OOC: Pesto first then any healers?

When Sparrow was adventuring and gathering pirates and the such, she didn't expect to really run into another packmate. Especially not the pretty Pestilence girl she met a while back. Especially especially didn't expect to run into her all beat up and limping back to the pack. Sparrow hadn't hesitated to offer the other woman a shoulder to lean on as they made their way back, even though their close proximity and the warmth of Pestilence on her fur was driving her crazy. She figured it was just the chill of fall and the excitement of meeting an injured packmate. She resisted turning her head because Pestilence was right there and it would just fill her with the girl's scent and somehow made her want to shove her nose into the other's fur and take a bigger smell. She'd have to ask what type of plants and stuff Pestilence used later. Or maybe it was just so comforting because it smelled like home- like her pack. As they drew closer, Sparrow cast a brief glance over her shoulder, "So- uh- what happened again?"

Finding a friendly face on her way home had made the walk a thousand times more bearable, and while she couldn't manage much words of explanation it didn't seem to bother Sparrow any. Nor did the blood and dust that clung to her fur, no doubt spreading onto the shoulder which Sparrow had kindly offered. She was a good wolf, Pesto decided. When they neared the knolls, her stomach began to turn in knots. Alarr was literally going to kill her. The guy was as skilled a fighter as she was if not more, and he'd had to patch her up way too many times in the last season for him to turn a blind eye to her coming home mangled again. She glanced over at Sparrow, wishing her pack-mate was instead a healer so that they could deal with this here and now without her best friend having to find out.

"It's really a long story." She started, clearly uncomfortable. Would Sparrow think she was a loser? "My sister - or ex-sister or whatever - she's been a bitch all my life because she believes she's a God." Pesto gave her pack-mate 'the look' that said, yeah, i know, right?? before continuing. "I'm not a fucking sheep so I don't buy into their bullshit, but fuck. Tox really does. So we fight a lot. She likes to bring up my dad and tell me just how disappointed in me he must be, but the dude is dead so I don't buy into any of that either."

Her voice nearly cracked at mention of her father, though she held it together best she could and hoped it would just pass off as exhaustion. "So I went to the volcano where he died and Tox was there with one of my other sisters. I was just, so fucking mad!" There was the possibility that Sparrow might look down on her for instigating the fight, but Pesto was venting now and not thinking clearly enough to lie to make the story sound less of an unwarranted attack between packs. "I attacked her, they fought back against me two on one. I would have won but they went for my stitches, put me down, then pushed me off the cliff." Pestilence gave a heavy sigh, slumping onto the grass. "Can we just stop here? My paws feel like they're about to fall off.

Sparrow listened to Pestilence's story, holding back an incredulous laugh at the insanity of it all. She attacked her siblings who thought they were gods and then she lost and they pushed her off a cliff. Yeah, that kind of hit all the marks for crazy family drama. Suddenly, the other woman slumped to the ground, asking to stop. Sparrow's heart pounded a little faster. While rest was all good and well, they needed to get into the pack and Sparrow knew that you probably should be awake for healing and not asleep or- you know- dead. As soon as Pestilence asked to stop, Sparrow clicked her tongue, "Nope, no no no, not now, we got places to be and revenge to strike, Pestilence." She leaned over and scooped the other woman up over her head and onto her shoulders.

"I'll do the walkin', but you gotta stay awake and do the talkin'. So- uh- yeah your family thinks they're gods, yeah? Why don't you?" Sparrow tried to prod the other into talking, "Do uhhh Locusts or Famine or whatever they're names were all think they're gods? You mom and dad too?"

The rest of the way wasn't too far, but the pace was slowed as Sparrow carried Pesto. One ear kept turned back to listen for Pestilence's words and also her breathing. While Sparrow was good under pressure, she wasn't so sure about this whole finding your packmate half bled out on the way home. At one point she wanted to be a healer, but she didn't remember that stuff now.

When the two crossed into the pack territory, Sparrow called out for any other healers around. She stomped some grasses down in a circle and gingerly placed Pesto down. "Aaalright, easy now, darlin'," she muttered as the other slid off her shoulders. "Now just gimme a second, I'll be right back. And STAY. AWAKE." Sparrow turned and kicked off, locating some things she knew she could find easily- some weed and some alcohol.

Sparrow returned to her packmate, lowering a bundle of dried weed in front of her, "Alright, eat on that and it'll help the pain," she said. "I hope," she thought. After that she moved to clean any debris from Pesto's wound- that much she was familiar with. "This'll burn, but it -uh- will probably help," Sparrow said as she tipped the bottle over Pestilence's wound, hoping to rise and disinfect the rest of the wound before placing the bottle at Pesto's maw, "Aaand there's some for you to drink. Don't worry, good ole Sparrow'll have you feeling fine in no time." In reality, Sparrow just hoped to get her inebriated enough that her rough patchwork healing wouldn't be traumatic while she waited for another healer. "You're gonna be fine, okay? You hear me?"

