before, she had watched him break another. now, she watches him bend – as does her faith in him. if he endeavored to save her, if he sought to unleash a deep-seated vengeance upon the unknown man – whatever the reason is lost upon her. cherry gaze drinking in their violence to sate a thirst for dual curiosity and amusement, but it is much more than she bargained for. chaos unravels in the background as screams of agony and bellows of victory entwine in a hellish cacophony, images of bodies hitting the floor in defeat playing in her peripherals. and she is quick to realize that there are some bodies hitting the floor for the last time. the youth can only withstand so much, mental exhaustion setting in as her innocence is tainted by blood and blood and blood. she hesitates, uncertain, toeing the edge of loyalty and self-preservation as she looks upon her king. she thinks to help, to serve as his crutch as they flee the battlefield, to at least call out to him in hopes of dragging his attentions from the fray – but the calls stunt in her throat. she spares one last glance to the men as she turns to leave, limbs hoping to carry her far, far away from here. -- exeunt olive, unless stopped?

art by yumpy!

Pain.

It shoots through Fallon's wrist and the moment the excruciating fire begins in her ankle, she knows very well that it has been broken. A loud snarl of pain leaves parted jowls as she attempts to step away from her opponent, the grey figurine pissed off that she may befall such a treatment and from someone considerably younger than her. With the fur on the back of her neck standing on end, the lithe figurine attempts to hobble away -- her body sore and littered with lacerations and bruises. She cannot see Fálki and so assumes that he has already departed.

Wounded, Fallon makes for a quick departure, eager to lick her wounds in peace.

Exit Fallon

table by ferus, art by argenticide

Ghyslaine

She hears his muttered words, and a smile finds its ways to her jaws, as she moves away from @Antares.

Her eyes linger on the battle that is quickly fading into nothingness- leaving behind it a wake of destruction in the mud and the gloom. She still isn't sure how this all came about, and though she appears to be watching and looking for someone else to drive away, her gaze is almost unfocused. She is exhausted, and luckily for her, it is just about over. Alaric must have won, though she does not see her King anywhere. Actually, she doesn't see many of the Mire anywhere- all that remains, as she finally shrugs and turns away to retreat into the gloom is strangers having it out about their various issues.

-exit Ghyslaine unless stopped-

_{art by yumpy}

The bitch fell, her face nice and fucked up and Alizabeth couldn't be more happier. That was, until the other decided to call her a cub killer. Before she can protest and try to correct the bitch, Amara leaves. Irritation bubbles in her chest, a desire to further battle springing up, but Alizabeth knows when she's got to take a break. For the most part. Gritting her teeth, she notices Nero isn't here anymore and panics a moment. Someone had likely taken him to be healed. Surely? Nostrils flare, she catches a scent - his, and follows after it immediately. Where the fuck had her son gone?

/exit Alizabeth

define your meaning of war, to me, it's what we do when we're bored

table by sentinel / art

Pain shoots through Halvar’s frame as they break apart, and within a few seconds the fight is forgotten entirely as his attention snaps from the black beast to the battle his sister is - was - in comes to a gruesome end. Erna falls, and chaos erupts around the bodies. Rike blood mixes with the swamp water with little to show for it. Disgusted, the dark lion turns from the scene and stalks from the war, keeping his weight from his injured limb. Doubtless the others will find him, and he expects they won’t be far behind. For now, all he can do is retreat to lick his wounds - physical and otherwise.

Exit.

Amara's call stops him in his tracks as it beckons them to retreat back. His eyes slip towards where Olive once had stood, only to find a vacant seat. Truly sad, he thinks, before dipping his head towards @Seneca in a theatrical bow. As much as he wanted to tear into his prey a bit more, appearances came before meal-time. And Apollinaire was not without proper manners. If their Queen issued an order, then he shall obey. At least while his mind hadn't gone off into the deep end. He turns, albeit not as swiftly due to his injuries and the pain of his bruised shoulders, and leaves the battlefield.

exeunt Appolinaire

coded by flea + art by rabbit

in the beginning...

...the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep.

