Tears & Rain

Sitting through the meeting knowing that his sister was injured and in pain right in front of him had been difficult, but he waited mostly patiently for her to say what needed to be said and for anyone that wanted to say anything additional to her to do so. He couldn't help the slight, stern frown that lingered on his face while the meeting went on, very clearly bothered by the fact that his sister had decided to hold a meeting rather than get treatment for her wound first no matter the reason. The how and why she ended up with the wound was a whole thing in its own regard, but he had to prioritize what he was going to worry about to keep himself from losing sense of all of it and her immediate health was more important.

As soon as everything was done and Haydée rose to leave he was immediately at her side. As good as she was at putting on a brave face for everyone else, Dorian could see through it to see the way her shoulders sagged, the exhaustion heavy on her features, and the way she recoiled away from and squinted at the light. Even before she mentioned going to her den he had already decided that they were going to at least retreat to the caves so he had no qualms with that. He kept close to her side just in case and slightly guided her toward the caves and eventually to her den, glancing toward her face occasionally and noticing the distant look in her eyes. Her mind was clearly far away, but he couldn't blame her with everything that had happened in the last day or two. Hells, even with the last couple of days aside there had been more stress and trauma than any of them should reasonably be able to deal with, but here they were–doing their best to hold the line.

As soon as Hay was settled on her bed he was sliding his pack of supplies off of himself and going to fetch a bowl and waterskin so he could start cleaning up the wound, allowing himself to retreat into the familiar tasks and motions. Before he did anything else though, he pulled out a vial of concentrated meadowsweet extract and held it up to her muzzle, saying, "Stick out your tongue." When she complied he dripped half a dozen drops of the medicine on her tongue and let her swallow the slightly bitter, herbal tincture. Cleaning this wound would probably still sting regardless, but it'd at least help take the edge off of the pain. While he waited for that to take effect he poured a bowl of water and mixed in some trillium, placing a couple of rags into the mixture to soak while he prepared some other bandages, sutures, and poultices.

He was quiet while he worked, unsure of what to say or if he should say anything at all–partially because it was obvious her head was hurting her and partially because he couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't risk coming across the wrong way. She didn't need him to scold her or berate her, she was probably doing that enough to herself for the both of them. He wasn't there, he couldn't say what she should or shouldn't have done. Eventually he just sighed softly as he stirred one of his poultices to reincorporate some herbs that had begun to separate from one another. "It's just one thing after another, isn't it?" he said quietly, a frown tugging at his lips. It felt like their father's death had been the tipping point that had sent everything else downhill and it just didn't seem to have any sign of stopping.

"Dorian"