Freedom?

[Baya]

“Yes! Am knowing Faith, am liking, she has the Mark, can help!” Eagerly Baya nodded then froze as the bird big one stood. For a tense trill she thought he might step on her or fall straight over, instead he started to cry.

“Oh,” Baya whispered, this bird big one was broken. He was…she couldn’t even think of a word, in soft Tree Talk, she found herself adopting the same tone she would for saplings who’d fallen out of trees. He looked part bird, who knew, maybe he would understand some of it, “It’s okay, we’ll take you to Faith or the Order, we can get you fixed.”

At least she thought they could. Her gaze strayed to the boat, putting together things she hadn’t thought of before. The shipwreck, the lack of talking, the fear around people. Had he been kidnapped too? Maybe by pirates like she had? For a bit she was going to ask, then she remembered he couldn’t talk, couldn’t draw either it seemed.

The Tunawa made to step foreword and offer him a pat on the foot to help console him but realized she was still tied to Stripe. Perfect. She gave the animal a little glare and found herself looking up at Pash.

“Is broken. Up here am thinking,” Baya gave a little tap to the side of her head to show where she thought he was broken, "Kali say getting Faith, am thinking we take him? Am no moving with Stripe, Stripe no wakes up. Bird big one needs medicine, hard do doctor things on beach. Bird big one needs blankets and…”

The Tunawa shrugged, she didn’t know really but he needed something warm probably. Looking to the strange big one Baya gave him a smile she wasn’t sure he could really see from way up there.

“Is okay. Is okay.” She mimicked the gesture he was making then scooted back until she was near Stripe, her hands beckoned with small shuffles, “Can walk?”

[Kali'rial]

Kali looked up with surprise and relief, watching intently as the creature finally moved, standing on shaky taloned legs and stepping out of the boat. He was frightened, deathly afraid by the looks of it, and hurt. Weak. Immortals, what had happened to the poor thing? As he extended a hand, in a mimicry of her previous action, the young Sev’ryn nodding and reaching out to him slowly with her tattooed hand, wishing to make contact. Tears had come to the creature now, and the sight was enough to move the brunette to touch him. To bring him close to her and comfort him. Her experience though with the slave from the Immortals Tongue meant that any small action might mean something much larger and much more distressful for the auburn haired thing.

Her fingertips were so close, she could almost brush his. Closer still, slowly as not to scare him off.

A loud whistle, followed by a familiar voice shouting out to her stopped Kali in her movements. She turned to look at Pash, a mixture of relief and mild shock on her features as she gripped his hand with hers, letting the other drop from the winged boy.

”Oh thank Moseke. Pash, yes. I think he’s been in a shipwreck. He’s…I don’t think he can talk, but he’s hurt and frightened.” Looking down at Baya, the huntress nodded with agreement.

”You’re right Baya. We need Faith. She’ll know what to do.” Turning back to the frightened bird-like boy, Kali offered him another encouraging smile.

”We’re going to help you, okay? You’re safe with us.” Looking back at Pash, the Sev’ryn squeezed his hand and spoke quietly to him. Not quite a whisper, but in a low voice as not to cause any further panic.

”If I go ahead and let Faith know we’re coming, can you please help Baya? We need to get him up to the Order….somehow.” Once the seafaring bard replied, Kali turned and jogged across the beach. Reaching the place where the docks met the sand she stepped into a loping run, making her way through the early morning streets of Scalvoris Town to head towards the Order Outpost. It was known that Faith could more often than not be found there, and silently the brunette prayed today was one of those days.

All but bursting through the open door of the outpost, Kali’rial came to a halt, attempting to show some respect whilst in the House of the Order. She looked around at those who might be in the room.

”Please, I need to urgently speak to Faith if she’s here.” The Sev’ryn huntress said as patiently as she could, glancing around for the familiar raven haired young woman.