      The orders given were heeded without hesitation. In another situation, giving orders to the Captain might've had her expecting a good slap across the face--which would've sparked a fight, though not a challenge of rank. In this situation, there was only an understanding of the gravity that was shared mutually between all gathered. The still-standing boy (Finnulf) gave his explanation then turned to find water. Water in the lungs was bad, and not just for the obvious threat of drowning. Infection would be far more painful, and a far slower way to die. That wouldn't happen while she was here.
      Francesca appeared at nearly the same time as the boy, both with mouths full of clean(ish) water. A nod to the lioness expressed how thankful she was to have another crewmate here. "Good. Good." Her words were murmured between licks, praise for both the boy and Francesca for their haste and care. In only a few short moments, the mud had been cleared from the fallen one's nose and breath was coming more and more clear. There would be so much more to do, but the immediate threat was over; He wouldn't be choking on swamp muck today.
      Using a claw, she dragged a few small leaves from one of her medicinal piles. She scooped it up with her tongue and mashed it against her teeth until it was a goopy clump. Then she leaned down and shoved her tongue into the fallen boy's mouth along with the medicine. Pulling back, she used a paw to tilt his head up and another paw to rub roughly at his throat. The natural reaction would be for him to swallow, and ingest the herb she had given him. That would kickstart the fight against any infection, and help keep him sedate.
      She stood up, giving them all a glance. "I got 'im breathin' okay. Gave 'im some stuff that'll keep 'im from gettin' sick from it. Now he gotta go." She nodded to the standing boy (Finnulf) in acknowledgement. "This one got it right. Ain't safe here. Le's go." Then, without flourish, she scooped her herb piles into a clump, caged them between her over-long teeth, and dropped a shoulder beneath the fallen one's form to lift some of his weight. With her frame and musculature she could've carried him alone, but she waited for help before moving. More support meant a smoother ride. And they had water to cross if they were going to the Cay.

exit

---

words. 415
tags. @Calhoun, @Leviathan, @Finnulf, @Emrik, @Francesca
notes. wanted to wrap this up <3

Trade: Medic
+10 save a character's life through healing
2/2 posts

code by corvus

OOC: Super sorry if I missed anyone that had directed their post at Cirilla, or has tagged her. I tried to get everyone <3

She should have known not to take on an opponent bigger and older than her, but the Sigrún blood than ran thick in her veins meant that she couldn't resist. She saw so many members of her family jump into battle, the young girl couldn't help herself. Strength in numbers. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives.

But alas: this lone wolf faced defeat when @Louve had hold of her leg. It was stupidity on her part, really, to raise her leg that high, to make it so avaliable in such a position. Because when the Dieudonné increased her hold, there was nothing that the brown girl could do. Because when she heard that unmistakeable s n a p of her leg, there was a sickening feeling that flooded over her almost instananeously. Panic overcame her and in a bid to get the girl to release her grip, Cirilla pulled backward with all her might. She wanted nothing more than space from her opponent who had, no doubt, gained a confidence boost from her victory. Perhaps one day - when she was stronger, bigger and older - Cirilla would return the favour.

But for now, assuming that Louve had released her grip on the broken leg, Cirilla retreated and rosé eyes frantically scanned the Mire for someone she recognised. There was carnage enthralled with chaos still, and whilst she would love to get herself into another fight, all she wanted right now was the safety of her siblings and her mother. And it was then, at the thought of her mother, that the girl's eyes fell on the scene in front.

@Emrik on someone's back, @Finnulf looking evidently traumatised and unsure of what to do, and then there was @Leviathan (who, surprisingly, Cirilla had yet to realise her relation to him), who seemed to be involved with Finn somehow. There is also another male - @Roarke - who seemed to be staring vaguely in her direction. Did Finn have something to do with the Galloway Crew? Bewilderment combined itself with pain as she stumbled across the clearing, her vision blurring as she entered a daze. Answers were not what she was looking for right now.

Making her way across the Mire, narrowly missing other fights, Cirilla found the safety of Finnulf. She fell, then, unable to weightbare anymore, and looked around for assistance. She pleaded with Vellen to get her out of here, anywhere but here, and then slips into unconsciousness as the pain she experiences becomes too much for the child.

Exit via unconsciousness - feel free to assume a member of the Galloway (probably @Roarke) has carried her away

THERE'S A WOLF IN ME TOO,

table by sentinel / art

oh sweet victory.

pressure mounting, building, until that delicate little bone snaps between her teeth. louve wants to shake the girl like a damned ragdoll, worsen the damage and ruin her little leg forever, but before she can do so @Cirilla is retreating.

a jerk backwards and louve relinquishes her grip, a swell of pride racing through her young body. this was what it meant to be dieudonne. a bloody grin at the smaller girl before she spat in her direction, and then turned away at her mother's summons.

back home, to heal and to rest and to relive this moment over and over, until a better one takes its place.

-exit louve-

A VOICE MADE OF TEETH

table by sentinel / art

[[-casually glosses over everything because i've waited way too damn long to get his exit here -_-;;; -]]

As attractive as the idea of raiding a very distracted pride was, they had new priorities now. Making sure the kids were safe was more important than stealing everything they could carry from the territory's stores. Levi had the right idea, getting them to Caly, and home, and they could sort the story out later.

Edward would move with his crew, keeping alert for any that might get the stupid idea to attack while their backs were turned. They could always come back later, anyway. Now that they knew where the place was, and the terrain itself would probably be helpful. He was not above slathering himself in swamp muck to sneak in and out of an unsuspecting pride with whatever he could grab.

-exit-

code by corvus