Oleander chuffed a half-hearted laugh at her comment then looked at her pitifully as she pointed out her own self-worth.

"You're only figuring this out now?" He asked with a shake of his head, no he wasn't good at this whole slave master business. He wasn't raised like that. He rubbed the top of his nose for a moment then froze. She was staring off his shoulder and he glanced back, seeing nothing there. Her usually dark nose went ashen gray and her ears paled. Then her voice went all hushed as she spoke about the apparition beside him.

She shrank back and he slowly reached out with a soft tone, "I promise you, I don't see him. He's not actually there. You're safe." He waved his arm over the space beside him without turning to it, not acknowledging the apparition.

If she was seeing things, she was probably not sick and would have an interesting if fearful few hours ahead of her. He would not have prescribed her mushrooms with her history, it was just going to open up a terrible can of worms.

He pushed himself up and reached out to the tea in the corner, he took a swig of it quickly before she might have worse hallucinations before he was ready to help her tackle them.

"Okay Vesper, stay with me. Things are probably going to get very strange for you. I promise you're going to be okay. You just tell me what you think's going on and I can help keep you grounded. If things get scary just take some deep breaths with me. I promise you, you are safe." Safe with the stupid boy who slapped her. She forgave you dumbface! Maybe, maybe it was just a show.

"Speech"

The rush of adrenaline and fear surprised her. It was a stark difference to how she felt with Oleander, with this pack. A part of her still hated the Armada, but it was so much softer, that hate. So much quieter. The things the wolf in the apparition had done to her… they would turn Oleander grey with shock.


He was grinning at her, and he shook his hips suggestively. He held out his paws… and suddenly there was something in them. Her mother, her form small and frail. You could count her ribs through her fur. Her eyes were dull and unfocused. A proper broken wolf. 


Oleander was speaking, but she had stopped hearing him a long time ago. Her mother was sobbing. “I'll do.” She whispered brokenly. “I'll come back, I'll do whatever you want, just please don't kill her again.” She arched out her neck, as if allowing a wolf access to nip it.

He took the last swig of the tea, from the cup, still feverish, still fighting his own apparitions. But he had a feeling his were pale in comparison to hers. Shit.

The fear on her face made his own skin pale. Fuck, she was going to relive her worst nightmare. There was nothing he could do. Oleander had dealt with apparitions and hallucinations since he was a child in the deepest throws of his own childhood sickness. He hadn't needed to deal with them for a while now.

He chewed his cheek as he watched her put her neck out, whispering in the most pitiful way he had never heard her speak. If he moved, she might mistake him for an abuser. If he touched her she might lash out... Except she wouldn't lash out... She would comply... in the worst way possible. Take the patient's history into account. He wouldn't dream of hurting her, he only wanted to help. Don't come at her from behind, don't push her around. He slowly and quietly reached out a paw, across the table toward her. He would let her touch him first.

"I'm the only one here. We're the only ones here Ves. I promise to never hurt you again. I'm the only one here. We're the only ones here, Vesper... I will not hurt you." He repeated over and over quietly. His heart thrummed against his chest. She seemed blind to everything around her. At least the apparitions couldn't touch you. It was usually how he figured out what was real or not. The tiger continued to circle and would leap occasionally at him only for nothing to happen.

"Speech"

Vesper felt her eyes drawn by movement. Pulling her eyes from the apparition was painfully difficult, but she did it. She turned, and glanced over at the white wolf as he extended his paw. She tentatively reached over and placed her smaller one in his. Feeling the warmth of his skin, and tried not to squirm at the contact. She kept her eyes from the apparition, though she could still hear him. Still hear her mother. “Please… Ollie.” She said, dropping his honorific, dropping his full name.

“Please, I can’t go through this again. Put me under. Let me sleep until it goes away.” She whispered. Her cheeks felt damp, but she refused to acknowledge them. To acknowledge anything but Oleander as she made her desperate plea.


"Speech"

He pulled his breath through his teeth as she slowly pulled her attention to him, holding it as their eyes met. His breath escapes his maw in a soft high whine after she desperately pleads with him. Her smaller paw barely warm against his. Don't trap her, don't dare. Don't even move.

His deep viridian eyes, one accented with freckles of lavender, flickered between her striking intelligent blues. It wasn't her fault she wasn't educated. His mind ran down the list of potential sleep aids, she already had valerian in her body a nerve relaxer, poppies would just ease any pain, ether was impossible to find and harder to make. Skullcap was anti-anxiety... Chamomile would settle the stomach. He ran through more herbs that he knew had soporific effects, sleep-inducing, but some of them might make these hallucinations even worse, or... if mixed stop her heart.