[Faith Augustin]

The Order of the Adunih

The Order of the Adunih outpost in Scalvoris was, as always, busy. The medical facility had open doors to anyone who needed help and that meant that there was always someone, or something happening. Faith volunteered her time here and had done since she moved to Scalvoris. Each of the people there who were medics wore cloaks and, somehow, that was something which everyone recognised and respected. Even the most hardened pirate was respectful of an Adunih who was doing their rounds or visiting the sick.

As Kali'rial came in, she was greeted by a young lad in a green cloak and hat. Maybe 10 arcs old, but probably younger, he looked up at Kali and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm here," Faith's voice came from a room just off from the one Kali was in, as Faith walked through the door. Unlike the three people in this room (the boy included) Faith's cloak was blue, hooded and trimmed. The three in here were green, although most folks didn't know what that meant. "What's the matter?" Faith asked, because obviously something wasn't right.

When Kali told her, Faith nodded. "Squid, would you get room three ready, please? Dhatri," this was to an ithecal male who was in there, "please would you fetch a hypothermia kit? Thank you." As she asked those things, Faith was grabbing what looked, for all the world, to be a shopping bag and she smiled at Kali.

She considered going to meet them but she knew well enough to know, they'd probably end up missing each other in the streets, so she turned to Kali to get as much information as she could. "Tell me exactly what the injuries are?" She asked like she was asking what clothes they were wearing. Calm and friendly. "Any detail can be important." When they arrived, that way Faith was able to act as quickly as she could.

Somewhere along the line, the young boy put a cup of chamomile tea in Kali's hands with a smile. "For you, miss," he said, softly.

Off Topic

Hope that's ok? Don't want to go too far, but hope that gives everyone enough to work with? PM me if a problem!

[Mero]

He wished she hadn't left, but there was little he could do about it when the man arrived, the one thing Mero didn't want to see was another unfamiliar face, the man approaching from the same direction the woman had come from. People so many people and no bars to protect him from them. Yet when the man approached Mero cringed back momentarily recoiling from another presence but as he got close his frown softened, and tears slowed. For a moment he was less scared, maybe the Tattooed man really would come, letting a slow breath leave his heaving chest he decided to watch, and wait, even if he still didn't trust the new face, he wasn't sure that he was in danger. The woman at the very least seemed happy to see him, and he had decided to trust the woman.

However there were more pressing issues to be attended to, as the adrenaline that had previously fueled him began to leave him his legs became less like bone and more like jelly. Creeping to the ground he allowed himself to fall against the side of his boat and sit against it, now outside the boat, but hardly any further than that. His legs were weak, weaker than usual, even he was capable of walking about normally, but it was harder to tell if they were hurt, unlike the bare skin of his chest and arms, that were mottled with purple bruises, his legs were hidden beneath a veil of feathers.

Sitting down he glared as the woman left, he wasn't sure what she'd said to the man but he wasn't happy that she was leaving and even running in the other direction. Not wanting to look at the stranger he looked toward something familiar, the little wooden person. She was still saying words like broken and talking to the others, but he could tell that... she seemed worried, it was hard to tell since she was so tiny and her unfamiliar face was hard to read, but she'd even given him something. Pulling a smile over his thin dry lips he mimicked her motion tapping the side of his head. Before shaking his head. He didn't think his head was broken, the rest of him, he wasn't as sure about. One of his wings hurt, he's been on it when he'd woken up and it wasn't sitting properly against his back like it normally did. But his pain was tempered by fatigue.

Looking back to the man He could no longer see the tattooed woman he missed her already, the man didn't look too scary, but men were scarier than women.... and women.... were scarier than little flower people.... and little flower people weren't very scary. Locking his eyes on the man he furrowed his brow holding his leather pack to his chest and gingerly holding the flower the little person had given him in the other hand.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Kali explained what she could while Pash continued to look over the situation, her hand only briefly tangled with his for a squeeze, leaning closer to speak quietly, lest her words upset the boy, perhaps. He nodded at her plan, silently agreeing to figure something out, unsure of whether or not convincing the winged creature to go to town would at all be difficult. Then the Sev’ryn was off down the beach and headed quickly into town, leaving the three of them to come up with a plan together.

The boy looked as though he’d definitely been tossed about, that the shipwreck had left him bruised and battered, confused perhaps. His injuries may have been inside, invisible, and the seafaring minstrel knew that meant taking him to the Order was the safest bet. What concerned Pash was that there was no one else around, no sign of anyone else on board but the scrawny winged creature could surely not have sailed the vessel himself. The shipwright’s son was well aware of what it took to sail a ship, and judging by the size of the wreckage, this had not been a little dinghy.

He was afraid of him, that much Pash could see. Tears in the boy’s eyes and how he crawled away to focus on the tiny Tunawa, to quickly ignore the tall, loud Biqaj who’d inserted himself into the situation that perhaps Kali could have accomplished successfully on her own. Too late now.

Pash had grown up in a large family—the eldest of four himself and surrounded by cousins and friends—and he’d cared for children more than once in his life. It’d just been several arcs and while he wasn’t at all adversed to such things (in fact, had anyone bothered to ask him, he would admit to liking children and babies quite a bit, though much to his parents’ chagrin had yet to settle for any of his own), he was, one could say, a little out of practice. The first thing the seafaring minstrel did was squat down in the sand, bare feet curling toes into the wet stuff and lowering himself to a less intimidating height. He came down to the boy’s level somewhat, inked arms resting on his knees, but he didn’t crowd his space or come any closer, the winged creature clearly afraid as he hugged his pack and gripped the tiny flower Baya had obviously given him in peace.

“I’m sorry I scared y’ there.” Pash offered, the baritone of his voice quieter, gentler, calmer than expected of the musician, lagoon blue gaze briefly glancing at the Tunawa before turning his attentions back to the boy in hopes of getting even a glance or two of eye contact, “M’ name’s Pash an’ Kali an’ I ‘re friends. Really good friends. Baya an’ I ‘re friends, too. I’m here t’ help you, jus’ like they are, okay? We’re all afraid you’re hurt, an’ we’d like t’ make sure you’re alright. Can we—“

Maybe he was over-explaining again.

The seafaring minstrel smiled as gently and invitingly as possible when the boy finally looked at him, resisting the urge to reach for him to offer comfort because while Pash was very much driven by his sense of touch, it was likely the boy wasn’t quite ready for the kind of invasion of personal space the tall Biqaj was known for. Attempting to hold his attention, the Empath made a quick decision, feeling the urgency that had been in Kali’s voice about getting the boy some help, about getting him to the Order in case he was injured places none of them could see,

“—Did Baya give y’ a flower? She’s a pretty nice Tunawa, I must say. Didja know she could sing? Aye. Have y’ ever heard a Tunawa sing?” He peered with his magical sight as he spoke with a hushed, warm tone, wading into the winged creature’s emotional tangle, assuming the worst and pausing only briefly to steel himself mentally against what he worried would be a chaotic mess. Could any tangle compare to the chaos that had been Delta’s? He wasn’t sure it was possible, but still this time, he was desperate to be prepared. He sifted through the threads he found there, wading into the boy’s tapestry of feelings, seeking out fear and terror. Because he could see brief glimpses, hints in a way, of the source of those fears, Pash sought to not simply knot away the fear as he’d once done, but to literally cut the strong chords of those feelings, as one would use scissors to trim away fringes from newly woven cloth. Aware his window to gain trust and compliance was small given how emotions refreshed and the boy was clearly traumatized, he attempted to be thorough, watching the boy’s reactions,

“Would y’ like ’t if Baya sang us a song an’ we went for a little walk?” As if reaching to a stray dog, Pash gingerly held his arms out, calloused palms upward, still in the boy’s emotions, reaching through the mess of unfamiliar, difficult feelings, finally attempting to sew in some of his own calm, threads from his own tangle, in place of the fears he’d cut away, “I can carry you—jus’ in case you’re hurt—an’ we can listen t’ our lil’ Tunawa’s voice along th’ way. What d’ y’ say?”

Regardless of the boy’s reactions, Pash would invite Baya up over his inked, tanned arm and onto a shoulder, perhaps to let the winged creature see the truth behind his intentions. Then, he’d offer with a smile to let the boy come to him, bag and all, so he could lift him up and carry him in whatever way seemed the most comfortable. He’d wait, aware that his plan may not work at all and that more desperate measures would have to be taken. His tide pool gaze had not missed that the creature had talons instead of normal toes, feathers and such totally outside of the tall Biqaj’s normal experience with children of any age.

Off Topic

Would it be easier for everyone and the flow of this thread if Mero reacted and we went from there? I figured I'd just dive right in and do the thing with the stuff and the magic so you know ... there it is.

Mero, feel free to let me know what Pash sees and react as you see fit. This is what Pash is attempting to do, but he doesn’t have to be entirely successful, depending on Mero’s emotional state. Like I mentioned, he’s attempting two things: 1) to literally cut threads of fear so that they take a while to come back (cutting is not permanent), and 2) to actually tie in Pash’s own feelings of calm in hopes of getting Mero to be more … compliant? Trusting? something. Hahahaha. One of those things.

[Mero]

The man was… kinder than Mero had expected, kinder than was normal, even the Tattooed woman seemed normal in comparison to the strange kindness the man seemed to exude. It was odd, but he felt like the man really could be trusted, he even had Tattoos. That said they weren’t the same as the woman’s or the Tattooed man he knew. Listening to the man as he crouched before him he silently observed, letting the man speak. He said a lot, even told him that his name was Pash, and that he was friend with the Tattooed lady… called…. Kali? He said he had come to help, but it was just hard to believe people were able to be so kind, most people Mero knew were bad! People were almost always bad, he reminded himself, chiding himself for wanting to trust these people, he couldn’t allow himself to just relax. But the man was being so nice…..

The he went to talking about the little one, something about the way the man talked… it was friendly like when the man was talking he was laying the words that everything was ok under what he was saying He called the little one Baya… he said she could sing… Singing was something that Mero also knew about, the crew used to sing songs about sailing and things like that, it always seemed really fun, all the voices in unison being happy, one of the few things that made him wish he had a voice.

So when the man finished talking finally and asked him if he wanted to hear the little one sing, he nodded slowly, he didn’t trust the man yet, but he felt like he was safe for now at least, and he wanted to hear the little on sing. So he relaxed setting his bag down beside him, but still keeping the flower in his other hand. His tears had finally stopped as his breathing slowed. He was sad, he could feel that much, that tattooed man wasn’t coming he didn’t think, he didn’t know where he was. But there were other nice people here… they said they wanted to help him… and… he decided that he wanted help. So he accepted the offer.

[Pash Raj'oriq]

Pash had never found himself in the tangle of someone so young, though he was unsure of the exact age of the winged creature, perhaps his somewhat emaciated, battered condition made him appear even younger. Or older. Or just confusing either way. As he wove among the boy’s tangle, his tide pool gaze watched his reactions, patiently waiting with his hands outstretched.

Dark eyes darted to follow Baya and the boy nodded. The tall Biqaj could feel and see him relax, watching him set his bag down, which he in turn reached for to slip over his opposite shoulder without the Tunawa so as not to leave behind on the beach for scavengers of the more humanoid kind to find. Not that he had any idea if anything valuable was in it, but it meant enough to the boy and Pash wasn’t about to let his meager belongings get stolen while they were in town. It wouldn’t take long for curious folks to stumble across the shipwreck, hoping for whatever loot they could find.

