OOC: Vague, set after the WB Challenge.

Alexander had barely managed to stumble out of Wolfbron. Every inch of him, every nerve was on fire and he wasn't prideful enough to admit that Ryker had done a number on him, despite his own victory. His shoulder was missing a good chunk of skin and the left side of him was covered in more blood at this point than his own fur. Breathing was ragged, nostrils flaring heavily with bits of saliva dripping from his jaws, his heart still hammering in his chest. The only thing that drove him now was anger. Betrayal. His throat felt too tight to roar, but it was all he wanted to do right now.

He wanted to hurt his brother as much as he'd hurt him. And their family.

How...how could he do this?

She’d first walked into this land as a young, naive girl with the promise of adventure and hope in her heart. She had truly, wholly believed in herself and her duty, her path set out before her. But the path eventually began to crumble, and she was left to find her own way. Had she? No. Hazel could safely say she failed, and the girl that walked into Amaryllis lost her way so very long ago. Hazel is used to bloodshed - too used to it, maybe. She thinks nothing of following the fresh scent, the familiar beast that bleeds into the sand. Oh, it has been so long since she’d slipped free of his sleeping form in the early hours of the morning. So long since she shared her den, her body, with him. Just for a little warmth, a few hours of pleasure instead of pain. For her sins, she had suffered. The sickness that had taken her to the brink of death and taken more than her life had stripped her to the bone; Hazel’s plush fur is dead and dull, her bright eyes no longer so alive, her frame more bone and skin than fat and muscle. And this is her in recovery - how pathetic. Perhaps she could hurry the process along, heal herself, but the effort is too great for her to care. Would he recognize her? Would he care? Hazel doubts it, doubts herself for following him from the Bluffs and the challenge, but he is - well. He is hurt, and her nature is to help, even if it’s painful. "Alexander," she calls, her voice raspy from disuse, once she can see him ahead. "Stop." Catching up to him is exhausting. Damn his giant legs.

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This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of Self Harm.

He is so consumed in his rage that he doesn't hear her approach - or her smell her. In this moment all the hurt, the pain, the sadness of Anthonius' betrayal comes crashing down on him at once. He had made them look like such fools, so weak, so incapable of handling anything. The blood in his veins felt hot, too hot. He wanted to tear his own skin off to relieve it. Panting heavily he stops, whether because she said so or because he was caught up in his own thoughts, it was unclear.

Blood trickles down his shoulder, coating the sand and causing chunks of it to stick to his paws, his limbs. He doesn't care, he lifts his left paw and attempts to drag it down his leg, wanting to relieve the pressure that was building up there, unknowing that it was already an infection making the limb throb painfully. Manic in his desperation, the beast doesn't immediately react to Hazel's presence. Finally it hits him.

Alexander.

The Savante freezes, blue eyes turning slowly, his body following as he gazes upon her. Brows raise, then pull together in concern - for a moment relieved for the distraction. "Hazel...are you...are you okay?" He murmurs softly, stumbling toward her a bit before stopping again, unsure if she would welcome him close. "You look tired...can I help?" How amusing it likely was, to see him offering help in his state. What could he even possibly do?

He stops, but does not turn. Hazel steels herself as she moves around him, looking for his face - and seeing something she did not expect at all. The gasp almost escapes, but the druid clamps her lips shut to stifle the noise as best she can. Her heart beats thickly, heavy in her chest, at the sight of @Alexander ♔'s claws in his skin. "Stop -" her voice gives out as he lurches toward her, stumbling. Hazel’s ears flick back against her skull. "You’re hurt." Ignoring his questions, rejecting them as best she can, Hazel shifts around to see his injuries better. Her satchel, ever by her side, is dropped at her paws. Somehow, that grounds her better than anything else; she feels her own agony and fears slip away as her focus shifts to his wounds. Something she can do, something she can be good at. Useful. A purpose. "Sit." The healer commands, expecting to be obeyed without complaint. No comment is about his claws, no reprimand or scolding. One look in Alexander’s bright blue eyes tells her everything she needs to know about his mental state.

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The tips of his talons sit poised within his own flesh like a dagger, but as she approaches, the paw lowers abruptly, as if ashamed. Yet, he felt compelled to explain, "My leg it, it...it is burning." He stammers lightly, the sound of his own voice sickens him. Never in his life had he sounded so small. The urge to argue builds up in his throat, but it's choked back by the sheer strength it takes not to break down further. Gritting his teeth, he settles to sit before her, finding the pain in his leg was crawling further into his chest and neck. Mother, he wanted it to stop.

"I have let...everyone down, Hazel. It is all my fault. I could not control him. Could not stop him...he brings death to us all." The words trickle from his mouth in a flurry of words, his throat tightening with every syllable. In this moment, torn down, Alexander felt pathetic. He had fought wars and won them. He had killed, he had destroyed. The Dieudonne, he did not fear them, it was what they represented that terrified him. The idea that his family was no longer safe.

How could he fix this, where was the Mother, had she really turned her back on him as Anthonius implied?

Shaking his head, the beast inhales deeply, sobering himself. Finding his center. Focusing.

No, the Mother was here.

He could feel her beneath his feet. Could feel the warmth of her love ebbing into his body to calm and ease his suffering. Blue eyes had closed, attempting to calm his frantic mind, they open and settle more firmly on @Hazel. Had the Mother sent her? There is a relief in his eyes, as if relenting to her help with quiet submission, "I am sorry."

