[ P ] i'm no angel, i'm no saviour

this table scrolls!

First Aid Textbook

If someone were to ask her what she had been up to for the last few months, Ikrie would be unable to provide any kind of coherent answer. A haze of memories were all that occupied her mind as of late as she desperately tried to numb the pain with different concoctions of drugs, herbs and alcohol.

And for the most part, it worked. With a cost, though.

She found herself wandering back to her homelands, away from the demands and bustle of the army. They didn't need or want her anyway - not as broken and damaged now as she was. Her limp, while at first was manageable, was made exponentially worse after the attack outside of the bar, and now it was clearly obvious to any who laid eyes on her that she was a cripple. She couldn't hide it, and it destroyed her self-esteem and self-worth.

Ikrie limped along the edge of the lake, occassionally glancing at the reflection that mirrored her. Her purple eyes were sunken in, her body much more emaciated that she usually kept herself. She was a ghost of who she was, and perhaps in some fucked up way, she was punishing herself for allowing the injuries to happen. Maybe if she was quicker, stronger, better at her job, she could have avoided it all.

Maybe if she hadn't have drunk as much as she did, he wouldn't have preyed on her. While the woman had won the fight and forced the man to run, in the end she knew that he was victorious. He had gotten - mostly - what he wanted.

Suddenly, Ikrie halted. Her grey nose twitched, catching scent of something so familiar, so sharp. Purple eyes sharpened slightly as she looked down, seeing the dark blotches in the snow beneath her. Her heartbeat quickened for some reason; a response from years as a trauma medic and training kicking in. Someone nearby was hurt, but where?

Ignoring the fact that the pain was slowly seeping back into her nerves and the drugs were wearing off, Ikrie focused entirely on finding who was at the end of this morbid little trail.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie

The smell of iron permeated the cold air around him as he trudged through the snow, leaving a bloodied trail wherever he went. Crimson stained white with every step he took but he did nothing to staunch the bleeding; the injuries on his legs self-inflicted and left to bleed and fester for the time being. He'd grown bored and lashed out again, but with no real target he'd only had himself. Superficial marks had been made across flesh and bone and a deep red stained his black muzzle.

He paused near the lake, peering out into its icy waters from the forest. The trees were bare but his black fur blended in well with the deep browns of the bark surrounding him. He drifted in and out of shadows as he carried on, having nowhere in particular that he was going. He had no home here, and really he'd had no home since leaving his birth place. As he thought of his home he thought of how it had always felt off until he'd found Lye. Then he'd left with her and together they'd forged a path all their own. It hadn't been Tevinia or Mirahl he'd called home but her... she'd been his home. Now she was gone and while not dead, he was better off believing that than remembering she was married to another, living a life that was meant for the both of them and no one else.

Sinclair lowered his muzzle to his foreleg, teeth grazing the open gashes as he drew his mind from thoughts of her to the pain instead. It was simpler that way, to focus on the pain and suffering than to think of what could have been.

When the thoughts no longer lingered, he continue walking. Eventually, he heard steps behind him and stopped. His ears swiveled on his head. Was someone following him? His lavender eyes narrowed slightly and he turned around, facing the direction he'd come from and scanning the bare trees behind him. He spotted something moving amongst them, though her gray fur was hard to notice at first. A flash of purple caught his attention and he noticed that what followed him was most definitely another wolf. He growled, low in his chest, and stared her down wondering why she was following his blood stained trail. "Were you hoping to find something else?" he murmured, thinking that perhaps she'd mistaken his blood for that of a deer or something else. Not that she looked like she could hunt a deer on her own with that limp and her skinny figure.

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this table scrolls!

First Aid Textbook

As she followed the trail, the blood became more and more frequent. So much so that she could smell the iron in the air, and the scent triggered awful flashbacks from the war. From the attack. Her muscles shook as she blindly walked forward now, her eyes seeing moments of a past she only wished to forget. The ugly mans scarred face snarled in her minds eye, his voice whispering in her ear - louder and louder as her self medication continued to wear off.

Someone growled, and she thought it was her imagination again until she saw him.

Ikrie startled, ears falling back on a silver helm as she stared with wide lavender eyes at a man weeping blood from his limbs. Her sight flickered down to his arms, watching the blood ooze from the self-inflicted wounds. She was experienced enough to know this much, to know it wasn't someone else who had given him them.

She looked back up at him, hardly registering his question.