His smile softened and the boy leaned toward his reach, allowing Pash to attempt to figure out how to pick him up. The creature was boy-shaped, lighter than he should have been because upon closer examination he may have been underfed. Skin and bones and feathers. The wings, though, they were … awkward. The seafaring minstrel had never held a bird or carried anything with wings. It took him a few moments, kneeling there on the wet sand near the surf, to figure out the best position to cradle the youth in such a way that didn’t get a wing in his face or a talon in his ribs, that didn’t make it awkward to see as well as walk. Once he had it all sorted, once he narrowly missed knocking Baya from his shoulder and sending a flurry of unkempt feathers onto the sand, he hefted the boy—who, again, was far lighter than he assumed and this worried him—and stood.

“O’aye, that’s a boy. Let’s get outta this mess to-trial. A’right, then. Jus’ a bit ‘f a walk into town an’ you’ll see m’lady Kali again an’ maybe our nice doctor friend, Faith, eh? She’s a sweet one, I promise. Maybe there’ll be some food an’ somethin’ warm t’ drink while we’re at it. I bet you’d like that too.” Pash kept his tone calm, persuasive, and kind even as he carefully unraveled his connection from the boy’s emotional tangle, though not completely, wanting to keep some kind of watch over his feelings lest the winged creature become startled and maul his unprotected tanned skin with the claws on his feet,

“So, let’s have a lil’ listen to what Baya has for us while we walk, aye?”

He’d carry the pair up the beach and towards town, somewhat disappointed that he’d left his sandals and his shirt and even his vest on his sloop because he hadn’t been planning on this sort of morning. Still, he endured the discomfort of dirty, sharp cobblestone and all sorts of town mess, careful to pick the quieter, less busy side streets and alleys, thankful for the early break it was in the trial so that there weren’t many people up and about save for farmers and merchants and vendors and shop folk on their way to their businesses. He may have received a few odd glances, carrying a winged boy while a Tunawa sang and chattered on his shoulder. Even a few of the city patrol cast some wary, suspicious glances at the half-dressed tall Biqaj and his unusual menagerie, though Pash attempted to avoid their more obvious walks through the town by taking the alleys he’d learned while finding new routes to Cally’s every trial just for fun.

So long as the boy wasn’t spooked, didn’t struggle, didn’t attempt to escape, the trio would arrive in relative safety to the Order, though the route had been slower than Kali’rial’s and thus it left her quite some time to sip tea while Faith made her preparations with other Order members. Well, even if there was struggle along the way, they’d still arrive, the seafaring minstrel determined to get them to their destination in as close to one piece as possible regardless.

Pash, hands full of feathers and scrawny youth, was thankful there were people about, coming and going, so that when someone saw his approach, he didn’t have to attempt to juggle a body in order to open a door,

“We’re here for Faith—she’s expectin’ us, I hope. Kali’rial should ‘ve said we’d be comin’.” The tall Biqaj would tell whoever greeted him, making sure he held the winged boy carefully lest the movement into an area with quite a few more, busy people scared him, still somewhat aware of the boy’s feelings through their contact and his magical concentration. He would at least endure until the boy was handed off, attempting to keep from losing himself as he had before by focusing on the strong, woven threads of his own feelings—specifically the ones he felt for Kali and felt for his friends he’d made on the island in order to keep from being overwhelmed by the winged boy’s emotions instead. It was difficult to continue, his mind tired of the assault of emotions that weren’t his own, feelings that weren’t quite as traumatizing as those he’d experienced on the Immortal’s Tongue but still harsh and messy.

Off Topic

Here, I’ve sort of moved us along. Baya has plenty of room to react—I hope I didn’t get too carried away with assumptions, so please discipline me properly if I did. I tried to leave it as open as possible while still getting us off the beach … I figured it would be somewhat safe to assume that she’d not want to be left on the beach and her songs are adorable so surely she’d volunteer a few for the walk. I’m happy to edit. Forgiveness instead of permission. Harrrr.