Pesto was more then ready to settle down past the border and rest, when suddenly her body was being heaved up over her shoulders and all she could do was protest with a meek "Hey! No!" Her expression turned sour, but after it became apparent that Sparrow wasn't kidding did Pesto allow her head to collapse upon her pack mate without more protest. "Stay awake? Keep talking? Gods, Sparrow, I'm not dying." The Klein girl grumbled argumentatively, before obediently continuing with the conversation. "Yeah the whole damn family. Abraxas as a whole. My suggestion? If you hear anyone introduce themselves as an Abraxas either put them down right there or just get the fuck out before they try and covert you to the cause. I'm not insane, so I don't buy into it. The rest of them are, though."

She kept talking as Sparrow instructed, eventually being dropped gently into the flattened grasses and groaning. "Nope, gonna die right here and now!" She called back after the woman bluntly as she ran off to find her 'medicines.' Laying down felt great actually, and Pesto did consider closing her eyes for a nap but the last thing she wanted was to freak out the other raidsman further. When Sparrow returned, her eyes were only half-lidded with exhaustion. She glanced down at the herbs and raised a single brow, her nostrils flaring as she took in the very unfamiliar scent. Pesto had been injured a dozen times before and this remedy was unknown to her, but she wasn't the type of wolf to complain about free medical care. "Alright then."

She reached for the bundle and gave it a nibble before red-hot pain poured down her neck and she damn near choked on the herbs as she cried out. "Fuck! Sparrow!" Her glare returned, and she kept it upon her packmate while she took a chug from the bottle. "I'm gonna be fine, but you do that again and you won't be." The threat was a grumble, and she flopped her head down upon her paws with a huff and a groan.

Pestilence told Sparrow she wasn't dying and Sparrow let out a dry chuckle, "Yeah, okay, sure." Like a dying person would admit they were dying. Whatever. Sparrow did laugh when the other advised staying away from all Abraxas. "Yeah, sounds like a loony bunch." After Pestilence was set down, she called out that she was going to die as Sparrow ran off. Sparrow shouted back, "You better not die on me, buttercup!" She felt a lot more secure that they were in the pack now, though.

So as for the treatment... Pestilence did NOT seem to like it. Sparrow retreated a tad with a wicked smile as the woman cursed at her and threatened to kill her. Good, so there was still some fight left. Sparrow leaned in briefly, "Aww, but you said you were too tired to walk. Did you really lie to me just to be carried?" Sparrow's smile grew cocky, "That's fine, I like a damsel in distress." All at once, Sparrow's mind caught up with her playful banter and she stalled for a solid second. "N-not that you're a damsel- HAH! I'm joking, obviously- who likes someone who's helpless? Not me hahaha!" GOD she hoped a REAL healer would come soon.

The call for a healer wasn't something Ásvor had the heart to ignore, even if there might be things she'd rather be doing. A stranger's call was one thing, but a packmate's as something else entirely. Sparrow's call was familiar to her, at least enough that she recognized it, and she rerouted her path toward the borders where the call had come from. Though she'd been tidying her herb stores in preparation for the upcoming winter, well... wasn't this exactly what these herbs were for? Bundling an assortment up quickly in a leather hide, she set off to find the meaning behind Sparrow's call.

When she arrived, she wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. At least the scene was leagues different than the last patient she'd dealt with, much to her relief, and catching the tail end of Sparrow's words didn't offer her any insight. At least the mood didn't seem too somber. Ásvor definitely did not specialize in emotional trauma and she wasn't in the mood for consoling today. Making her way over to the two women, she dropped her herbs and moved closer, noticing quickly that Pestilence was the one who was worse for wear. And it smelled like alcohol. She clenched her jaw firmly, hoping this hadn't been some stupid liquor-fueled incident, but she was one to keep her thoughts to herself until she knew anything for certain. Her gaze swiftly moved over Pestilence as she rounded her, trying to take a tally of any potential injuries. Nothing life-threatening, at least on the surface, which was a bonus. "What happened to your girlfriend here?" Ásvor glanced up at Sparrow, unsure whether Pestilence was up for telling the story or not - she looked completely exhausted at first glance, if nothing else. And she was definitely making assumptions based on their body language, though she didn't really care if she was correct or not.

Pesto did a fine job of keeping her scowl upon Sparrow all the way up until she suggested that the exhaustion was all a lie so Sparrow would carry her. Her jaw fell open in protest and she spluttered out something unintelligible, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. Damnit that was not the appearance to put out to the other raidsman - a damsel? Pesto was never going to get a promotion. The gears within her head continued to turn as she tried to think of a suitable retort, something cool and relaxed and witty preferably, seeing as that seemed to be the way Jupiter made himself look confident and infallible.

