|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 9:31 am
Quote:  Gyllene had left her den to partake in a quick breakfast before returning so that she could gather her supplies for her morning rounds and visits with those who might need healing. Her shock upon her return to her den was monumental; there, on the floor, lay not one but two lionesses. Both were pale and pretty. One was unresponsive on the ground, and the other was sobbing softly into the fur of the other. Gyllene narrowed her eyes. There were two lions that she could think might've done something like this. First was Kjar. Second was Bruten. She hoped it was Kjar. "I am Gyllene," she stepped further into the den, speaking softly so that the female wasn't startled. "A healer." Quote:  Everything hurt. Every little inch of her burned with pain, from the tips of her toes to her bruised ribs, everything ached. Thumani wasn't sure why they'd been deserted in this particular den, and she was not about to leave her sister behind. There were times when Mashujaa drifted in and out of consciousness, and she always seemed to feel better upon seeing her sister's face. Thumani would not let her wake without being next to her speaking soft, soothing words. The stranger's voice caused her to let out a soft shriek, though she calmed when she saw it to be that of a female, and a healer to boot. "Please," her voice was hoarse from crying, "help my sister." Quote:  Mashujaa was weak, and it was so nice to simply close her eyes and drift high above her body. Was this what it felt like to fly, perhaps? Weightless and with no pain to anchor ones soul to ones body? She liked to think so. During her moments of lucidness, it was always nice to see her sister's pretty face. At least Thumani looked well. She was not bloodied; perhaps just a little bruised here and there, but nothing that she could not overcome. There was a rich metallic scent on the air, and Mashujaa knew it to be that of blood. Her own? It was likely. She let out a soft groan, a gasp of a sound, and then fell silent once more.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 9:41 am
Quote: It took Gyllene a few moments to survey the situation. The one who spoke seemed to have only a few minor cuts and bruises. The swelling of her leg was a little alarming, but nothing dire. The other female was littered with cuts and slashes, nearly all of them weeping blood. It was a terrible sight, but not one that Gyllene had not seen before. Blood did not bother the healer. Blood was life, and powered all. However, the sight of blood clotting and clumping in the fur of a small, pale female did trouble Gyllene. "I have water, here," Gyllene whispered quietly. "Take it and pour it on your sister while I prepare a healing salve that we can apply to her wounds. Be gentle. Tell me your name. I will tell you of your new home." Quote: "I am Thumani," she nuzzled her sister before moving towards the water that Gyllene had gestured at. It was a broad, thick turtle shell, hollowed out and filled with tepid water. Next to it was another, smaller shell, and Thumani used the smaller one to dip water out of the larger. "This is Mashujaa. We are sisters," she knew she was repeating what Gyllene already knew, but talking helped. "They attacked us, and Mashujaa fought for me. My leg is hurt," Thumani explained. The red turned to pink as water cleansed the wounds her sister had endured. "A dark lion, and his friend. I do not recall their names," she sniffed softly as she tended to her sister. Quote: There was a distinct feeling of pleasure as the water sank into her fur. It was cool on her skin, dampening her fur. She felt so warm, and so very tired. It was difficult to hover in the gray area between wakefulness and the sleep of the dead. She yearned to reassure her sister that she would be fine, but Mashujaa was far too weak to speak such things. Her eyes fluttered open, and Mashujaa looked towards the healer that pottered about. They were safe here, or so Mashujaa had to believe. They were safe here, and no further harm would come to them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 9:49 am
Quote: Bruten. The thought displeased Gyllene, but she did not speak his name. They would have words later, she was sure of it, but to speak of him now would only upset the female, and Gyllene did not want for such a thing. "You were taken as slaves. We call them thralls in this pride. We are the Stormborn, children of the Gods." Gyllene mixed the salve together; the herbal scent of healing herbs filled the air in the den, and Gyllene moved towards the prone lioness and her sister. "In this den you are safe. None will trouble you here, I swear it by the Gods. Once you are healed, we will find duties for you, and for your sister." Quote: Thumani bit back a soft, bitter sound. Slaves? They'd been royalty as cubs. Granddaughters of the Queen herself, and now they were mere slaves. Thumani did not allow her feelings to run away with her just yet. Later, after Mashujaa was looked after, she would decipher her emotions and deal with them then. Now was not the time. "Thank you," Thumani ground out, peering at Gyllene