Once he left Ignita to it, he trotted to the den of his newest slave. He kept her in the den across the Col from his. In easy sight of his patio, and his companions were often on a watch point there. Not necessarily for her sake, but to keep an eye on the rest of the pack. That it was easy to include her obedience was only a happy coincidence.

He knocked on the door with the back of his paw, his only warning before he stepped in. He’d ordered her to stay in the den the first night, but had since given her freedom to wonder the Col. But according to his companion, he was in the den. “Marina” he said briskly as he entered, giving no pleasantries beyond her name before he jumped straight to it. “I need your knowledge as a healer. If you had a patient that could be described as suddenly checking out mentally, breathing quickly, heart rate up, and unresponsive to what was going on around her but no injuries, what would you think was happening?”

"Basilisk"

Despite having been granted a small modicum of freedoms to move around the Armada, Marina still chose to remain in the confines of her den as much as she could spare. It wasn't a self imposed imprisonment or anything like that; quite simply, she just didn't want to see any of the wolves around her. She didn't want to be a part of this pack, she didn't want to be here or be forced into working for a wolf that cared nothing for her beyond the value of her laborious paws. But Marina was a survivor and she would do whatever it took to get back to her home, no matter how far away or how impossible it seemed. She would attain her freedom someday. So she would play her part for now, act the role of a subservient healer at the beck and call of her master. But she would not be happy about it.

Marina had returned to her den with some of the herbs from the Armada's stores in the Col, intending to start putting together an actually useful medical kit for herself. If she was going to be made to do a job, then by the gods, she would not be crippled by a lack of resources or tools! Her body was still stiff and sore from where she was recovering from her rough handling by the slavers, but every day was better than the last. She'd only just gotten back and settled down to begin working when there came a knock at her door. Marina didn't bother to respond—whoever it was would either leave her alone or likely barge in anyway, so her response mattered not. Sure enough, in marched the giant mutant wolf that held her very soul around his neck like it were nothing more than a mere trinket in a toy box. The marital wolf's lilac eyes lifted from her work where she was grinding down some dried herbs in an old pestle and mortar to identify her unwanted guest, then dipped her sight back down again. Don't make eye contact with the masters.

Basilisk gruffly asked for her advice as a healer. Though still young, Marina had been training with plants and medicines from the moment she could talk. This was why he had bought her, after all. "Yes, Warlord. What knowledge do you seek?" she asked, and he wasted no time explaining a theoretical patient to her. Female, mental disassociation, increased cardiovascular activity, unresponsiveness to outside stimuli. And he wanted to know what the cause was? Keeping her expression carefully measured so as not to tip off the snark that came in her reply as she chose (perhaps poorly) to respond sarcastically. "It sounds like she's having an orgasm, and a good one at that. If your Lordship is unfamiliar with such a thing, I could explain the fundamentals for you."

"Marina"

Basilisk was prepared to listen carefully to the healer. Slave or not, he’d been raised on the importance of a healer's advice. So such a cavalier response came almost as a shock to him. He snarled, and moved forward. Stepping into her personal space as he looked down at the small young wolf. He was tempted to slap her, and his slaps bore claws. He clenched a paw, and loosened it. Extending his feline-like claws as he contemplated doing exactly that.

Instead, his expression was cold as he extended just one claw, placing it under her throat as he forced her head up. He wanted to see into her eyes when he spoke. “Are you offering yourself to me, little healer?” He threatened softly, moving the claw to stroke it across her chin. He would not be letting this little wolf into his heart so easily, and she certainly was missing Iggy’s charm. “Answer my first question again.”


"Basilisk"

He was angry now. Of course he was, she hadn't made that passive comment about his inability to please women to make friends with him. The shock in his initial reaction had been worth it though. The bastard held her life in his paws and she was not going to make owning her pleasant, no more so than she had made it for her original captors. Then came the snarls; oh good, he had caught on. Marina was mildly concerned that might go right over his head. When he stepped up into her personal space, the much smaller fae just set her tools down and off to the side so he wouldn't spill her hard work all over the floor. She saw his massive paw clench; he wanted to hit her. Mentally, she dared him to do so. Show off what kind of a man he really was. Instead, she saw him extend a set of retractable claws from his digits, and that caught Marina's attention. So he had claws just like her? Interesting...

A sudden sharp prick as a claw caught her beneath the chin pulled a flinching gasp from the femme. Her initial instinct was to pull away, but doing so would have sent that sharp claw right through the soft tissue under her jaw. So instead, Marina grit her teeth and bore his humiliating as he turned her head up, their gazes meeting. Despite the impassivity on her face, fire smoldered in her eyes as she refused to be broken by him, and a cold rage seethed in his. His remark sent a shudder of disgust down her spine and she swallowed back the thought hard. "I would never impugn the Warlady's honor, but if that is what you desire, Warlord, then I will do my duty." Another jab at his appeal? Perhaps, though more subtle. She hoped and prayed he didn't choose to indulge in her though. At least the slavers hadn't been that depraved to sully their merchandise...


Her eyes briefly flickered over her mentagion around his neck and for a moment considered her odds if she tried to yank it away and make a run for it. They were not in her favor. He demanded an answer, and so she would give him one. "There are many things that can cause those symptoms, Warlord. I only gave you the most common cause. Perhaps if I knew more about when these symptoms started, what caused them initially, I might be able to give you the clarity you seek."

"Marina"

Basilisk had no intention of ‘indulging’ with her. His loyalty was to Hazel, and Hazel alone. If there were wolves out there that would consider such acts with a slave as outside of betrayal, he was not one of them. But that wasn’t the point of the threat, and he had no intention of letting her in on his feelings. He would get the information, dammit. At her jab to his Warlady, he offered her a dark smile. “Your right, I should offer her to join us, and really make use of that snarky mouth of yours.”

At her glance to the jewellery around his neck, he was reminded of other means to control her. He released her chin, knocking it lightly to the side as he lifted his paw away. He rolled back on his hunches, placing himself just outside of her striking range. In case she responded badly to what he was about to do next. Leaving the tie around his neck, he raised a paw, extending his claws again. His eyes on her, instead of what he was doing, he carelessly began to use the corner of the pendant to flick a little dirt out from under his claw. Perhaps she would remember that the next time she played games with him.

“I believe there was a trigger, something that started it. Near the end she started rambling, and apologizing.” He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to say ‘panic attack’ and put the words in her mouth.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Oh boy, this guy really was a special kind of depraved, wasn't he? Inviting her into the bed of him and his mate, the thought made her skin crawl. Gods above and below, she prayed he was just saying these things to get a rise out of her! She knew a number of slaves during her incarceration that had been sold off for the purposes of pleasure and satisfaction to their owners, but she'd always kept a hope that maybe she could avoid such a fate. Maybe that hope had been too much to hold out for with Basilisk Fatalis... Marina's lips pulled tight into a fine line as she debated adding a third snarky comment to their conversation, but she never got a chance to. Basilisk pushed her chin away and sat back on his haunches, towering above her as he began to fiddle and play with her mentagion. Marina's eyes instantly locked to the pendant, following its every sway as he batted it around like a cat with a toy.

Then the fucker began to clean his grubby claws with it! Marina's eyes shrank to pinpoints, her ears flattening against her head. A quiver to her lips in a barely perceptible snarl as he toyed around with the most important thing in her world like it meant nothing! He was speaking again, but Marina was only half listening. A trigger, something had happened to this hypothetical patient. "Did her words make any sense in the moment, or were they nonsensical?" she asked, but her attention was fully on the pendant in his paws while she spoke. If he so much as chipped it... When he gave his answer, Marina spat out the first diagnosis she could think of just to sate him. "It sounds like a trauma response. She had a relapse into some traumatic event when triggered by a stressor." She flinched as his claws made a metallic raking sound against the pendant. "It's like a panic attack, but with a specific kind of trigger. An action, a phrase, something that brings the memory back. Now please stop doing that!"

"Marina"

Basilisk smiled, pleased that he had figured out exactly how to gain her obedience. There was of course the faint worry that her words would try to deceive him in some way. Perhaps once he was through with talking to Matina, he would get a second opinion from the kid, too. Just to ensure he didn’t do anything that would hurt Iggy.

He rubbed the pendant gently on his coat to remove any dirt from his claws, and released it to hang freely from his neck again. “Of course” he agreed pleasantly, as if they were having a friendly conversation and he had simply done something that annoyed a friend. “So, you have a patient with a trauma response - how would you go about treating her?” He asked. Which was the entire reason he had come here.

"Basilisk Fatalis"

Marina absolutely detested the way Basilisk smiled at her. It gave her the chills in all the worst ways, like some sort of malevolent being was toying with her. He seemed satisfied with her actual answer to him. Wait... was he testing her?! That thought irritated Marina more than the thought of him just being plain old stupid did. Narrowed eyes leered daggers up at him until he let her mentagion go, only then did she begin to relax some. She huffed under her breath and rolled her eyes at his ignorance. So he knew about panic attacks but didn't know how to keep them from happening? Yep, that checked out for a sociopathic asshole like him.

"You don't treat them," she explained, exasperation painting her tones as if she were explaining a basic principle to a child. "Trauma responses can't be fixed like a broken bone can. The mind is malleable, fragile. Once it's damaged, sometimes it doesn't heal. The best you can do is keep them away from their triggers and try to mitigate the symptoms when they come back." When, not if, because these issues would never go away. Mental health was not a perfect science, and fixing mental or emotional damage was sometimes just patching wounds rather than fixing them. "I'm not a fucking therapist. I'm a medic. I fix physical injuries and illnesses, not intangible ones." That is to say, there were some medicines that could help with a panic attack, but there was no magic cure like Basilisk was looking for.

"Marina"

You don’t treat them. He’d been a little afraid of that. It was after all the reason he couldn’t go to Halo with this. She had taken one of her children and left the pack to help them recover. If the solution was an easy one, she wouldn’t have had to leave.

He thought about what had triggered Iggy. telling her she was embarrassing him seemed to have been the key, unless he had missed something else. If he avoided such accusations in the future, would they be able to avoid another episode? “You’ll be a fucking therapist if I tell you to.” He snapped at her, his mind still running through what had happened with Iggy. This had been… a waste of time. He turned and walked away from Marina without another word.

- Exit unless stopped -


"Basilisk Fatalis"