The approach of Asvor screeched her train of thought to a halt. Her head whipped between Sparrow and the healer. "I'm not - we're not - no!" She stammered, dragging herself to her feet so she could properly defend the notion. The spike of shock and adrenaline kept her on her feet even through the surge of pain that followed. Pestilence's reputation in Fireside was going to dive and dive hard, and what would Alarr think if he heard such whispers? Her paw lifted and hung in the air pointing towards her fellow raidsman, gesturing small circles as she struggled to put to words what had happened. "I was attacked, Sparrow just was trying to help get home for healing." She looked to Sparrow again, begging her to clarify the situation to their pack mate.

Ásvor showed up not too long after they arrived, and asked what happened to her- wait. Sparrow choked on her own spit for a moment, but as Pestilence denied it so vehemently, Sparrow felt a small pang in her heart. To swallow any amount of bruised pride, she attempted to deflect. She used her paw to gently but firmly try to shove Pestilence's maw shut, "Yes, my GIRLFRIEND here got herself all attacked and I had to heroically save her from perishing in the wilderness." Sparrow shot the healer a goofy grin, "Next thing you know we'll be getting married over our enemies' graves!"

Ásvor didn't give a damn if they were girlfriends or enemies or whatever they wanted to call each other, she just wanted to sort out what had happened. She'd gotten a good lesson in patience from raising Ulfr but she was far from the most patient wolf around, and she had to restrain herself from wringing Pestilence's ears as she stood up quickly. "Okay, sure thing, now sit your ass back down," she told her swiftly, standing a bit taller over her now. She wasn't crying and panicking like her last patient had been, so she wouldn't be quite so emotionally tender with her. Now that pestilence was home safe she didn't need to be jumping around and waving her limbs about, potentially making her injuries even worse. Surely they'd be planning more raids in the future and having one of their fighters in her prime injured wouldn't do them any good.

She'd been attacked, she said. Sparrow only confirmed it, their banter reminding her just how old she was compared to the both of them. Alright, enough of their foolishness. "Okay, entirely unhelpful there," she started, sounding more matter-of-fact than annoyed. Her gaze shifted back to Pestilence, hoping she'd listened and sat herself down again. "Now, since you're clearly conscious enough to tell me, what exactly hurts? Move yourself so I can get a better look at it and see how bad it is," Ásvor instructed her, with all the firmness of a mother trying to care for their child.

When Sparrow did not double down with her against their involvement but instead confirmed it, Pesto's jaw dropped and it dropped hard. She stared in disbelief at the other woman for a moment, blinking rapidly. She was so taken back by the blatant agreement that Pesto was struggling to find the words to refute it again, and then Asvor was dismissing the subject entirely to do the very important work of a healer and Pesto obediently sat her ass back down.

"My neck is probably the worst, Alarr's already patched it up a bunch of times and the only reason the bitch got the edge on me was because she tore it open again." Having been maimed twice now, the side of her neck was scattered in scars both old and new. "Then they kicked me off a cliff, so, I don't know." The exhaustion of the adrenaline coming down was beginning to wear on her, and she was struggling to find what body parts hurt the most when her entire body felt like it had been hit by a car. "My ribs, I guess. And my neck, and my leg. And everything else." She turned towards Sparrow, directing towards the other woman the glariest of glares. "And whatever else will hurt after I kick the living shit out of Sparrow, I guess you should heal that too later."

Once upon a time there was no amount of patience in the world that Ásvor would've been able to summon up to deal with even the smallest incidence of tomfoolery, but fortunately for Pestilence she was far more level-headed now. It definitely helped that Pestilence sat back down as she'd been directed to. Her injuries sounded numerous as she began to list them - the side of her neck, getting kicked off a cliff, her ribs, leg, and allegedly everything else. Leaning over her, she gave a slight sniff and realized all at once why she'd smelled alcohol when first arriving. If this had been Sparrows's going she'd definitely made a good call though she couldn't imagine it had been pleasant. No wonder why Pestilence was so agitated. Ignoring her latter comment, she slid to the leather hide she'd brought and shuffled through her herbs.

Her method of choice was always getting the patient comfortable. Herbs were for relaxing the mind as much as they were for curing the body. Grabbing a few small pieces of kava root, she pushed them toward Pestilence. They were young roots and likely not terribly strong, but hopefully if she did as instructed they would produce a mild euphoria. Definitely calming but with more euphoric effects that she hoped wouldn't make her more irritating. "Chew on this. It'll help you feel better. Also numb your mouth, but ignore that part," she shrugged the rather powerful side effect off quickly. At least while she busied herself with that, Ásvor could go digging for a few leaves to chew and turn into a poultice. It was hardly the fanciest method but Ásvor didn't care, and maybe of Pestilence was mildly grossed it by it, it'd teach her to not get into so many fights. But knowing Fireside wolves, probably not.

Alas. Finally, once she was concluded she swiveled back around, spitting the herb mixture right onto Pestilence's neck and her wound. "Now," she said, lifting a paw to spread the mixture out over the wound. "Let this dry and fall off on it's own. It'll help the wound heal. For the rest, it sounds like a good rest be the greatest healer. Any questions?" If not, her work here was done, though she hoped for her own sake Pestilence spent a little time resting and not getting punted off cliffs.