dance with fate

Steadying sigh fled the mottled one’s lungs as he attempted to ready himself for the task at hand. It was nothing major just a simple patrol as practice in keeping watch for unlawful acts and yet anxieties still stirred over being asked to traverse these cobbles. Even worse, one wished for him to engage with any suspected of wrong doing! It would do a soul good they proclaimed, prepare him for what lie in store once his training was complete… but the boy lacked ambition. The army hardly something Edmond wished to be a part of - so even now he did the bare minimum despite knowing how eyes of his superior no doubt lingered upon him.

Assurance that he would keep to the prepared course. Yet he paid little mind to those who traversed these paths alongside him as a crown ducked, mismatched gaze rarely rising to behold any who passed him by lest their voices rose in familiar scolding tones. Whether they lay issued toward he or another however remained a mystery; one he was unwilling to solve as a trail merely shifted away from the unknown. It wasn’t like they were doing anything wrong with yelling and when it came down to it the speckled hound did not wish to be perceived.

That gangly frame weaving between souls just as lost for the sooner he made it back to the rendezvous point, the sooner he could proclaim this mission as ‘complete’ - even if his Lieutenant would disagree with such a statement. There were always other days to please, to ensure that he was not the failure a father foresaw him as without the rigorous guidance provided within the militia. It was all so, so… a thought he was unable to finish as swiftly focus fell outward as a sudden jolt coursed through his hide. Once careful step faltering as it took everything in his power to subdue the frantic urge to leap out of his skin upon the sudden thunk that had fallen against him.

Wild eyes drawn to a crumbled heap of feathers upon the pavement. Ears preening back as a mix of curiosity and concern brought eyes to linger, a menagerie of colors bleeding against one another in dazzling display. Though with it came worry that perhaps the creature had been far more hurt by its fall than just the quickening of a panicked heart as he suffered. No matter how he wished to help though, Edmond knew next to nothing over caring for birds. Such fragile little creatures they were, stirring fear that he may only hurt it further. Yet such fretting did not stop the way a nose ducked to nudge at it, hope lingering that it was merely missing a few feathers rather than laying plagued with anything more serious.

(This post was last modified: 03-11-2024, 02:04 PM by Edmond.)

Her gaze, mismatched as it was, was unfocused. Nothing seemed to quite ignite a spark or even the barest hint of recognition. A bear could have been charging at her and she would have simply stared, gaze half-lidded, numb to the danger of it. Or at least, that seemed to be the state she was in lately. It was hard to breathe more life into her days when death seemed to be lurking around every corner. First her mother. Lyra's heart constricted sharply and her neutral expression turned down into a frown. Her mother that she hadn't gotten the opportunity to truly reconcile with. She liked to think that Nassar had died knowing that Lyra's grudges would have been short-lived, military entrance or no. But she'd never know now. It had all ended on a sour note and the taste now lingered on her tongue. Even her father was a mere shadow of himself, a ghost. It was as if he had died too. ... and now my brother. Lyra had never been close to him. He had been returned to the family soon after she had been born but their difference in age had made it difficult to connect. In some ways, it had been nice because he hadn't been expected to have any memories of her. In other ways, it made their bond almost unimportant by comparison—there was so much he was forgetting with the others. He'd had years of catch up to play. For that she didn't fault him—she would have done the same if she'd been in his fur. But where there were two deaths there were now four ghosts: Nassar, Kvothe, Ahkoris, and Sybil all. There are some wounds I cannot heal. That awareness wrankled her, slicing through her as sharply as the cold wind. So lost in thought, Lyra didn't notice her barn owl suddenly start angling lower toward the ground. Her wings were spread wide, silently gliding over the stone and earth, until a sudden cry split the air. That caused her to look up, eyes widening as she saw a dove in Knight's talons. Her mouth fell open as she stared, heart thundering in her chest, before she found her words. “Stop! No, please!" Lyra's voice came out loud and forcefully and was shrill enough to cause her owl to release the dove. Its little body plummeted to the ground—but not before knocking sharply against a stranger's mottled coat. How had she missed it before? If not for the blood so plainly visible upon the dove's feathers, Lyra would have simply stared at him instead. But, alas, now was not the time for gawking. “Oh dear, I am sorry," she gasped, feeling heat spread over her cheeks. Scampering forward, she stared down at the dove with wide, apologetic eyes. They narrowed only when she glared over her shoulder at the culprit. “We need..." what? I don't know, I've never applied first aid to a bird... Her voice faded away as she realized she had no idea what to do for birds. She barely knew what to do for wolves. ... “You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."

