Oh shit. Oh shit. Fuck. Right. Rave had made a swim. She'd swum and she'd swam. Swim. Swam. Swum. Right. She'd done that. She'd done that but... shit, it hadn't been good. No, no good. Right. No good. Nope. No good at all. No good, no good. Her sides. Why did her sides hurt? Fuck. Frick. Hot damn why did she hurt? Why did it hurt so bad? Fuck. Blood? No. Couldn't smell blood. No blood. Sea water. No blood. Nuh-uh. No smell of blood. Nope. None of that. No smell of blood but she hurt. Open wound? Open. Open wound. Stinging against the evening air. Evening? Tie-dye sky. Pinks. Purples. Pretty. It's pretty. Is she pretty? No. No, not pretty. Looks like a drowned rat. Crumpled on the beach. Drowned rat crumpled on the beach. Drowned. Coughing. Can't be drowned if you can breathe. Can't not breathe if you can breathe. Could she breathe? Rave coughed. She coughed again. And again. Trying to clear her lungs. Trying to right herself. Trying to drag herself to her feet? Yes. Could she? No. The creature stumbled and fell on her face again. Mouth full of sand. Coughing. The smell of blood? A scrape. Many scrapes. Scrapes along her sides. Along her flanks. She'd been dragged across the bottom of the sea for a bit. There'd been a storm. A storm? But it was so clear now. A storm that had cropped up over the last island. A storm, and then quiet. The storm and the wicked inside. Rave was the wicked. A wicked little bitch. No. Well, kind of. At the moment the only wicked she was? Wicked scared. Wicked disoriented. Wicked confused. Wicked... hungry? Food would be good. She could find food? No. Gotta stand up to find food. Gotta eat to find food. Trying to climb to her feet once more. Trying. Failing. Stumbling again. Mouth full of sand. Cough. Try to stand. Anger. Rave was so angry. She couldn't climb to her feet. How could they fail her now? How could they fail her like this? Volatile. Upset. Rave is upset. Rave hurt.

Athena has taken to patrolling the island multiple times a day and that is way she is out along the beach right now. The pinks and purples that paint the sky as the sun sets below the horizon, only sweeten the moment. Amber eyes look up to the sky, watching the great swathes of color that dance among the clouds. Suddenly, the wind shifts and the scent of blood hangs heavily on the breeze. Eyes harden as she looks forward, quickly working to follow the trail. Is it another predator that has swam across? If it is wounded it will only find death on these shores. She works carefully to stay down wind, deciding to gauge the threat before barging onto the scene.

Silent paws carry into a large bush, the woman hunkers down low as she moves closer to the metallic smell. She finds a very small wolf laying on their side, coughing, heaving out globs of sand. The side that Athena can see is scraped open several deeper cuts coloring her fur crimson red. Something seems off and so, the earthen wolf continues to inspect this stranger from a distance. Do they know they are trespassing on pack land? Their eyes are distant, unfocused and she watches as emotions play across their features. The anger that appears has the woman knitting her brows together, pondering if she should call for help or leave the wolf to her fate. For all she knows, this wolf may be bringing danger into Athena’s home.

Compassion finally wins out and the earthen woman steps from the bush, tilting her head back to call for Cerberus and a healer. Chimera had directed her to ask all questions to Cerberus and she dutifully follows the instructions. Once done, she cautiously approaches the hurt wolf, making sure to keep a safe buffer distance between them while the earthen woman weighes her options. Athena finally speaks up, saying, “Take it easy, help is on the way.” She keeps her amber eyes on the small wolf ready to subdue them if needed. After all, you can never trust a wounded animal.

"Athena Nocturna"

Athena's call was alarming to him, and he wasted no time join to join her afterwards. When he arrived he was even more surprised but didn't get so defensive at the sight. They had recently had the raid and that was much different than this singular wolf struggling to stand on the beach.

Athena tried to calm her down a little, and Cerberus didn't hesitate to approach too though a little more comfortably. "You've called for a healer, we should get her into a bungalow until then." He had seen Chimera hold wolves outside of the pack inside the bungalows until he could know more about them. But Cerberus also knew that if this woman became dangerous, she was going down into the cells with the slaves. Hopefully she thought twice before reacting so.