"I'm still thinking, Ves. I'm trying to remember anything and everything that might help." He swallowed. One pad softly brushed her paw in his. He dared not encase her paw in both of his.

Another moment passed as his mind reeled while trying to keep her attention. He bit his bottom lip and held in his teeth for a moment, coming to a terrible conclusion.

"What I have either won't help, make things worse, or kill you." But he had an idea, a glimmer of hope "But tell me where he is, in this room. I'll gut him. I'll protect you." He said, totally serious. Wherever she would point he would rake his paws over thin air, practice his best fighting moves on the image of her nightmare. Maybe it might make her laugh.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

She could hear… she could hear them behind her. The sound of flesh on flesh, her mothers soft, breathy wimpers of pain. She closed her eyes for a moment, but that just helped her imagine the sight she would see if she turned around. She’d seen it all before, of course. Her childhood was a blur of pain and fear and anger. She tightened her grip on Oleander, and her eyes this time were less pleading, harder. A hint of steel.

“I don’t care, My Lord Oleander.” she forced the words out as he told her the risk. He brushed his paw over hers and she pulled the paw back. The symphony of moving flesh behind her made the motion over her own paw more sickening. “I’ll take that risk.” She couldn’t sit here and listen to this for the hours it would take for her body to come down from this high.


"Speech"

She pulled her paw away with a swiftness that made his heart stop for a moment. Serves him right, who was he to comfort her in this? His gaze casts to the floor. With a curt nod, he moves to the shelves, he picks up a tincture of valerian and skullcap. An extract made with potent alcohol. A sharp harsh flavor that could make her limbs feel like rubber and her anxieties worse if she doesn't feel relaxed enough to sleep.

He tapped it against his claw. How much... Would it interact with the mushrooms? Where was that Tiger of his anyway? Would the mushroom escalate the effects and put her asleep forever? No, Valerian was generally safe, Skullcap was fairly safe in this form too, if she didn't respond well to it maybe passionflower? He grabbed a bottle of passionflower and brought them both back to the table. Out of her reach.

"It won't knock you out on its own, you'll have to try to fall asleep but they'll make it easier. These are incredibly strong, you won't need much to feel the effects, should overcome the levels of mushrooms in your system." He grabbed an empty cup filled it with fresh water, and placed a very small splash of each extract in the cup. Then slid it over to her. He was working as fast he could.

He looked up and around, the room really was empty it was just them.
"I think the tea worked for me though. I can see better and the tiger and the others are gone." He mentioned, hopefully, that might give her hope that they found a cure, together.

"Speech"

She sat on her paws and waited with gritted teeth. She never had been very good at simply sitting there and watching terrible things unfold. She wasn’t a fighter, so she had fought back with what she had. Sarcasm, a sharp tongue. She didn’t feel either would work very well against an apparition. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spoken so sharply to Oleander, but storms, it hurt to hear it. To know her mother was dead, and this was the memory she would always have of the woman.

She was subtly shaking when Oleander returned to her. She grabbed the cup as soon as he handed it to her and scullled the lot of it. She let out a soft breath, trying to close her mind to the sounds and images behind her. “What was your childhood like, Oleander?” She whispered.


"Speech"

He swallowed back his reaction to seeing her tremble. He literally could not imagine what she was going through. She was so incredibly brave to have survived what she had... Brave or... enduring? Most likely the latter. She had no choice but to endure the torture.

He watched the cup instead of her as it was lifted and guzzled down quickly. Well... Should probably get her to lie down, help her try to sleep this off.

His ears caught her whispered question and he looked up surprised for a moment before he let his gaze drift away. He didn't want her to feel threatened by any supposed lustful gaze to set off her traumas.

He shrugged, he knew she was trying to get distracted but he really didn't have much of a story to his childhood.

"Let's get you to bed. After this, we need to find you your own den finally. I don't think you'll want to hear about a pampered sickly highborn who can't remember much of his childhood. It's not that interesting." He gestured to her cot in the corner. He had been neglectful of her need for her den, or maybe he was worried she'd bolt if she had her own. Maybe he just wanted someone to be near, listen to them in the other room like they did in the treehouse.

"Speech"

Instead of telling her a story, he told her he was kicking her out. Fear suddenly washed through her and she clutched Oleander's paws. Delirious from the sleeping herbs and the mushrooms. “I'm sorry” She whispered, frantic. “I know I'm a difficult slave, but I don't want to be alone. Please.” She released him with a sigh and fell back on the cot. She felt a phantom itch up her back, A reminder of what it felt like for a polar bear to tug and tear at her flesh. Consuming her while she was still alive. Her eyes were closed as she huddled there on her blankets. 