Other than that, Mero, if you feel like freaking out, don’t hesitate to do so along the way. I will deal. What’s a bit of blood spilt between new friends?

Here we are.

[Kali'rial]

Smiling at Faith with relief, Kali nodded, twisting her hands as she did when she was anxious. The younger woman always seemed to make those around her calm with her logic and her discipline, something which the Sev’ryn felt she had lost in her time on the island. Not necessarily a bad thing, but she was not the same woman she had been in Ashan.

“I’m not sure about his injuries to be completely honest. Some battering, bruising. A few cuts and scrapes. It’s something else.” Taking the tea from the young boy, the brunette gave him a thankful smile before sipping it with a sigh. Her smile faded, and she frowned then, trying to think of the words to describe the scene on the beach.

“Faith, there’s something wrong with his voice, I think. He seems to understand Common but he can’t speak. Or won’t.” Pausing, she looked distant, as though a thought had come to her. Refocusing on the silvery gaze of the healer, Kali continued.

“Baya thinks somethings broken inside, in his head. But I don’t think it is. His actions, his fear…he reminds me of the girl I met on Immortals Tongue. The…slave” Her frown deepened, not saying it, but indicating she had a suspicion that the boy might be cut from the same tattered cloth. Sipping the tea again, her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, and another thing. He has wings, and feathers. Like he’s half bird. And he’s afraid, Moseke’s light bless him, he is deathly afraid. Of us.” Turning at the sound of a familiar voice, Kali’rial smiled at the Biqaj, both surprised and also not at the fact he’d carried the young creature into the Order. Pash was not one to beat around the bush. Hopefully there hadn't been too much distress along the way.

“Pash, thank you for bringing him.” Looking at the creature, Kali smiled and moved closer, reaching out to squeeze the Biqaj’s shoulder before tentatively stroking the boy’s upper arm with a feather light touch.

“I told you we’re going to help you, and that we you’re safe with us, and I meant it. This is Faith, she’s a friend and a good person.” The brunette moved aside a little to let Faith take the floor, feeling somewhat protective of the shipwrecked boy. Looking at Baya, the huntress smiled, thanking her as well for everything so far.

[Faith Augustin]

He didn't speak, or couldn't. He had wings and Kali'rial thought he was a slave. "Avriel. They come from the slave city, Athart," Faith said, quietly. "It would be unusual for an avriel to be enslaved, though. We'll see. That's useful information, thank you." When she was at Cally's Faith was very business-like, focused on the job and making sure that the customer got the best. She was always friendly, always passionate about what she was doing and she was very focused on why Cally's was there. Help people was what she did, but as they brought Mero in, Faith's eyes shone with compassion.

Her voice was low and she gave a gentle smile. "Hello, my name's Faith. You must be afraid, but it's alright. We're here to help," she motioned to Pash where to put him down and she spoke to Mero only, "I'm a medic. I heal people. I'll help you. I'm just going to examine you, alright?"

Calm, efficient, careful. That was what Faith was. As she moved to examine Mero, she spoke in the same calm tone. "There's a glass of water on the treatment table. Someone just help him, please? Small sips. If he can't take it, then just wet his lips." He was certainly dehydrated, Faith thought, and she got to work.

"Alright, you've taken quite a battering, haven't you?" She was applying a soothing analgesic salve which stopped the pain. "This wing is bruised, but nothing's broken." Her examination led her to a number of conclusions. She couldn't see any slave brands, but this boy, for boy he was, was not a full avriel. In Athart, if that was where he had been, then he would be considered an abomination. He was dehydrated and half starved and he was terrified. Truly terrified.

"I'm just going to make this cut better, alright?" It was on a joint with his wing and it looked like it was very painful. The soreness should be leaving him now, as the analgesic took effect, but that cut was in the most awkward place possible. "Just stay still for me, please. Thank you," Standing, Faith lowered her head in prayer for a moment, speaking to Moseke and asking for the Immortal's help in healing this injured soul. She concentrated and then, put her hand just over the wound. The tips of Faith's fingers had a strange green mist on them, which was almost like a light, but when she touched the wound, it healed.