Without much warning, Cerberus leaned down to throw the tiny woman over his shoulder and back, maybe he wasn't thinking so clearly but what could go wrong?

"Cerberus"

An audience. An audience? Rave had an audience? There was someone else here. Someone else, but she doesn't see and doesn't hear until they're near. Too near. Too near for comfort. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, a stranger. A stranger looking at her. Rave's eyes flash open, go wide. Too wide. Too wide for comfort. Whites showing around the sides. Too piercing. Too bright. A shiver courses down her back. When did it get so cold? Was she cold? Fuck what was that feeling? Too much sensory input. Overstimulated. Understimulated? Was that right? Is that why she's cold? A voice. It's close. Too close. Too close, too close. Rave attempts to take a step backwards. Take a step? Rave wasn't even standing. Feet. She can't find her feet beneath her. Fear. Fear came too. Fear came strong, coursed thick through her system. Spinning. Why was everything spinning? Her vision swam. Swam. Not in a good way. What was that feeling? In the back of her throat, a feeling. A feeling sort of feeling. Drool? Oh. Disoriented. Trying to stumble on feet that won't cooperate. The girl's head swung to the side, and unceremoniously, she threw up another bit of seawater. Brine and salt, salted from the inside out. Rave was salty. Pickled. In a pickle. "Wheat," she'd tried to say who and what at the same time. Rave's head swam. Waves at her sides. Still being buffeted by the waves. By the surf. By the sea. Had the storm broke? Why did it still feel like she was being tossed about? Tossed. Thrown. The ache in her sides. Raw. Too much raw flesh. Rave is the pound of flesh. Everyone will get their pound of flesh no. Fuck. Pull your shit together. Shit? Thoughts. Shit. She spat on the sand beside her, trying to clear the debris from her mouth. Barfing seaweed and saltwater on a strange beach. Would she throw up again? Sickly sweet taste in her mouth. Head spinning. Swimming. Rave was still swimming? No. Crumpled body. Sandy beach. Raw flesh. Fuck. Where was she? Take it easy, the words come. Easy? Rave doesn't do easy. The stranger was right in thinking, though, that the creature crumpled on the beach shouldn't be trusted. Can't be trusted. Swimming head. She's still underwater. Underwater? No, she's on the beach. Everything was spinning. Everything was swimming. Her gaze is bleary as she tries to focus on the source of the voice. A woman. A girl? Amber eyes peer back at her. Shit. They weren't alone for long. Shit. Rave tried to scramble to her feet again, but it was useless. Her heart pounded in her chest. The man that had joined them was big. Too big. Too big. Her blood ran cold. Heart pounding. Fight? Flight? Fight and flight? Flight and fight? Fight, the dice land. But she can hardly stand. Dehydrated. Banged up. Rave's instincts said fight, but she couldn't. Flight. Flight. She could run. Stupid girl. Rave can barely stand. Aching muscles. Aching bones. Bones? Bones. Shit. No fight. No flight. Not capable of either. Fear. The third option. Freeze. Rave freezes. Her gaze flickers between the two strangers, and finally she lay still on the sand. Still. No. She's not dead. Should she play dead? Fuck maybe she should play dead. No. Rave shouldn't be holding her breath at a time like this. That, and she's bad at it. They'd know right away that she was playing. That she was faking. The grasp of a stranger. Grasp? Surprise. A curse of surprise. A yelp. It rings out, but she goes limp. Fear. Fear. He's going to eat her. Fuck, this is how it ends. Limp. Quivering. Freezing. Freezing, save for where she's in contact with the boy. Shivering, be it in fear or because she's fucking cold. Both. What the fuck. What the fuck had she gotten herself into?

Athena watches the young wolf writhe on the sandy beach, hesitating to move any closer to the thin body. Is it a ghost? Amber eyes see the blood welling on its sides and she casts the thought from her mind. It doesn’t seem real, its form lurching and moving in jittery, uncoordinated motions. Without warning, the stumbling wolf’s head swings to the side and vomits up a frothy bit of seawater. Nose wrinkles as the smell of bile hits her nose and Athena tilts her head back to call for Cerberus. A word falls from the wolf’s mouth and causes further confusion in the earthen female. She tries her best to soothe the struggling wolf, dancing away when it staggers closer, heading toward some unknown goal.