with swollen, puffy eyes. "She is all I have left in this world, my sister. I would be lost without her. I do not know why they came after us. I do not think we were on the Stormborn lands." She set aside the small shell and watched Gyllene approach with her healing salve. Quote: Mashujaa wanted to reassure her sister, but her tongue felt swollen in her mouth and she was incapable of speech. It took all she could muster to ground out one single word. "Sister." Her voice was hoarse and gritty, but it was important to her that she do whatever she could to assure Thumani that all would be well. She would survive, and she would heal, and they would be together forever. There would be time for that later. She felt a gentle paw along her side, and Mashujaa closed her eyes as a tingling sensation set in. It felt good.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 10:17 am
Quote: "It is what they are born to do, though not all Reavers are usually so harsh. We are not a gentle pride, little one. We are not keen on looking after the well-being of those who are not one of us." Her gentle touch belied the words she spoke. The salve was bitter-smelling, and wound undoubtedly burn once applied, but it would speed the healing process and prevent infection. Gyllene was quick and methodical, applying salve to each cut individually before setting the shell aside. The prone lioness croaked a single word, and Gyllene lifted her eyes to watch Thumani. "She will rest and heal. Now you must lift your paw, I have something that will help with the swelling and the pain." Quote: Thumani's eyes grew wide at her sister's whispered word, and she drew close to Mashujaa. It physically pained her to see her beloved sister in discomfort; it was easy to ignore her own pain. Thumani nuzzled Mashujaa softly before doing as Gyllene ordered. "It sounds like a brutal pride," Thumani mumbled softly. This would be her home now, she supposed. Perhaps a time would come when an escape could be attempted, but there was no way for her to even think of such a thing until Mashujaa was well. Obediently lifting her paw, Thumani watched Gyllene curiously. "You do not seem to fit in here, then." Quote: Mashujaa let out a broken little purr at her sister's nuzzle before drifting off again, her thoughts escaping the broken body they inhabited. Despite the terrible way they'd come to the pride, Mashujaa couldn't help but disjointedly feel as though it was nice to have a home again. A place to belong. So long as she never had to lay eyes on either of those males again, perhaps this would not be such an awful place to live. She could only hope, for her sake and the sake of her sister, that things went peacefully. The medication sank deep into her bones, dulling the pain that coursed through her veins.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Mar 05, 2014 10:26 am
Quote: "Mmm. I am a healer. I do not live my life to fight, only to heal those who do. And you, Thumani, would be wise to keep such opinions to yourself. Thralls - slaves - do not hold high rank in this pride. They have duties they are expected to carry out. They are to be seen and not heard. They are to be submissive; a good thrall will not draw the attention of lions like your captors." A different, thicker salve smelling of mint was caked on Thumani's ankle. Gyllene worked the stuff in, offering the paler lioness a smile. "Let it sit. I will go and find food for you. We will feed your sister, and speak of your future in the pride. I have need for a personal thrall; I have little doubt that I can find someone else who needs one, as well. Someone gentle, and female. Someone who will not beat you." Gyllene rose to her feet and moved towards the mouth of her den, pausing once to glance back at the sisters. "Rest. I will return shortly." Quote: Once Gyllene was gone, Thumani had much to think about. The salve that the healer had applied staved off the pain and discomfort she'd been feeling, and for that she was thankful. Slaves. Thumani did not like the sound of that, but there was little she could do. With luck, Gyllene would look after her and her sister. That was all that Thumani could hope for - that, and avoiding the attention of lions like the two that had dragged them here, the two that had damaged her sister. "All will be well, sister," Thumani hobbled closer to Mashujaa, situating herself so that she could rest next to her sister's body. "Sleep. Sleep, and heal. All will be well." Quote: Mashujaa's purr deepened, and it was the only outward reaction she could muster. Her sister's words echoed in her mind, soothed her, reassured her. She was lucky to have a sister such as Thumani, one who looked out for her the best she could. Truly, Mashujaa could want for no better sister, and she knew it. Her breathing regulated as she drifted to sleep, a light snore coming from her blood-stained body. They still had one another, a fact that could have been quite different if things had ended any other way. Pressed close to her sister, Mashujaa dozed, the deep sleep of someone who had faced death and had come away victorious.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