Faith did her best not to show just how much doing that took out of her, because she'd had to use the ability a few times to make it happen sufficiently, but her already pale skin paled a little further. "That should make it feel better."

Looking at the half- Avriel, Faith spoke softly. "I'd like you to stay here for a trial or two, so that we can keep an eye on your. You're dehydrated and need to be looked after." She included Kali, Pash and Baya in her glance. "Then, we can look at something more long term, once we find out more?"

The more she lived, the more confidence the former slave had, the more Faith was determined that she was going to end slavery. Once and for all.

[Mero]

It was strange, it was all so strange, he wasn’t sure how to feel. He didn’t like people he was so sure of that fact, almost all people were terrible creatures, he didn’t want to be around them the tattooed man was the exception, not the rule. Yet… he didn’t feel scared like his fear had run away, some part of his mind told him he should be wary, but what he thought it felt had ceased to match up, maybe that should’ve made him even more concerned, but between fatigue and soreness, he was happy to simply accept the moment, he didn’t have the power to change it anyway.

Thus when the man picked him up he just tried not to get in his way, the man said he was helping, and he didn’t seem to be a bad person, he didn’t smell of alcohol and he even had tattoos. The walk was for the most part uneventful, or at least uneventful for everyone other than the boy. Wide eyed he looked around as the man carried him. The entirety of his memories only of life on the sea, seeing these building and streets and alleys and other people walking about was just so strange. People would pause and look at him sometimes and he’d gazed back slowly becoming unnerved by the presence of so many strangers. Even with those that had tormented him aboard the ship, they were at least consistant. But here new faces everywhere, and no tattooed man.

By the time the journey ended and they arrived at their destantion he was perpetually quaking with fear, too many people too many faces, too many curious gazes and glaring, when at last they were insaide the boy had screwed his eyes shut unwilling to meet the gazes of other people even the tiny person’s comforting presence was not enough to penetrate the slow egress of fear reclaiming him. He could hear the people around him talking, but there words were lost on him, even the comforting touch on his arm did little to sooth his fevered panic. The he felt hands on him again, they touched his bruied fleash and his first response was to weakly recoil from there presence, but then he felt it…. Relief… still unwilling to open his eyes he surrendered himself to the hands that brought relief. It was an utterly new and unique feeling, but certainly not unpleasant. The she spoke and some of her words sank through, “stay still the voice said” was this the voice that belonged to the hands that brought relief? Desiding that it was, he tried to comply even as his wing protested painfully at being touched. The he felt it, it wasn’t like the other relief, if anything it was slightly less pleasant, he could feel his skin crawling. It itched, it didn’t hurt, but it itched like crazy, gritting his teeth and arching his back in portect at the strange sensations of his flesh mending he did his best to whether to the storm of sensations.

Then it was over.

Pulling his knees to his chest, he was amazed to find that he hurt much less than he had, not that he felt great, but better. The slowly he opened his eyes to greet the small myriad of faces that looked back at him. Hiding behind his feathery knees he looked out unsure of what to do. The tattooed woman was there, so was the man, and then he saw the newest face, a dark haired woman who looked kind, if… a little… seasick? But she must be the lady, the one with the hands that made him feel better. These were good people…. Like the tattooed man, right?

Unable to speak, unsure of what to do he waited, he wished he had bars in front of him, then he could just sit and do nothing. But without the bars he was uncomfortable, this imposed freedom was scary, and he didn’t know what to do about it, so he held onto the small flower he’d been given and watched each of the others. He was still nervous and he could feel the tell tale tremors that played through his muscles as the fear and adrenaline ran it’s course. He wanted the tattooed man, but these people were what he’d gotten… though maybe… that was ok?