Finally, it crumples into the sand and Athena’s dark eyebrows knit together as she watches over the fallen youth. Cerberus is swift to answer the frantic call, appearing in the dark night like a wraith floating across the land. Perhaps it is just her nerves, this strange, unnatural wolf making her more jump then usual but, when the horned wolf appears, Athena gives a violent start. Quickly the aberration turns into the form of Cerberus and she immediately relaxes. The heir moves to the still body and Athena warns, “Be careful Cerberus. I don’t think the wolf knows what is going on.” He suggests they take the stricken wolf to a bungalow and Athena moves up next to him, ready to tame the wild wolf if needed.

As he gently grabs the wolf to sling its form over his back, the small stranger gives a loud yelp that sets the earthen-hued female on edge. Stepping to Cerberus’s side, Athena coos softly, “Easy now. We are taking you some place warm and safe. Rest.” Amber eyes look over the small form as she moves with the heir, ready to step in and help and any point.


"Athena Nocturna"

Cerberus didn't react much to the strange young girl yelping as he grabbed her, but was attentive to the tension of her body and maybe her overall uncomfortableness. He couldn't blame her, nearly drowning out at sea and now washed up on pack lands with wolves she didn't know surrounding her. Oh well, he'd rather help her than let her die out here on the shores he guessed.

He smiled gently at Athena as she suggested he be careful, and maybe he wasn't fully grasping how dangerous the new woman could be. A little joke and gentleness to his tone, "I think I can handle it, but thank you Athena." They started to make their way towards the bungalows, and as they drew closer with the building just in sight he asked, "Could you stop by the stores and grab a few pelts?" Hoping Athena could do so.

They made it to the bungalow, Cerberus sliding the girl carefully off his shoulders before turning to walk just partially out the door to call for a healer who was available. Athena had already called, but they had relocated and maybe it would come back more urgent this time. He was sure Athena would be back with some more pelts soon too.

"Cerberus"

Erys was more alert to the voices of Chimera’s offspring. Though he was more expecting the younger ones to ask for help with a booboo he wasn’t going to ignore Cerberus’ call. He wasn’t sure where the more experienced healers were but when he arrived at the bungalow he realized he was the only one to answer. Confusion and concern lingered on his face as he looked to the prince with a tilt to his head.

He could only just see within, but he could smell the unfamiliar wolf from here and on Cerberus’ fur. Mismatched ears perked forwards, his focus full on the red and black boy. "What’s going on, Cerberus?” Obviously he was unwounded, so he wondered if his presence was needed because of the woman within.


"Erystotle Atlas"

A ghost. A ghost? Rave could be a ghost. She'd be the best ghost. No, like, really the best ghost. Jumping out from behind corners. Making spooky ass faces. Being scary as fuck. Yeah, Rave is a ghost. Boo, bishes! No. Fuck. Right, she's a ghost. Like, the half dead kind. The half drowned kind. Half drowned, washing up on the shores, looking like absolute dogshit. Shit. Fuck. If she'd seen herself, she would have been embarrassed. Right. Couldn't be seen like this. Gotta play eyeball collector. Rave could collect their eyeballs. No. Shit. Wrong species. Too tall. Can't collect their eyeballs. Kneecaps? Collect their kneecaps. Shit. No wait. Wrong. Wrong, Rave. Trying to help. They can keep their eyeballs. His voice. Her voice? His voice. They swim in her head. Swim. Shit it still felt like she was swimming. Swimming fuck. She doesn't like swimming. Rave, in fact, thinks that she won't be swimming again for a long time. Had she smacked her head? When hadn't she. All of it was a little too much. Though she tries to keep her eyes open, the world around her lurches. How high was she? How high up was she? Gotta hold on. Warm. He's warm. All Rave can do is cling to him and keep her eyes squeezed shut. Down. Going down. Falling? Falling. Rave flailed for a moment, trying to catch her bearings. A whimper. The source of the heat gone, Rave is puddled on the ground once more. The ground. It's more solid here. She's confused. She's dazed. Dazed. How many days had it been? How many days? How many... how many so many days. Shit. Pushed into the sea? The sea. Cast into the sea. They'd thrown her. Spartans. Not a spartan. Raving mad. Ha. Rave. She's raving mad. Yeah she was. They didn't want her. It was why they didn't want her. Toss her into the sea. Feed her to the fishes. Give her to the gods. Given over. Given over. Taken away. No one's problem anymore. Everyone's problem. Again, Rave whimpers. Cold. "C'ue c'mback," the words are slurred. They taste funny. Rave was still nauseous. Would she barf again? Maybe. Probably not? Was there any more salt water to throw up? Probably not. Right, probably not. More voices, swimming in her head, though the bungalow around her was starting to take shape a bit better. Pain? Pain. Soreness that covered both sides. Aching, radiating pain. How? Not just how, but where? Where was Rave? When was Rave? A summer storm had taken her. A summer storm had delivered her. Autumn had fallen around them, and here she was. Yearling, summerborn. Born. Born again? Skin. Bones. Teeth. All of it cold. All of it shaking. A puddle on the floor. Rave was, effectively, a puddle.

