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*Laeta*

"How did you manage that? I’ve seen my share of injuries, but not many live to tell the tale when the neck is damaged.." The nebula-pelted male asked. Lae paused, brow knitted softly as if she knew the storie but couldn’t, for the life of her, recall all the details. Truth was, the ooze had ailed her severely, physically as well as mentally. It had felt like the fireflies had eaten at her brain, making her erratic, delusional, and it was a miracle she hadn’t died from wandering off to gods-know-where on the island. "An interaction with a cloaked entity, one made of fireflies, went foul," She said, and it was clear the experience, or what she remembered of it, pained her to speak of. "I don’t recall what I did to provoke it, being infected with the ooze. However, when I came to, I couldn’t move." She sighed softly, the words spoken a grim reminder she had to live with. She’d promised herself not to dwell, to keep carrying on existing because it was all she could do. But at times, what fragments she recalled of the entity and how she had awoken paralyzed from a strange dream came back in waves, like a stormy sea.

In acknowledgement of his other sentence, she offered a very subtle nod, a slight upward tilt of the chin. "I guess I’m one of the lucky ones, then." Her words weren’t literal - no wolf would be fortunate to have this injury and survive. She knew it would be preferable to perish than to know one couldn’t move for the rest of their life. She had, what, six years or so left in her? The mortal realization of her injury had crushed her over and over during the ooze breakout, when she thought she would. It was strange how she, in her weakened condition, could pull through while others that appeared healthy could pass away. She knew such cases existed. Why her? Realizing her thoughts were laced with a toxic blend of cynicism, she shut it off with a soft blink of her ruby eyes. She was better than that. She knew better than to mope.

She instinctively inhaled sharply when the nebula-streaked male pressed his large paws into her neck, not expecting him to touch her. What was he doing? Even Mel paused his sweeping to nervously peek over and was about to ask a barrage of concerned questions when Laeta asked tensely, "Erm, may I ask what you’re doing? Are you a physician also?" She’d already been seen by Syanna who’d given her the diagnosis, and Gwyn had prescribed her herbs for the pain in her joints. The male’s toes pressed into her lower vertebrae, the injury being situated higher towards the skull. Still, his pressure shot down to her aching joints in her shoulders and elbows, making her wince.

"Speech"

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paging dr. house

Deion

Laeta