick from, but he needed something that was loose and ready for the taking. He went to the place where the thin people gathered to sell foods and luxury goods. It didn't take long to spot what he needed, a merchant at one of the amethyst stalls selling luxurious silk scarfs. Massacre swooped in, startling the merchant who was just setting out his wares, and snatched a pair of scarves from the table. He ignored the shouts as he quickly turned and flew away, not understanding a word the man was saying anyway. His actions might come back to haunt him later, but Massacre gave it no thought, worried only about Scorn and making sure she was okay. Soon enough he was back at her side, silk in hand, and giving it over to the other Zith. "I will hold her. Scorn, be still. It's going to hurt."

[Purge]

The entire time the male Zith was gone, Purge sat on her haunches, her arms propped on her knees. Her wings were held loosely raised behind her in preparation. There was a fresh kill, and then there was also Scorn who was mewing like injured prey. If Purge was on the hunt, and she heard an animal making the sounds that Scorn made she would zero in. So her black eyes scanned the distance, watching and waiting. If this was one of the slaves hurt that she practiced on at home she would simply sit in silence whilst another slave ran to get what she required. This was not a slave though, it was a Zith. "It will be okay. Your mate will be back." Purge said, the awkwardness in her tones telling of her being unused to offering such words. She also didn't really care much if the other man had answered or not her question on being scorn's mate. It seemed the most likely course in her mind. Why else would he be so protective of the other, without even a nodding glance at the kill that Purge felt sure she probably wouldn't have been able to protect against him should he have wanted it. When Massacre returns, and speaks to Scorn, Purge waited patiently until the other two seemed to be ready. Fortunately the break was not on a joint, Purge would have had to find a stick or perhaps find a larger animal to kill for its bone to tie and make sure Scorn kept the limb straight for healing. This break was in the middle of the bone, took a little more time to heal but as long as Scorn kept her weight off it then simply binding it tightly should have it healing straight. She just had to put the bone back together so that the ends fused together. She was not Rak'kelli marked, so it was the best she could do. "Ready?" She asked, not really even waiting for the word to finish leaving her lips before her hands close around the leg of the other Zith. Her fingers find the bone, and one hand puts her weight on the female's thigh to keep her body still, but the other wrenched the leg out, and pushed inward until she heard the scraping of the bone ends together. Quickly she took the first scarf and wrapped it around the leg, if it was kicking too much she would simply turn and straddle the leg to keep it stll. Tying it tightly over the wound, she then took the other scarf and tied it slightly lower, the clothes were very tight, not wanting the bone within to slip from place. "If you don't walk on it that should do." Purge said, sweat having dotted her brow, but she was honestly smiling as she looked at her crudely done job. Most of her practice was on slaves -of them mostly human- and it was fun to work on a fellow Zith.

[Scorn]

Everyone telling her it was going to hurt was not exactly doing wonders for Scorn's comfort. She tried to take comfort in Massacre's presence, but when Purge touched her leg she began to feel rather unbearably anxious. Her answer to Purge's question of readiness was 'no', but sadly Purge did not give her a chance to voice her protests. From the following moments, Scorn only recalled screaming and pain, but the firm hands on her limbs prevented her from the movement she instinctively tried to enforce. When Purge was finished, Scorn's leg ached horribly, and she was crying like a yearling, only much louder and longer. At least she was not screaming anymore, and some corner of her mind was capable of rational thought. It was only now that she worried whether her injury would make her useless to the colony. Luckily, Purge's words encouraged her on that front; it was only her leg that was useless. She still had her wings, and her claws. She could still hunt. She could still protect the colony. ...She just had to wait for her leg to stop hurting. "When will it not hurt anymore?" she demanded through gritted teeth. She hoped it was soon. The cold air from the mountains was starting to get to her, and the cavern entrance was not exactly the most comfortable place to be resting.