Cerberus tries to assuage Athena’s nervousness by gently telling her he can handle it but the earthen wolf still worries. There are few things that are more dangerous than a wounded animal and she is already uncertain if the hurt wolf even knows where she is. Still, as the large form of Cerberus and the injured wolf begin to move towards the bungalows, Athena offers him a small smile and follows. He asks her to stop by the stores to gather pelts and she dips her head in acknowledgement, saying, “I will get them. I will be back soon.” With that she splits off to head to the stores, to gather the requested items. She picks out three large, fluffy bear pelts and slings them over her back, carefully settling them for the short trip ahead.

Once she is certain the pelts won’t slip off or hinder her movement, Athena swiftly makes her way back to the bungalows. As she nears, the earthen wolf spies the form of a smaller male and she feels a great sense of relief knowing that a healer has arrived. Dipping her head in greeting, Athena ducks into the bungalow to deposit the requested pelts near the puddle of a wolf. Carefully, slowly, she pulls one of the warm pelts over the small, shaking wolf and tucks it loosely around her body. Once done, Athena steps back outside to allow Cerberus and the healer more room to work. Softly, trying to keep her voice soft so as not to disturb the hurt wolf, Athena says, “Let me know if you need anything else. I’ll keep watch out here.” With that, she takes up a post outside the bungalow's entrance and waits.


"Athena Nocturna"

Erystotle came to his call, Cerberus pointing a paw toward the half conscious girl on the floor of the bungalow. "She was washed up on the beach." Athena came in then, and Cerberus followed her and helped her wrap the girl up in pelts before he looked back to Erystotle and pulled back a portion of the pelts to show the cuts on her sides that came from who knew what. "I want to get her taken care of before I call my father."

Cerberus carefully put the pelts back over her body for the time being. He wasn't completely sure what kind of treatments she would need, but growing up with both Siren and Dalila he was more aware than the average fighter. He was sure her cuts would need tended to as well as something for her lungs from the ocean water and debris. "Thank you Athena, you are dismissed." If she wanted to stay outside of the den, that was fine with him. Or she could go back to her own den. Cerberus laid down beside the girl with his chest against her back and a paw around her shoulder of course with the pelts in between their bodies. He needed to be able to control her if she started panicking, he wouldn't let her hurt Erystotle. "Let me know how you need me to help."

"Cerberus"

He wasn’t a big strong wolf like many within Fenmyre but when he was needed Erys wouldn’t hesitate to come when called. Especially when it came to Chimera’s son. He didn’t really expect the scene in front of him, but his mismatched ears perked as Cerberus explained himself. The delirious woman had washed up on the shore, and she needed to be stabilized before Chimera was called for.

Cerberus revealed her wounds and Erys nodded, knowing what he would need to do. She would need her wounds cleaned, probably a sedative, and to be hydrated. Athena was dismissed and Cerberus restrained the patient. The once slave trusted Cerberus almost as much as his father. "Just hold her still.” Erys returned. "And make sure she doesn’t spit this out.” He added as he offered the herbs to help dissolve her pain. If she took them and ate them they would be doing good, if not he wouldn’t shove them down her throat. She would just have to deal with the discomfort.

As soon as Cerb had her restrained Erystotle went to cleaning the wound. As gently as he could, but there would no doubt be pain even if she took the herbs.


"Erystotle Atlas"

There's a ghost here. A ghost. Rave is the ghost. Rave is the ghost inside her own head. She's the ghost that haunts her bones. Bones! Oh wait, she's all bones. Skin and bones? Skin. She has skin. Skin that's raw and clings to the tattered creature's frame. Frick. Frick! Yo since when was she so... ow. Rave hurt. Another shaky breath. One more. Right. Focus on breathing. Focus. Focus, dumbass, focus. Her head swims. Buffeted by the waves, dragged along the bottom of the sea, and still she feels like it. Dry land? Dry land. Something like that. Nothing like that. No, there's nothing like Rave. You'd have to be half mad to dream her up, after all. Mad. Only half? More than half. At least three-quarters. Cold. She's still cold. Voices cut through the fog, coming closer. Rave whimpered once, shrinking back into herself. Shrinking. If she made herself small enough, she'd cease to exist entirely. That would be ideal. Was she even supposed to exist anymore? Was she even real? Maybe. Maybe nothing was real. Shit, was this another weird dream? Could be. Could do. Could do all the weird things for weird dreams. Rave exists in a weird, dreamlike state nearly all the time anyway. This time... was she real this time? The pain in her ribs was certainly real. She's not alone in the nightmare, at least. Not alone. Close. Warm. The warm had come back. Rave shrunk back into the strange boy, opening her eyes briefly. Everything was so... bright. Bright? What time of day was it, even? Rave didn't know, nor did she really... care? Any light was too much light. The sea had done a number on her head, smushing it against the sand and all. Though the concussion would only be considered mild by a medical professional, Rave wasn't a medical professional. Or a professional of any kind. She can't shake how dazed she really is, especially not now. More strangers. Less alone. A pale stranger, she caught his coat as she pried open her eyes once more. He smelled funny... no wait. No it's not him that smelled funny. Herbs. Achoo. Not a big sneeze, no. A small sneeze. A small sneeze that's followed immediately by another whimper, the sudden expand and contract of her lungs aggravating all of the already-angry muscles. Restraining. Restraining her. Instead of pulling away, Rave pressed into the boy instead. Broad. Warm. He's warm. She is not. Eyes still mostly squeezed shut, Rave tentatively took the herbs. Taking drugs from strangers had never led her astray before, so she'd probably be fine. Another wave of nausea rolled through her system, but there was nothing left for her to throw up. No sea water. Just the herbs that she held in her mouth and would eventually (probably) swallow. Chew. Focus on chewing. Focus. Rave struggled to ground herself. Struggled with... struggling with herself. That was okay. She's okay. She's... probably not okay, but that doesn't matter. "Th'fkn hurts," her speech is still slurred, though the words come through maybe a bit more clearly this time. Clear. Clear enough. Rave is, of course, baby. When she's injured she's a baby. You can be a baby and a bad bitch. Rave was both. Rave... was not feeling like her baddest self, or her bitchiest self, but that was okay. She'd survived. Surviving was good enough.

His patient wasn’t awful but she wasn’t great either. Erys was thankful that he had Cerberus here to help because he certainly couldn’t overpower the woman. She was young but she was feisty no matter what the affliction. The way she tried to avoid light, the delirium hanging over her head. There was more than met the eye that was wrong here.

The worst part was over though, she got her medicine down. Next she would need to be hydrated, but considering how much she was heaving that might’ve been better to wait on. He was quite suspicious about what was going on under the surface. He didn’t know who would be taking care of the poor thing but he’d say it outloud anyway. "I’m afraid she’s hurt her head. To be safe we should watch her, and keep her from sleeping.” If there really was a concussion, staying awake was nearly vital for her health.

"Erystotle Atlas"