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So lost was he that barely had one captured the way another shrieked. Everything had happened so suddenly and set alarm bells ringing, a mind on high alert as the hound’s heart fluttered upon a hummingbird beat. What was he supposed to do? What could he do in a situation like this? Questions that could never be answered when he felt frozen in time like this. Half-toned gaze fixated upon the fragile creature now splayed against the earth, unable to tear his eyes away from the way feathers fanned.

How they loosened and scattered about a twisting hide though merely staring at the stained beasted would provide no aid. Something had to be done or rather he at least needed to try. Edmond nearly thought to scoop the bird delicately into his jaws, whisk it away to a superior’s meet up point as if he may hold the answers sought but all action lay halted as far more delicate phrase broke through the fog threatening to cloud thoughts. His nose barely brushing to soft plumage before jerking back just as suddenly, swiftly righting himself as focus whirled to face the unknown in a new found panic.

A heart leaping in his chest as a mouth hung agape, attentions flickering and dancing over one who bore a monochromatic pelt with a sharp blaze cutting through it. Though far more captivating where the soft worrisome hues which peered out to greet not he but rather the dove each seemed so desperate to attend to in their own ways. No matter how each also faltered in such acts. Ears lightly preened toward his skull as ever fluttering anxieties encircled him, nerves swallowed back in the presence of one entirely unknown.

If she was here to help he had to at least give her that chance. The uncertainty, the hesitance in her voice one he attempted to ignore as he clung to the hopes that perhaps she were just as frazzled as he when coming upon the scene. Attempting to steady himself a slow breath was taken through his nose and released the moment before lyrics chased after it, “To stop the bleeding?” It was only logical though could pressure be applied to an avian in the same way? That he didn’t know. In glimpses through his mother’s library he vaguely recalled mentions of clotting powders though the word for it escaped him.

Even if it could be remembered it wasn’t like he carried such a thing on him and there lingered doubt that some random wolfess did either. Maybe she knew the word for it though? If they put their heads together maybe something could be done. “Pressure? Medical powders? Bandages?” Questions rattled off as he began to lose focus on reality, fretting becoming both an internal and external struggle. Trying not to trip over his own tongue or stammer, “Would any of those work on a, on a b-bird?”

“To stop the bleeding?” Lyra jumped as if seeing the young man for the first time—and in many ways, she was. Despite the intensity of his mottled coat, she had been lost within her own world. Where he was a palette of earthy colors, her mind had been one of sorrow, uncertainty, and loss. It was no wonder that the latter had gripped her more firmly. But, with her owl preening blood from its talons in a corner and its victim on the ground, she was shaken back into reality. She blinked once, orange-blue eyes connecting the dots between his face, his words, and their meaning. “We'd crush it, wouldn't we?" Her voice was soft as she looked back down at the little thing. But wasn't it just going to die anyway? Ginger ears flicked at the mention of pressure, powders, and banadages. “A bone saw?" she queried, before the ghost of a smile appeared upon her lips. In some ways, it was helpful to mention everything that existed under the sun. That didn't stop it from being comical though. “Do you trust yourself not to press too hard? If so you can cover the wounds while I scrounge up some..." her brow furrowed before she decided to stop second guessing herself. “... moss. Wolf medicine will just have to do." ... “You seemed to replace your brain with your heart ."

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