Run. Just keep running. Don’t look back.
Run faster – faster. Faster! Keep running!
She can’t hear anything except for the sound of her heart pounding like an enraged caged bird in a rampant search of an escape. The anxious heave of her breath as lungs strained to breathe or the thrum of the earth. She felt numb with the adrenaline coursing through her out of the pure horror riddling her nerves. Her vision is blurred by the onslaught of tears streaming down her face. Just keep running, don’t stop Solana—you have to get away! These words play like a broken record, trapped on repeat. Trapped. She’d been trapped. The room was insufferably small, and it felt as though she’d been suffocating.
She’d been tortured and for what -- she didn’t know – wasn’t aware of as she never privies herself to mingle in political affairs. So.. why? All she wanted to do was to help people where it was needed. The very family she had been aiding in recent days had been broken into rends. Those screams. Those blood-curdling screams that echoed in a dying fade and that wretched stench branded her senses to the point where it was near maddening. Humans killing humans and yet she was deemed the monster?
Solana couldn’t recall where she was running too or how even managed to escape. Her clothes were in rends, desperately trying to adjust her cloak to shield her breasts and the acidic-eaten ruined blouse. Her face bloodied from the force of the strangers elbow and the acidic burn blistering her lip. The side of her neck to her shoulder, her chest, back, and thighs just above her knees were burning with acid. Dirt and debris were shoved, leaving bruising marks on her neck and thighs. Infection brought forth swelling and rancid pus. Hide… I need to hide— Nearly forgotten of her broken state, fear consumed reason. Legs eventually give in, unable to go any further, collapsing.
Teal sights struggled to make out her exact location but the frost-laden trees, snow blanketing the carcass remnants of what may have been autumn - maybe the smallest sliver of spring perhaps budding through in tiny sprigs? It was hard to say.
Ajax had done what he could with this affliction before bindings were set in place to keep all from seeping through adorned fabrics. However, it was clear he needed another’s touch for both he and the vampiric held a distinct disadvantage with the very material which had carved such a path. Magic alone only able to grant so much relief against the reverberating pants of silver as it gnawed against flesh and fraying nerves. An electric pain coursing with each motion taken and while the goat hardly wished to disturb the witch’s peace he could think of no other option. No being other than she that would keep this discreet.
One such as she held no reason to inform any other over treatment… even if she may hold it over his head for gained favor. Sway him into assisting with one of her schemes as if he weren’t already willing to play along with a mere beckons. The only troublesome part about this was just how far she dwelt from the noise of the city. Regret sinking in with each jolt echoing against the entirety of his arm. Perhaps he should have borrowed a horse, taken to a form that could move swiftly even with the hindrance of a faulty limb, and yet steadied pace guided him down known path. Trails taken so many times before that a mind was allowed to wander.
Until something horrendous assaulted the senses and drug him back to reality. Unmarked limb rising to shield features with the veil of fabrics though it was never truly enough to blot out the truth. It smelt as if a corpse haunted these woods. Not that such a discovery would be surprising if the actions of others were anything to go off of. For what better place to dump a body than out of sight? Keep it from the minds of others by hiding it along trails others were not keen to travel lest they be fools like he… but senses had not betrayed him yet.
Mind foolishly clinging to nothing more than vain hopes that such a stench wafted from a more animalistic hide, something that could not be labeled as human. Yet no matter how the goat wished to ignore it, traces of wolf tinted the air. Haunting notion only growing stronger that this radiated from one far more human in nature. And if that were the case Augustus held no intentions of sticking around. There was no reason to involve himself in this, no reason to risk getting tangled up in a mess he was not prepared to handle on his own. For all he knew whatever had brought the dead here still lingered.
Find a way to avoid it. Get to the witch’s domicile unscathed or rather unmarked by anything new. Ears turned flat against his skull as senses remained on high alert… just keep following the known path and get the hell out of here.
Task easier said than done for it seemed the plague of rot permeated the area. Twisted aromas that even a human could have attuned to with their dulled senses. Rot, infection, each desperately clinging to the stench of old iron with something unidentifiable festering against flesh. Whatever it was left an acrid taste in his mouth just catching the scent of it but what exactly it was he could not be certain. Question he did not want answered but signs of splintered branches and crushed vegetation foretold a fate before a body ever came into view.
