AIN'T NO REST FOR THE WICKED / o, injured

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    / continued from this hot thread


    He couldn't remember ever crying like this. Defeated sobs had many a time left his collasped lungs, and sometimes no sound was breathed at all. But now - now he didn't know what to feel or what to do. The boy lay in a inky pool of his own pitiful excuse for blood, apparition bruised and broken as he had given up on tending to the wounds inflicted upon him. Freckled cheeks were dark with damp streaks of bitter tears, yet no crying passed his lips, tightly pressed into a line as his body wracked with pain and grief, each tremble corrupted by a dwindling anger. The poltergeist had only been isolating himself in the medical commune's expanse of lush gardens, when an unfamiliar direwolf succeeded in tracking him down. It was horrendously stupid that he was breaking down over a flute, but he supposed that's what his existence had come to. That his closest companion was an instrument, crushed and melted. The poltergeist was hunched over the remains, breath coming in harsh, painful wheezes as his sides forced themselves to heave out whistling air. The boy had dragged himself into a briar, obvious from the smear of obsidian blood trailing into the brambles. The beautiful garden clearing had been marred by a mixture of both the poltergeist's unholy substitute for blood, and his attacker's crimson lifeforce, staining the petals and moss, recording every tooth and claw successfully sinking into flesh. Ultimately, Beck had lost, unable to defeat his larger opponent. While the boy himself was numb to the damage to his form, his apparition was very much wounded by a prince seeking revenge: bite marks shredding his scruff and hips, broken ribcage cutting into his already punctured lungs, and to top it all off, the arrow wound that had killed him had been bruised and stomped on. His lantern-like visage darkening the longer he replayed the scene of the direwolf snapping and melting his last connection to a massacred family, Beck soon slumped over in fatigue, scarlet-stained muzzle protectively covering his warped and broken flute as he slipped into and trance, plotting his retaliation.

    ➳

    ❝ SEND ME YOUR LOCATION❞

    The vaguely pregnant female had been regret using Super Senses― lately it only brought distressed scenes to her sight but was useful in many ways. Her tiny paws weaved the stems of an floral through another floral, decorating the garden with more nature life to extend it's beauty even more: none could get too much beauty of nature. Though something seemed strange as if inaudible sobbing could be heard, which the Sunguard deactivated her Super Senses― unknowingly scared of what she might discover. The tortoiseshell female rose off her hindquarters, heading to the hardly noticeable groans.


    The form of the warden could be seen, his muzzle rested upon an clearly eradicated object and obviously distressed― her strides becoming longer in distance til her tropical forest pigmented optics widened in shock. What the fuck? She quickly conjured up her satchel filled on medical supplies, tossing out her art supplies and possibly damaging them by the impact upon the ground. Her widened optics frantically rumbled through the bag with her tiny paws, before losing hope and dumping everything onto the ground.


    Her soft voice entranced with the Japanese accent was hinted with worry and fear for Becky― even if she knew that he couldn't die. "Matte! Matte, Beck!" His optics were closing, causing her to shake him before finding the supplies she needed to help the masculine feline. Finding the source of marigold she needed to stop the bleeding and prevent any infection, she quickly chewed the medicine before applying it onto his puncture wounds and bite marks.


    As soon as the wounds were covered in the marigold poultice, she would then gently run her paws across the poltergeist's structure― noticing the bruises that sketched upon the wound which marked where Beck's ancient wound murdered him in his past life. The Sunguard would glance back at her medical supplies scattered upon the ground, locating the Frozen Witch Hazel and conjured up a cloth and wrapping the hazel inside it before easing it upon his bruises. "Don't move any, do you have any other wounds?"

    [ ♥ ]

    Perhaps he really was dosing off, dulled eyes fading out of focus as his thoughts drowned in the memories attached to the once so delicately polished instrument. It certainly felt like his vision was going to slip away from him any moment now, but without the true release of death he was banned from. It was almost tempting, yet before Beck could lose himself among the swimming tears of fatigue and hatred, an accented voice terribly distant and loud at once slipped into his mind, prompting the boy to cautiously tense and raise his hackles to their full height, reflexes acting before logic kicked in. When frantic paws brushed against his cold figure, gripping his shoulders and shaking him, the delusional boy snapped to attention, whipping his head around to viciously snarl at the attacker - oh. It was just Hiyori, worried over his sorry ass. With a defeared wheeze, he returned to guarding over the remnants of his flute, glaring at the sunguard from the corner of his vision. He didn't react for the most part, only occasionally twitching or flicking his notched ear out of hidden pain as pressure was applied. However, when Hiyori inched too near to the perpetual arrow wound, plunging deep into his once-healthy lungs, Beck hissed through gritted teeth, rearing his head and struggling to hold himself up. Twisting around, the poltergeist growled at the medic, pain clouding his senses, "Don't touch me!" His voice was strained and labored, yet her answer didn't come in the form of spoken words. At his sudden outburst, the boy collapsed into a fit of hacking, his ebony ichor flooding into his maw from punctured lungs, and spilling down a scraped chin. Slowly realizing the oily substance dribbling down his snout and spattering the earth, Beck covered his muzzle with a shaky paw, turning away from Hiyori and mumbling through blood, exhausted tone desperate. "I don't need your help."

    ➳