Hazel’s brows knit together as she examines the big beast, her expression struggling to remain neutral as he explains his leg burns. She leans forward, bending down stiffly to sniff at the thick cut along his forelimb, and recoils. Poison. The druid swallows a few curses before she stands once again, finding a few herbs in her satchel that will help. She bites the inside of her cheek while she works, while she listens - knowing some of Alexander’s ramblings are fuelled by the infection and poison in his blood… a lot of it isn’t. "You control no one but yourself." Hazel says softly, trying to soothe the lion more than stop his worries. She cannot fix that. She can only fix his body. "Not even kings truly control anyone. It is a choice to obey, to follow. The man that challenged - it was his choice. If there is death, if there is war, it is his doing." She sighs. "I saw you try to stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for." Hazel knows, all too well, that the Dieudonne and the Bluffs will come for blood - they will extract revenge on Alexander’s entire family. Their lust for war is unquenchable. Her own children, Miroslav by blood, have inherited their father’s war. If they’re ever discovered, if they’re ever found, Hazel does not doubt that Wolfbron won’t care if they have never lifted a paw against them. They won’t care that Alexander didn’t want this. "Chew on this for me, Alexander. Do not swallow it." Hazel returns to the moment and presses a small bunch of herbs to his mouth. "You have an infection, and poison, in your leg. This will make it stop burning."

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She seems to be inspecting him, but Alexander is caught up in her words, completely unaware that there had been poison involved at all. "He was my brother..." He speaks, voice choking around the word. The muscle in his jaw twitches as he struggles to exhale a breath, trying to control the emotions sweeping over him. An ear flicks in her direction, lids lowered as drowsiness began to hang heavy over his head. "Even if it is his doing, we will pay the price." No matter what happened to Anthonius, the Savante would be at war with the Dieudonne now because of him.

He had sworn to find peace, everyone in his family...that had been the goal all along.

Had it been a fool's dream?

Brows draw together as his blue eyes flutter open at her instruction. The fire in his leg and shoulder was a bit duller now, but he was unsure if that was a good or bad thing. Alexander was not at all a healer, he'd always left such things to his much more capable sibling, Camellia. And his niece. Csitri. His heart clenched as the image of them mangled and dead, torn apart on the ground flashes in his mind. Growling deep in the back of his throat, he takes the herbs Hazel offers without a word.

The beast chews, and chews - the taste is foul but it is a welcome distraction from the nightmares plaguing his mind. Infection, poison. Ryker had used poison on him? If exhaustion hadn't begun to seep in, he might be furious. He might seek the bastard out and finish what he'd started. Instead, he suckled and chewed on the medicine that @Hazel had offered quietly, waiting for the burn and ache to stop.

Was. That one word carries so much weight, so much pain. Was. Hazel was married, Hazel was a mother. She was a woman full of life and promise, she was happy, once. The man that challenged for the bluffs was Alexander’s brother. Hazel was pregnant with his children. She can’t argue with his statement. Alexander’s whole family will pay for this crime - if you can call it that. These lions… this place - they hold onto land as if they have more right to it than anyone else. As if they deserve it, just because. It isn’t just the Dieudonne that feel that way. Hazel has yet to find anyone that doesn’t think they are more deserving than anyone else. "I know." She says, not unkindly. But she has nothing else to offer; her idea of politics simply doesn’t exist in this world. Everyone is too up their own asses to not take offence. Hazel works quietly while he chews, making a thick poultice to smear on the worst of his wounds. It will draw out infection, cool his wound, and keep dirt and grime from getting in while she organises more medicine for his journey home. "I don’t have everything I need here, but I’m sure you have healers in the Hollows. This will get you home safely, without pain."

image by nesla, code by koi

She is a comforting presence, one he was not used to relying on - yet here he was, wholly relying on this woman. There was something unsaid in her mind, in her heart - and in his delirium, Alexander can almost feel it. Or perhaps that was the pain hitting his brain. Inhaling, he focuses on the disgusting piece of medicine he was chewing on, allowing it to numb the pain that coursed through his body like a hot lava.

There is a foreign feeling seeping into his body. The way she healed was not the way he was used to and he knew that he would need to be embraced by the Mother. It would, of course, help - and he could already feel his limbs becoming lighter and his physical burden lifting. Sighing heavily, the beast leans into the woman, but is careful of his weight.

She mentions the Hollows and he shakes his head, "No, there is...a cave nearby. We need to go there. After, can you...can you go find my Aunt? She was injured badly. She must be on her way here." He murmurs, his heart twisting at the thought. Teodora must be in so much pain, she must be struggling to find her way here. It pained him to think that his family was so torn apart right now. Once upon a time they had been indestructible. Inseparable and loyal beyond imagining.

A cave? Hazel frowns. He smells strongly of the Hollows, but maybe they keep their medical supplies elsewhere? Or is he out of his mind from the infection, poison and now painkillers Hazel had fed him? He doesn’t seem too high to be talking nonsense, she supposes - And when Alexander leans on her, there’s not much choice left on the matter. He’s too gods damn big to really carry, but she seems to be more of a crutch for his balance. The druid sighs, her body already aching from the exhaustion of just following him out here with her weak body. But there’s no argument. He mentions an aunt, and she has to restrain her glare. "I’m not your family’s personal doctor." She snaps, but there’s very little heat in her words. It's an argument for the sake of it, as if she needs to at least pretend to defend her honour. All the same, she gingerly steps forward, wincing to herself. "Lead the way." Exit.

image by nesla, code by koi