"I don't hope," she replied flatly, forcing herself to shake off the frozen armour that had overcome her, from the grasp his stare had clutched her with. And so the medic took one slow step forward, and then another, until the distance between them was closed. Where she had found the courage to approach a bleeding, male stranger, she had no idea. But it wasn't like she had anything left to lose, right? If he bit her or... worse... it didn't matter anymore.

"I can help you," the woman mumbled as she lowered her head to look at the wounds. She was close enough now to see old, healed over scars all along his limbs. Curiosity swirled within her eyes for the first time in weeks, but not a single question left her lips. Instead, she raised her head a little bit and looked up at him. It was obvious in her body language that she wasn't too concerned on whether he would react negatively or not.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie

Where her flat response might not garner interest in someone else, it pulled at him silently. He was not one to hope either, finding it tedious and pointless at best. Hope was a silly thing that often left you disappointed. And yet he sat here, clinging to the hope that he could move past his old life and onto something... better.

He did not respond at first and instead chose to watch her come closer in silence. He did not move, he did not growl and he did not speak. She was upon him then and he got a better look at her, her right shoulder and leg were covered in scars that dug through her thick gray fur. Her eyes shone a different hue of purple than his but were all to similar as he peered within them as she looked up at him, offering him help of all things. His first reaction was to say he did not need, or want help, and anyone with eyes could see that he had done this to himself.

He lowered his chin to peer down at her, taking in her gaunt features and dimmed eyes. "Can you?" he questioned. If she were not so haggard at the moment he might find a beauty in her softly colored fur and lilac eyes.

Again, his gaze shifted to her scars and unlike her he was not silent on the matter. "Did you do that to yourself?" he asked, though he was no so sure she could have reached her shoulder at such an angle the leg was another story. Are you like me? was the silent question on his dark lips.

Sinclair shifted his weight onto his less injured leg, blood still trailed down both limbs from the openly weeping wounds. He had to admit he felt a little dizzy now that he thought about it but that was no surprise given the amount of blood he'd lost. He then began to recline slowly, a show that he was now going anywhere and was perhaps willing to allow her to see to him if she saw fit.

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this table scrolls!

First Aid Textbook

Her deadpan expression didn't change as she nodded in response to his first question, taking the words as consent to her assistance. Her trained eyes looked to the lacerations once more, studying them in silence for a few moments before she decided they were superficial, in the sense of being shallow and not hitting any crucial arteries. The problem was that they were plentiful, and that made him bleed much more than his body would be able to handle. If he wasn't feeling the blood loss already, he soon would be.

With that, Ikrie left his side for a moment. Despite the cold weather, moss still grew on the sunnier areas of bark, and spiders still tried - mostly in vain - to spin their webs in these parts. Swiping up some of each substance, the ex-medic limped back to the dark man and gently, yet firmly, pressed the moss and webs into each cut. She did this with a precision and confidence that only someone vastly experienced would possess. Despite her disability, this would always come as second nature to her.

"Did you do that to yourself?

A simple question, yet she froze stiff. She was suddenly aware of his gaze heating the scarred skin of her shoulder and arm, as if he had been staring for a while. In this position, the healed wounds would be easy enough for him to see. Ikrie didn't meet his gaze, instead focusing intently on patching him up while simultaneously wanting to sink into the ground and escape.

After his bleeding had waned, and then stopped entirely, she looked pointedly up at him from her position.

"The shitty patchwork that resulted in the awfully healed scars? Yes," she answered tersely. She was still unimpressed with herself. But she knew that wasn't what he was asking, "The injuries themselves? No. I am a veteran, now tossed from the Army as I don't serve enough of a purpose for them anymore," there was a weird mixture of shame, guilt and anger in her tight voice, "and then some ugly asshole tried to best me - I wasn't even properly healed yet. He made it worse, but I was the one who left with my pride still intact." Why she was explaining this much of it was beyond her - maybe it was nice to actually talk about it with someone. She thought of Galadriel, how she hoped to have seen him again, but he seemed to be avoiding her ever since he patched her up last.

Ever since his brother tried to maim her.