“My mother was the weakest person I knew. She took everything lying down. I barely heard her speak, and when she did it was just a whisper. She was dying, used up and empty when she heard them speak. Th-they said that they would rape her daughter to death in front of her. Their last bit of fun with their favourite toy.” Her eyes remained closed as she spoke. Saying so much more than she ever had before. “My mother came to me that night, and she sounded different. Stronger, more commanding. I'd never seen her like that before. She said there would be a distraction, a chance. When I heard it I was to run as fast as I could and never look back. Then she walked up to the lead slaver, meek as a lamb as she stopped before him. She lunged for his neck, and I ran. But I disobeyed her. I looked back, and the grass was wet with her blood and his, and he was holding her down, his claws in her throat…” a soft pause, and then she spoke again. “If your pack is telling the truth, I'll earn my place. I'll learn how to fight, and I'll go back there. I'll kill every last one of them.” She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

His eyes danced over hers, suddenly confused about her fear, he was about to brush it off as part of her current drugged experience when she apologized and pleaded, she didn't want to be alone... She clutched his paws and her paws were frantic and chilled from her fear. She didn't want her own den? He carefully led her to her cot, but quietly sat down next to her, off the cot, on his elbows. He was here, he wasn't going anywhere. Not while she was desperate for company in her state. He was surprised she wanted his company. He was still feverish, but the hallucinations were gone. His body still ached and for sure it would take some time for him to recover fully. Maybe it would be best if he laid in a cot out here, keep an eye on her...

She started talking, telling him exactly what happened. He kept his breath even and subtle, but couldn't help the quiet hitch when he learned of their no doubt very real threats against her. She was strong, she was so... traumatized. Welcome to the job Ollie, Mister Trauma Specialist. He watched her fall asleep and carefully placed one of the blankets over her. Good, the tinctures were working. He sat and watched her for another moment. He wasn't even sure what he was thinking. He was just lost in a fog of duty and grief.

Haggard, and sick he made a large vat of tea. He hoisted a few jars of it over his shoulders, tied with twine, and began to deliver it to the afflicted. He glanced at Vesper before he left the den, knowing he'd come back, but not knowing if she'd be breathing when he did. He takes the tea to his father first, then to each member knowingly afflicted. Every time he needed to restock he would watch her for a moment in the doorway on his way in and on his way out. Good still breathing.

It was a cure of sorts. It was a supportive tea that would help them recover quickly and not spread this dastardly disease, giving them hallucinations. This would combat the worst symptoms and help the afflicted rest and recover. The diseased meat and other products were all cleared away and they all knew what to look for if they came across it again.

The Armada was on its way to recover from this strange blight.

...
When he was done delivering the news and tea, visiting the patients, and telling them he'd be back with more tea tomorrow, he quietly dragged one of the cots of the clinic, a bundle of furs really, closer to Vesper's bed. Not completely side by side but closer. He flopped onto the furs with a flump. His eyes watched her closely until he started to fall asleep too.

-fin-

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Thank all the stars that she couldn’t remember her dreams the moment her eyes slipped open. Though she had tossed and turned her fair share sleeping off the bad mixture of drugs. She awoke feeling restless and stressed, and couldn’t quite remember why. The time after taking the mushroom tea felt a little vague in her memories.

What wasn’ vague was the shape of a cot beside her own. When she blinked her vision clear and sat up a little, she realised that it was the white healer who had set a cot near her. She felt… she didn’t know what. Confused, surprised? She covered it with a mild annoyance. Sounding miffed as she spoke. “Don’t you have your own room?” she asked dryly.


"Speech"

Ollie had slept through the night, unmoved like the dead. When the morning came his awareness drifted back to the living. He was exhausted. He peeled his eyes open just enough to peer through his lashes. The form of grey nearly purple smoke fur comforted him to know she was still there. He missed sleeping close to Wylan. He missed hearing him chatter on with Seneca and Marina in the next room. He missed being held so overbearingly close under wings and furs and being fed teas and meals when he was too weak to lift his head. He missed being squashed between his siblings and listening to their stories about their lessons and days when he hadn’t been able to join them. He heard the treehouse had crumbled in the blight. He missed that treehouse.

He noticed her shift in breathing but he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head as she stirred. How much would she remember?

Her dry comment gave him enough of an answer. He drew in a heavy deep breath and sighed it out with an exhausted groan.

“Do you remember the question you had for me last night?” He asked, tilting his head to let a droopy half closed eye look at her through his white lashes. What was his childhood like? His ribs were showing through his fur, she might be able to count them from there.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION