Mores the pity

Io, dealing with nausea from her treatments, was laying on a pile of furs in front of her cottage. Approaching paws were the only thing that made her open her eyes. It was Basilisk, Aslas new friend. He immediately launched into formalities. Use him to explain injuries? What? He wanted her to hurt him to prove a point? Wow, this kid was fucked up.

Io waved a paw, simultaneously shaking her head. "Wait, stop." Piercing green and gold eyes stared at him hard. "Cut the formalities. I don't like them. I don't care if I'm the Warlords sister. I'm just Iolaire. Io for short, but don't call me anything else, got it?" Her temper was a little short today and it showed.

"Secondly, I'm not sure what sort of crazy upbringing you come from, but here we don't purposefully harm our packmates. Injuries get healed as they happen." Hurt him to heal him? Absurd! Her silver and snow brow still furrowed, she continued. "I'm glad you want to learn, but you've got to lighten up, kid."

Io shook her head once more. "Now, what do you want to learn? Any particular area of expertise interest you? Medicine? Gardening? Poisons? Medic training?" She was giving him options. It would be easier to pinpoint his strengths if he told her his interests.