Lilac eyes caught his, and her pale brows raised knowingly. Faintly, a ghost of a smile tickled at her lips. "What about yours?" her tone was almost teasing; the first glimpse of life in her in months. While she knew the answer, there was some sort of sick pleasure she found in wanting him to answer her.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie

She only entertained his first question with a heavy silence and an almost bored expression as she began to assess his wounds. It didn't take her long to do so and he only watched as she went to find something to patch him up with no doubt -- what she would return with he did not know considering the poor weather. She returned with moss and what looked like webbing of some sort only to press them to his wounds with dexterous skill despite her injury. It was obvious she knew what she was doing and had done so for much of her life. She reminded him of his faithful healer in that moment but where she had gone off too he did not know. She traveled these lands just as much as he and having no home meant it was hard to track one another consistently. He had no doubt she would turn up again at some point and so he did not fret for her.

His thoughts seemed to fade in and out of themselves as she worked and when he asked his second question, she stiffened visibly. He wondered if he'd struck a nerve and if she might yell at him but she only explained in a tense sort of tone. It was not a topic she enjoyed, that much he gathered. However, there were bits of what she said that he did not quite understand. "Army?" he echoed, unsure of what she meant by that. Ashira had mentioned something of the same and words on the wind told him about Kings and wars he paid no mind to. He was so ignorant when it came to this land's culture but sometimes he preferred it that way. However, if he was going to change his life he should probably learn something about where he lived or simply move on. His attention was drawn back to her when she mentioned someone hurting her and he canted his head slightly. He wanted to ask where that pride was when she looked the way she did but even he understood that might only serve to annoy her.

Then their gazes caught one another and he felt a small shift in the air. She smiled, ever so faintly, and he bristled beneath her gaze as she asked about his wounds. He licked his bloodied lips, swiping away some of the crimson as he did so. His lids lowered slightly and and then the corner of his mouth peeled back in a half-smile. "Yes," was all he said at first.

"I did it and I'll do it again." he murmured, his smile dropping from his lips. He searched her gaze for a moment. "It feels good." he said, not caring to hide his shame any longer. He was a beast and there was no sense in hiding that.

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this table scrolls!

First Aid Textbook

He was a quiet man, and Ikrie appreciated that about him. He listened to her speak, seemingly caught up in his own thoughts at the same time, which she didn't mind. When she was done, only then did he talk.

"Army?" he questioned, a genuine lilt to his voice. She studied him then for a moment. Did he truly not know anything about the Army, or was he yanking her chain?

"Yes..." she began slowly, one ear tilting back. But he didn't seem to be mocking her. He didn't seem stupid either, so maybe he had spent much of his time in the forests, where the Army hadn't reached? Another thousand questions rose to the surface of her mind. Who was this man? "There are technically two now - the Imperial Army of the Mainlands, and the Jacobian Army of the Highlands - and what was once only Rionnach is now Rionnach and Saora. The war I mentioned split the country in two." it was all common knowledge to her, and saying it out loud only made it more real. Everything that had happened... everything that had ended. She sighed.

He confirmed her suspicions then, responding with a small smile of his own. It dropped, however, as he continued.

"I did it and I'll do it again," he whispered, "it feels good." his voice sounded oddly intimate in their close proximity. She couldn't help but look back at him as he searched her eyes, and this unleashed a confusing array of feelings within her. Morbid curiosity was at the helm, but there was also... exposure. Like he was opening some part of himself that not many saw. It was as if he was testing the waters with her, seeing if he could scare her, but Ikrie definitely wasn't scared. It was completely fucked up that he hurt himself, but why did he do it? Could she coax those answers out of him? Did he like to talk about this?

A puzzled expression painted her features, but she held his gaze for as long as he would allow it, showing she wouldn't back off so easily. He possessed an alluring kind of danger that only seemed to pull her in with each answer he gave.

Her methodical mind whirred, knowing that if he wasn't too careful, the wounds could get infected. But they didn't even know each others names - she couldn't tell him to be careful or not to be stupid without him potentially lashing out at her. She had to play her cards right; a man who could hurt himself could also be volatile to those around him.

"I'm Ikrie," she offered then, her voice soft and understanding. No judgement crossed her features at his response, and she didn't pull or shy away from him. He was a monster, yes, but he was absolutely fascinating to her.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie

Instead of glossing over his ignorance or ignoring it entirely, she answered in part and he was grateful. "Rionnach and Saora..." he murmured, repeating the words upon her tongue as if tasting them for the first time. "I don't know much about this place despite having lived here for a few years. I am from elsewhere," he explained. "I keep to myself and don't venture too deeply into your cities, they are strange to me."

He had only ventured to a bar once and tasted the sweet offerings they had; that was when he'd met the siren, Circe.

He wondered if Lye lived within the walls of a city with her new husband and if she was... happy. He had never known her to be such a thing even when they were together so some part of him doubted and another part of him hoped she wasn't. He hoped she was as miserable as he was forevermore. Sinclair was not the forgiving type, nor was he the type to wish someone set free when he was still so caged himself. But before he could ask more about Rionnach or Saora their conversation dwindled somewhat and she appeared thoughtful, no doubt wondering about what he had said about his wounds and why. He wondered how long it would take her to realize he derived pleasure from pain and how much more longer it would take for her to run. When she didn't, he gaze his own pause and inclined his muzzle toward her as she introduced herself. "Sinclair," he murmured.

The dark man glanced back down at his wounds, which were covered now in moss and web and had stopped their bleeding altogether. He had gone too far this time and perhaps if she had not found him he might have passed out and bled out. Not that he cared; what would anyone care for his death? His wife would not weep, his children would not know. He would be dust in the wind before anyone blinked and he'd be forgotten.

A solemn look replaced his inquisitive expression and he looked back towards Ikrie. "Thank you." he said. "I could have been dangerous... he paused, "I am dangerous," he corrected. "And you still helped me."

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this table scrolls!

First Aid Textbook

She listened to him now, ears tilting forward as he explained his ignorance to the lands politics and how he wasn't born here. Ikrie hadn't met many outsiders in her lifetime, instead unintentionally surrounding herself with just the soldiers of an army she was no longer a part of. Realizing now that that had drastically hindered her social circle, Ikrie paid close attention to him and instead resumed her quiet demeanor.

"Sinclair."

Her chin raised a fraction in acknowledgement as she pulled herself from her thoughts and back to the present. His voice was still soft, hardly raising above a murmur. It was... a nice change from how loud her life had previously been. She could almost get used to this - is this what it was like to roam with no destination? Just a quiet solitude with no one to bug you? She wondered idly, thoughts drifting to what it would be like.

And then his expression changed, and the silvery hairs that ran down her neck and spine prickled.

"Thank you." he began, seeming to hesitate. "I could have been dangerous... I am dangerous. And you still helped me."

While these would probably be troubling words to most, Ikrie simply shrugged. She had already danced with the devil and she won, and while there must be worse men that the scarred one back at the bar, there was some sliver of confidence within the emaciated woman that she could continue to hold her own.

An amused twinkled glittered within her lilac eyes, "Maybe I am dangerous, too." Years spent on the battlefield must pay off somehow - she was crippled now, yes, but that didn't mean the fight had left her. So she sat down beside him, a show that she wasn't intimidated by his words, and instead let out a breathy, yet quiet sigh. "I have to find something else to occupy myself with now... I'm walking a fine line into a type of life my mother would not be proud of," she was quiet for a moment as she bit her bottom lip, anxiety threatening her. "You just... walk around all day and all night, by yourself? Doesn't that get boring?" she asked, curious on what exactly he filled his time with. She was a hands-on kind of woman, and if that was the case then the rogue life wasn't for her. Her head tilted to the side as she turned to study him once again. There was a dark charm to the man that made her want to figure him out.

"We are all young and naive still."

code by claerie

He did not miss the amusement glimmering in her pale eyes and he had to wonder just what tickled her so. Did she think he was joking when he said he was dangerous? A part of him, somewhere deep and dark, wanted to show her but he had no succumbed to the monster in some time now and he'd like it to remain that way. He wasn't trying to intimidate her or frighten her but he did not wish to be brushed aside as harmless when he could very well snap at any moment. Still, she claimed to have bested someone before who was to say she could not best him. Dark ears flicked at the sound of her sigh, airy like the wind that gently brushed through the forest around them. "I have to find something else to occupy myself with now... I'm walking a fine line into a type of life my mother would not be proud of,"

"And what kind of life is that?"

He studied her curiously as she sat beside him, continuing on to ask what he did all day. "You think this is a normal day for me?" he asked, though she would be right to assume such a thing in this specific case.

A few moments passed as he contemplated what to say, mulling over the words in his mind before speaking them aloud. "I am not always alone but when I am I find ways to entertain myself." he said, his gaze dropping to his legs momentarily before reaching for her face again. "You look like you have spent too much time alone," he paused and reached towards her, his muzzle a hair's breath from her temple, "in here," he said, his voice low. Why else would she look the way she did? Was she trapped in her mind often like he was and did she need release like he did? He shifted back, if she did not do so before him.

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