ass over tea kettle
ioan
11-10-2024, 05:00 AM
Ioan isn't a fighter, but his father made him sit in the lessons. Learn the stances, have some idea, in case anything went wrong. It was instinctually really. The way his fur bristled, ears pulling backward, brow furrowing over his eyes as the other boy whirled on him. The boy was clearly saying don't touch me, don't come closer. But the thorns... Ioan's sense of self-preservation was lost when it came to those in need apparently. Still crouched, body on the defense, he takes a tentative step closer. "N-no catch," he stumbles over his words, fiery eyes meeting those of oceanic green. "Th-they need to be re-removed before infection," his nose nods toward the paw that is stuck with the thorns. It is clear now, as he takes another hesitant step closer, that he needs help. Without him or a companion, the boy won't get those nasty thorns removed. "Raider?" Ioan's brain tumbles around. At this very moment, he was glad he had insisted on so many lessons. Fighting, politics, navigation, healing, even trap making. His body smooths, staying crouched, but his fur lays down, head canting, brow raising slightly. "Ah, our n-neighbors across th-the water," he murmurs. "You n-need help. It d-doesn't matter where you c-come from," Ioan insists, another step until he's clearly in the boy's personal space. "P-please let me help," holding out a paw, an olive branch, asking the boy to give in at least until the thorns were removed. |