Unease crept up his spine though did not halt his steps as fingers coiled against weaponry. The sharpness of elongated blade used to part the way ahead. If anything lunged forth that would be what greeted the unknown.
However, no beast leapt from the shadows. No crunch of footsteps filled his ears and nothing could stand out against the putrid perfumes which wafted from what lie ahead. With merely a glance at all which marred flesh there was near certainty she did not live. Whatever had occurred here needed to be reported. The proper authorities needed to get involved for what could be beheld by senses alone, this was not the sear of magic which marked her skin but substance. One he had never personally encountered so could not place through scent alone.
Glancing of landmark, one lay set in mind, it would be easy enough to guide those of the armed guard back here. But he would not disturb the scene, steps turning to leave until rasped breath slowly reached him. Shallow as it was, it was still present and beckoned his gaze to the unsteady rise and fall of frame. Leaving now - even to find one more qualified - would be sentencing her to death though there was little help he could provide. Knowledge extremely limited in regards of healing. Only passing glances taken into herbology and medicine at a mother’s behest, insistence he at least knew of the concoctions sold within her shop. All on the off chance he ever tended it in her place.
But he doubted that would help him here. It would be stupid to ask if she could stand when she lay sprawled against the crisp blanket of snow, unmoving… and yet he was not going to touch her. There was no telling if what ate away at her still lingered. Maybe if he could just get her up, without touch, then maybe he could get her to the witch’s dwellings at his side. Evanora would not be pleased with the addition but - other than leave this woman to rot - what else was he to do?
Keeping the shield of a sleeve over his features a voice would call out, a gentle rap of a pole arm to the earth alongside her crown signaling his presence. “Hey lady! Can you hear me?” He wasn’t exactly hopefully over getting an answer though at this point even a more noticeable shift in that battered hide would be enough. Sign that this was not a death rattle stealing away her final breath.
A cold sweat had long since broken out as trepidation beaded her temples. Her heart drummed like the sound of large marching bass drum, though struggling and anxious. Her breathing was slowed and labored – just as besieged. Her head was pounding like a sledgehammer to concrete. One arm stretched and bloodied hands dug into the cold soils desperately trying to continue forward. A pained, growling grunt bubbled her throat feeling that sharp, aching strain while body only managed to slide just barely a few inches.
The acidic burns that marred her flesh were not healing as rapidly as she’d hoped – as though there was something that kept from her wounds to heal. Bound to the solitary chair that restricted her movement, Solana at the time could not see what concoction that was deliberately poured down her chest and into her lap. Not before having it tauntingly placed against her lip where a sliver of a blistered forming scar. There was an urge to shift into the feral beast of the wild, four legs could move faster than two with enhanced speed. But she couldn’t in the weakened state she was in.
Pointed ears twitched, capturing the sound of crunching snow. Footsteps. Dread consumed her like a crashing tidal wave swallowing a coastal civilization with relentless force. Her conscious was beginning to teeter in and out. She couldn’t go back – to where not even she knew as all she could recollect were concrete walls, the stench of blood and bone-chilling screams. Bare minimum lighting in an otherwise windowless room.
Closer, closer and closer did those steps near. She could not muster the strength to growl in defensive nature to steer any potential threat though in truth, given her state she could not detect the actual proximity of such possible dangers until a single thud clicked against the earth next to her and hesitant inquiry. Fine threads of adrenaline snapped as one hand sought to grip the end of the pole then as if that was her perpetrator. Dulled, half lidded eyes struggled to remain over as darkness ever so slowly forcefully crept along her vision. “I— I will not go back.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat dried as words strained her vocals. It was all she could muster which was all that was left of her strength and eyes disappearing behind the purple of her eyelids.
The surge of panic, that foreboding sensation of her terror crept against the very air to coil like a serpent against the senses. A strangulation that refused to relent as he looked to the way fingers appeared to carve trenches in the snow. So she was alive… even if just barely. It meant there was still a chance to prosper, for the life which drained from her features to return. Yet whatever caused this situation to arise was hardly something he wished to be involved in. Surely some syndicate or cult could be involved and those were matters he’d rather not be tangled up in.
Steadying breath fled his lungs though before anything more could be said those digits sprang to life, gripping at the cold metal of a glaive, barely missing the sharpness of a blade as they sought out the thinning decorations against that pole. Action brought him to tense, to gently tug up on weaponry in hopes to pull it from that weakened grasp though whether he found success mattered little. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to wrench it from his own hold though neither could he let one so battered risk severing her own limb with a careless motion.
“I’m not taking you anywhere,” he didn’t even know where back was for her and he held no intention of finding out. Wherever it was, it was clearly not a fate any deserved. The marring substance that ate away and flesh and clothing alike was more than enough sign of that. Mistreatment, potentially a targeted attack with the malice behind it. Tongue clicked in his indecision, a silent debate held with none but himself over the matter at hand. While there was an undeniable urge to help there also wasn’t much he could do for her alone and the goat wasn’t keen on getting whatever material coated her hide onto his own.
For even if he did manage to bring a stranger to the witch’s door it would mean coaxing her to mend two marred by an unknown concoction. She already wouldn’t be pleased with additional company. Especially one in such bad shape. Consciousness short lived as those rasped tones swiftly fell quiet and eyelids slipped closed to mask the severely dulled light that may have once shone behind them.
Rancid stench made his head swim the longer he lingered by this near corpse. Rot, infection, stale blood… it all tainted her. It gave little hope that flesh could be mended. He carried no herbs, no medicinal concoctions, this was supposed to be a fairly routine trip even if the purpose was not the thrill of vampiric party infiltrations or the glimmer of new materials to suit the woman’s fascinations. No, this was to be a matter of work. Of ensuring no fragments of silver continued to eat away at flesh and nerves. The sharp pang which reverberated upon frayed nerves a constant reminder of what Ajax could not mend, a rarity that he would even think to bother the witch with such matters.
Without another word any drawn breath lay held, weight sinking against the brace of weaponry as a partial decision lay made. A canister unfastened from what little belongings he did carry, stopper removed before it was pressed lightly to the very fingers which once coiled against a pole. Waiting to see if she would take it and drink what could be offered. It wasn’t much but perhaps it would at least soothe the harshness in her throat, steal away the scratched dry tones that plagued each lyric. That is… if she could even consume it on her own.
If this presence sought to drag her back to that enclosed space of hell, Solana knew then that it would be the final moments of what brief period of freedom she had managed thus far. This was a new low for her. Grasping on to some thread of invisible thread of impossible hope of survival that still felt to far of a reach. Her body was struggling to heal itself. If the lycan inside was healing at all, it was a painfully slow process. Almost as if there was some sort of resistance there. Whatever acidic compound that ate away was warring against those speedy healing properties. There would be little effort to be made as the weapon was pulled from her feeble grasp. Slender bruised digits practically melted against the soils, otherwise unmoving save for the slowed rise and fall of staggering breath.
I’m not taking you anywhere. The voice came like a distant echo coming and going like the rise and fall of rolling waves. It was difficult to discern whether he meant in the literal sense or if this stranger had no intentions to return her to the earth-bound hell. Back to some underground cave where no sound echoed – and the screams of the tortured souls went unheard. The chilly ground was far more comfortable than the hard concrete, so much so that Solana could have shed a tear if she had the tears to shed them.
She was struggling to retain her conscious. Fear that if she were to close her eyes – not so much the fear of them not opening, but the fear of them reopening and she would find herself back chained and bound to those prison-like cage again like some beast or of worse consequence that could have only provoked further damage from the acidic silver that currently still burned her unusual colored flesh.
Hardly an audible gasp did manage to escape her lungs when fingertips were met with the chilled canister. Water from what her senses could barely grasp. There was nothing malicious or toxic about it – that all that the contents held was just basic water. A firm reminder that she had no nourishment in the however many days it had been since. Pained groan rasped from her throat while searching for whatever sliver of energy she had in her to at least sit up right despite her clothes in utter rends. Just enough to drink even a droplet of the water provided.
Still, she was hesitant with the stranger – daring not to keep her guard lowered any further. Sitting upright, or making the effort to, was a challenge on its own and yet managed after a few failed attempts before she would cautiously retrieve the canister. Her hands trembled, and with it the canister filled with water in the evident struggle. “S-…sorry.”
All the goat could do was watch as that body seemed to crumple ever further upon itself. Take in the putrid scents that churned his stomach with each waft that dared to fill the senses. It was revolting. It was something he wanted desperately to move away from. Instinct beckoning him to simply leave, to avoid enduring nauseating aromas and whatever affliction may come with it… and yet he couldn’t. This wasn’t just some wild animal that could easily be cast aside but rather a woman. A stranger, a wolf, but still a person who bore such grievous inflictions. One that very clearly needed assistance.
Something he could not provide alone but there were small aids that could be granted. Perhaps vain attempts to bring a battered hide to stir without gaining the sear of what ate away at her. Though it seemed a mere drink may be enough - if barely - for one to fight the protests of worn skin and muscle. A rasping hiss escaping her as marred tissues twisted with each forceful motion. Action stirring that sickening stench to rise a new, an assault to the senses that bid a frown to etch further over his lips. Rosen gaze drifting to where the ‘perfume’ of rot and infection lingered hoping to assess whatever damages could be seen, no matter where they may lie.
What could be done for all this? Even a combination of treatments led a mind to doubt recovery. Magic would have to be in sessions, herbal remedies only able to grant passing reprieve from the ways her very flesh seemed to fester. How it melted and bubbled beneath an unknown substance.
Faint yet stricken mark upon her lip, streaks leaking to cloak the entirety of her throat to eat away at her neck before trailing over the central structures of her chest. While August could not behold bone there was uncertainty on how long there was until infection may bleed so deeply. No way of knowing when flesh itself would be devoured and expose more than rent muscle. Who had done this? Or perhaps more importantly why? He swallowed back disgust as lyrics bid focus back toward that weakened visage.
Near silent breath escaping his lips before limbs folded easily beneath him, weight no longer perched upon weaponry but the chilled earth. Guards over his legs a barrier between himself and the biting cold, “What do you have to be sorry for?” As far as he knew she’d done nothing wrong, especially in these moments. The tremors which engulfed her were not something one could control when so much radiated over nerves. Though attentions would linger upon the tremble of her hands, watchful of how they hoped to seize hold of the canister offered. His own grip never fully relinquished as it steadied the container, prevented it from spilling contents to the grounds below.
Briefly sights drifted, cast over quaking digits to the very arms they lay connected to. Nothing upon them that would bring a horrid concoction to leap upon his own skin. While he still did not wish to get too close, did not want to touch her in any way, there was little else that could be done. So - against his better judgment - fingers enclosed more securely. Steadied. Carefully guiding it to her so that the liquid within might actually reach her lips. Though action does not come without question, one he had little hopes of gaining an answer to, “What is this on you?” Without knowing could it really be treated effectively?
There was no malice from what she could detect. No true evil that claimed this strangers aura other that he too bore the lycan’s curse. What do you have to be sorry for? His question came in the undertones of the quiet ice. Trembling hands took hold of the cannister, barely sweeping against his own that would steady it. Solana merely winced at the contact of the cold against her right palm where a branded burn scarred the center. She could not express her gratitude well as the stranger aided with the drink as teal lips pressed against the rim.
A welcoming sting rolled down her throat as she managed the drink. Dramatically thinking, it felt like eons since she had quenched her thirst or quelled the hunger with lack of nourishment. What is this on you? Solana would turn away to catch her breath. She could not tell how extensive the damage truly was. “Acid…. I-…” her breathing still labored, as if speaking even simple sentences were a marathon of its own. “…I think…traces…” Her jaw tightened as she could recall the predator pouring the substance down upon the bend of her shoulder before intentionally splashing it against her back. She could hardly make out some nonsensical shouting, and when the answers they sought were not given, more was poured down her chest and into her lap.
“…Silver.”
It burned the way silver would in contact of Lycan flesh. It burned in such a way silver would, that would not allow their bodies to heal as rapidly as they should. She could not express her discomfort wholly given her exhausted state but the pained evidence that was written clearly upon her unusual, exhausted features would’ve hopefully been enough. “P-please..” she implored in meek desperation. It was all she was able to muster then.
Ears twisted back as labored phrase reached them. The very admittance of just what tainted her flesh only sparking further desires to pull away. Prevent the corrosion from spreading and eating away at his skin much like it did her own. Just don’t touch it. Don’t get any closer than was necessary though already she lingered so near from this small act of assistance. Already he’d felt the way fingers brushed, how fleeting touch brought a jaw to clench despite no sear of silver chasing after it. It was still in the realm of possibilities.
What could not be seen might still be present in trace amounts, though an urge to jerk back was resisted. Forcefully content to remain in place and allow another to drink. Desperate in the way she swallowed back all that could be handled while rosen gaze remained glued to the ways exposed muscle contorted with each motion. The sight of it bringing features to scrunch yet nothing was said over horrific malformation. Who even held access to such large amounts of acid? Silver easy enough to come by, substance so often donned against the occult for it was caustic all its own. A promise of protection. Harsh twinge echoing through nerves at the thought, at the radiation of continuous pain it caused.
There were plenty who could have gained access to such things; alchemists, witches, exterminators. Any with permits, any willing to traverse the black markets. Unlimited possibilities in who had dealt such punishment but one thing was certain. This was malicious in its intent. Festering infection, a battered frame, nothing was treated. Searing substance left to deal a blow that stranger’s hand apparently would not. Hopefully she could provide more information on the matter for the moment she was stabilized it would be reported.
“Afraid I can’t help much with that. Can’t touch silver,” or acid for that matter. It was never something the goat had to handle before. None had gone throwing it upon any he’d kept the company of before. While there had been attempts and tending to silvered marks nothing had been wholly affective, nothing worth carrying. “I’ve got a friend I can bring you to,” no matter how the witch would complain over it, “But I’m not sure how we’ll get you there.” She could hardly sit up, let alone stand and walk herself to the woman’s abode. And without protection against the corrosive substance there was little desire in hooking an arm around her. Uncertainty on if it could be washed off… something else he wasn’t terribly keen on helping her with.
He wasn’t aware of possessing any magic to cloak himself from that searing touch. Nothing brought in excess on his journey to visit the witch, nothing he held confidence in holding form against whatever devouring remnants still lay fixed upon her and delved ever deeper into putrid wounds. Slow breath fled his lungs as a crown shook, “I’m no medic. I don't know how to treat this.” Admittance that she may not wish to hear but he wasn't about to risk worsening anything for either of them, “Is there anything you know of that might make you safe to touch?” Without getting burnt himself.
The events of those yesterdays remained and would remain fresh on her mind as if it had just happened moments ago. Clinging like a starved leech, a needy dark rain cloud that hovered over its host. Afraid I can’t help much with that. Can’t touch silver, Her weary expression remained unchanged. In truth, even if she could not express it right away, she did not expect aid to be brought upon her. They were but strangers. He did not need to stay; he could have simply walked away and dismissed her broken body. To remain abandoned and increase the risks of a recapture where she would have surely perished. She could have just as easily perished if he turned a blind eye.
I’ve got a friend I can being to you, Unusual eyes though as heavy as they felt, would lift to find his own, wondering if she had heard correctly? But I’m not sure how we’ll get you there. Her head would tilt, loose strands of her hair would fall against her face in the subtle motion, uncertain where there was or where even here was for that matter. Any other time, her curiosity would have bested her and she would have taken the time to explore the wooded area with generous care. To see what plants grew here – what she could harvest, or collect to trade at whatever nearby market she could find that would better improve her medicinal practice. Another time, if that came. Another time when she could do so freely and safely. I’m no medic. I don’t know how to treat this. came the strangers admittance.
Solana’s weight shifted propped against the nearest tree if she wasn’t already. The pain was excruciating against her back as that too had been subject to the abuse. Still, she made no effort to move anymore than she could. Is there anything you know of that might make you safe to touch? He followed up. She wanted to respond sooner than she had, though her answer came delayed. “Water.” Her voice came a little clearer since the reprieve of the drink. “Flush the affected wound with water.”
