Leave Me to Be With the Broken

@Quicksilver or @Nimueh come get yall healing points (or both if nimueh wants to learn from QS) probably after the funeral

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Orlaith had been given a proper send-off and with little left to tend to for the night she began to feel the weariness seep into her bones. For as strong as she may be, she was only one woman and even she had her limits. Ira was slow to clamber twisted peaks, her fur still stained with the blood of friend and foe alike. Rest would be welcomed, and come morning, her grind would begin anew. Nearing Mosswell Cavern, she'd call out once more, this time for any who were free to look at her wounds. Ira had checked briefly before, but just because she would survive untended did not mean she should. As she waited she would look to the darkened clouds in the distance. Even with the funeral passed the air felt unnaturally still and ominous...a sign of what more to come surely.

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This thread is set before his one with Reiko.

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Quicksilver was tired from his rounds, but he powered through. His exhaustion was nothing compared to the Vanderfell and Shirishika fighters who'd returned to the summit to regroup and begin to heal.

He was determined to give everything he had into the work expected of his as medic.

The druid had been busy restocking his pack for the next patient: pain relief, antibiotic, a sleep aid, whatever was to be expected for initial examination. As he collected the herbs between careful teeth and prepared to depart, a summons from the High Queen herself had him veering at once in her direction.

She was bruised and bloodied, but not broken. Ira was perhaps the strongest wolf he knew. Quicksilver swept his pale gaze over his Alphess' bloodied furs in attempt to decipher which wounds might first need tending to. “Tell me what you feel,” he encouraged on setting his parcel at his paws, and awaited consent to proceed.


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Timid as he may be, Quicksilver always kept fast paws when needed. It was something she could admire, never needing to waste her breath when he was more than capable of using his senses. The man left no room for her to explain herself, not that it was needed by now. Surely he had seen to others far worse than herself by this hour, yet still, he came with a bundle at the ready. Various cuts had been slashed or bit into her fur, though unlike the others she was lucky to only find herself at the jaws of a wolf. Harmful as they may be, there was no arguing the strength behind one blow of a beast fared far worse.

Settling onto her haunches, Ira would stretch out a hind leg gesturing with her snout to the worst that sat angry and red above the knee. It had been perhaps the only hold that Valmua clung to long enough to fester or even leave a visible scar, but only time would tell. “What I feel, is both minuscule and staggering.” A roundabout way to avoid expressing her feelings directly before returning to his true question. “The pain will subside, that I am certain.” But it would not be forgotten. She was no stranger to the marks buried deep in her skin nor the pain often ignored. Now would be no different so long as there were others with worse to overcome.

“She wished to cripple me, or so I believe. My leg was oft enough her target to do so.” Thankfully even with torn muscle the firelight had not bitten deep enough, or perhaps just missed her mark, to actually render her leg useless. She had ensured the wound did not bleed so freely, but between her movement and lack of treatment, even now did it ooze. The rest were raw, but at the very least sealed over. “How goes it? The others and your stores?” Vanderfell had little need to store the contents Quicksilver surely required now, but there was bound to be some amongst the new who could assist in replenishing what was needed.

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Ira's initial response was vague, and Quicksilver flicked his sterling ears back in uncertainty. Did she perhaps think he had asked after her emotional trauma? He supposed his question could be interpreted that way, and it wasn't that he didn't care about the Queen's mental health - he simply didn't feel experienced enough to adopt the role of therapist.

The worst of her wounds were presented to him, and doctor mode kicked in once more. He leaned over Ira's limb to examine its torn flesh. It no longer bled freely, thankfully, but considering it'd been made by the filthy maw of another he was concerned for infection. “Nothing sinister brewing yet. Here,” he shifted just enough to pluck the portion of dried ginger from among his supplies - the most palatable of antibiotic he'd stored, and saved specifically for Ira. He presented it to her; “this'll help keep bacteria from growing in the joint, but you must rest. I will bring you more.”

She was a wolfess who barely sat still, and he felt uncomfortable making requests of his Alphess. Still, the druid hoped she would heed his advice. “It should ease your pain a little as well,” he carried on, daring to prod his nose very gently to the area just above the roan she-wolf's knee where the skin remained intact - checking for any damage to bone beneath hide.

Ira spoke of her attacker, and Quicksilver lifted his working eyes to shoot her a thin smile. “I'm sure she's regretting that attempt now,” he emitted a short chuckle, for he doubted that the High Queen would've submitted to assault. “My pain relief and antibiotic stores are thinning, and the gardens aren't mature enough to support everybody. I plan to search the lowlands to see if the season has been kinder to those soils.”


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Quicksilver would draw near to inspect the wound leaving Ira to wait and watch his reaction before he ultimately presented her with a root. Instinctively she wished to insist he save it for another, but realistically she knew that was no option. Why else would she bother coming to him only to deny his aid? “And how long, pray tell, am I expected to sit still and look pretty?” Another jab of humor as she sighed before ultimately leaning down to gnaw at the ginger.

His report was much to her expectations. His supply would not last much longer and there was no telling if any would develop festering wounds, herself included no matter how strong she made herself out to be. “I only know enough to patch a wound, but if you share your knowledge I may be able to keep an eye out while I hunt or patrol the Run.” Chances were they would need to go further still to gain everything he required, but the more eyes and paws on hand the better.

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She was nit thrilled to stay put, not even fir a short time - but Quicksilver hoped she would heed his advice: “a week or so, then only light duties for another.” He looked down at the angry flesh wound on her limb, knowing that its position could prove an awkward place when it came to healing.

Any other wolf might appreciate the respite, but not Ira. The High Queen was devoted to her pack, eager to be present at all times, throwing herself into the fray so that her family would be safe.

But someone had to ensure she was safe, too.

Her quip was acknowledged with a soft breath of laughter, and he smiled lightly on catching the slightest hint of her own lips twitch upward.

The Alphess suggested that she would get interested in playing her part in the replenishment of his stores, and the druid drawled a contemplative hum. “Oregano might be easiest to find at this time of year,” he informed, “smells a little like mint, but... peppery? You'll find it in the sunniest spots.” A pause, as he eyed her to playfully warn, “only when you're feeling better, though. We need to keep you in one piece.” Vanderfell's leader couldn'tafford to be losing limbs to rot, after all!


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And so her sentence had been written. All things considered, she supposed it could be worse given who they had faced. Many others bore scars and heavy wounds that would take months or a lifetime to heal...and Quicksilver was right. She could wait a week at the very least, even if she would detest it. “I will keep that in mind once I journey out again. If all has been done that can be then I will leave you be. I am sure you are a very busy man.”

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