solo seasonal wc: 1046/800

Jael wouldn’t argue that fatigue had made its home in her bones. She dragged herself to the beach, trying to rid herself of the trembling that long to take hold of her muscles. Though Jael ached, like hell she was going to give up already. She’d made it this far, right? Untold miles lay before her, but maybe that would be a problem for tomorrow. Already, daylight was fading around her. Sure, it was late into the winter afternoon, but some of the darkness was far more fickle than that. A different sort of darkness indeed, as it spread above her head and around her shoulders.

Stormy skies spread far above the small, stormy girl. Wild to think just how much there was out here, against her. It’s her against the world, her against… everything. That’s what made new beginnings so important, right? Everything felt so big, so wild. Jaw set and determined, Jael wasn’t going to let it stop her. Though hail began to pelt down around her, she was ready. Whatever this new place, this new land was… she’d make it hers. She’d take whatever she could from it. As she made landfall, the slight woman knows she’s going to make history.

What she didn’t know? Just beyond the fringes of her vision, just flirting with her periphery, is someone who’d like to make her history… before she can even find proper footing. Jael isn’t alone out here, though the footfalls of her adversary are well masked by the pitter patter of hail on the obsidian sands. She shakes, sending the salt and seawater from her coat in all directions. It’s little use– Jael is still just as cold and miserable as she was moments ago, though slightly less wet. Hail was so strange. It stings, where it pelts against her thin coat and exposed shoulders. With a hiss through her teeth, Jael turned her attention inland.

It leaves her back exposed. It was in that moment, the predator struck. A wolf, large and dense and shadowy. Between her fatigue and the hail, Jael hadn’t seen him. Hadn’t smelled him. Hadn’t heard him coming. It was a creature that seemed to know how to keep quiet on the sand. Jael could feel the crushing blow as it connected with her shoulders, her side. With a yelp, she rounded. It’s more nose than she would have liked to make… what if she’d drawn attention to herself? She’d been improperly exposed before, but now? If her predator had backup, it was a death sentence before her story had even begun.

Shaking, trembling against the crushing blow and the cold, Jael rounded on the predator. Her teeth flashed, and she lunged at the strange wolf’s soft underbelly. If he was going to attempt to pin her, then she’d take what she could get. She can feel the ache of her muscles, the sting of the hail, the dull sound of it on the sand. His breath. Her breath. Both of them panted, snarled. A yip from her adversary… she’d gotten him. Still, Jael’s mouth fills with sand and grit and fur. Her body aches, muscles that were already sore now burning with the effort. She couldn’t… she wouldn’t allow herself to be scared. Panting and rallying what she had left for strength, Jael shot forward.

Forward and free of her adversary’s grasp, though not out of the woods. She was too wounded, too fatigued, to be able to make a run for it effectively. Warm rivulets of blood mixed with the stinging of hail against open wounds, and the predator wasn’t done with her yet. Jael felt his teeth sink into her hind leg, and she rounded with a savage bite. Her teeth find purchase in his muzzle, and it’s enough to push the attacher off for now. He would only take a moment to recoil, and Jael knows that he knows she’s hurting. Fuck she’s hurting. She can’t stop, no. Only forward. Her hackles up, trying to look bigger than she is but… well, there’s no hiding just how miniscule she looks. No wonder the brute thought her an easy target. More than twice her height and far more dense, it seemed the creature was surprised she’d put up this much of a fight.

But fight she would. Jael doesn’t allow him reprieve. Though she is bruised and bloody, there is so much fight in her. Call it for what it is– grit. Jael is gritty, and she’s coming unglued, as she realizes that this is a fight for her life. Through it all, the hail storm only seemed to get more intense. Larger and larger hailstones coming down around her, around her adversary. The stinging only intensified, feeling worse than sandpaper across the ragged and bloody flesh. Digging down deep, right into the last reserves of her strength, Jael lunged forward at her attacker once more.

The visibility was getting worse. Daylight was fading far more quickly than she would have liked. Jael’s head spun, exhaustion and injury threatening to take her over. She refused to yield. She couldn’t– not when she’d come this far. A savage snarl ripping from her throat, the small woman reengaged with her assailant. Though the world around her spun, she wasn’t giving up. Odds be damned, Jael was giving absolutely everything in her to keep fighting. Keep upright. The metallic taste of the brute’s blood in her mouth and the pounding of her own heart took over her senses.

You can’t pour from an empty glass, but fuck it– Jael was doing her best. Pouring from an empty glass is all she’s ever known, and it’s how she ended up here in the first place. She’s near-numb to the pain of her flesh shredding and giving way to the beast’s teeth and claws. It’s the muscle, the bones, the aching, that’s primarily what holds her now. Fatigued and ragged, another swipe of the male’s massive paw to her shoulder sends Jael sprawling flat in the sand. Her stomach lurched, her chest ached. Scrambling to find purchase with the beast hovering over her, Jael struggled to regain control of herself and the situation. Freezing and bloody, the girl is a sight, but she doesn’t give up. She can’t give up.

For a moment, Gilgamesh wondered why there were so many hailstorms lately. He understood living in the south meant milder weather, but hail? The weather changed and moved and became unpredictable, he knew that, but in all his life, this was something he hadn't quite experienced. And while he wanted to stay warm and cozy in the building he now called home, he couldn't. With him, he brought his companions, Urtur and Erish, who he could tell struggled to travel through the onslaught of stormy weather. The whole situation puts him in a particularly bad mood. If he wanted the beach to be an extension of his land, there needed to be more patrols there, but until the pups grew a little larger, he didn't have enough bodies for that. Honestly, he wondered if putting patrols out this far was worth it. Leave it open like the archipelago was where his mind led him as his paws touched down on the all too familiar black sand beach.

Trudging from the water with Erish doing her best to keep to the skies, her sudden call of alarm had him on alert. Both ears perked as his yellow gaze searched the beach. A rumbling snarl from Urtur had him turning to see a duo tangled together with dark liquid spreading out along the sand. One of the two was definitely too small to be agreeing to whatever it was that they were doing. Worried that it could possibly be his own offspring, Gilgamesh rushed forward. His paws reach out as his legs stretch into long, ground-eating strides. He puffs his hackles up, his fangs flipping downward, ears folding against his head. No longer did he care or even notice the hail that pelted his lithe frame. All he saw was a small form about to be torn limb from limb.

A snarl rips from his throat as he lunges at the large shadowy wolf. The stranger looked familiar. Similar to the one that had actually attacked his own pups. This causes fury to rise further until he sees red. Wrapping his forelimbs around the wolf's shoulders, he tears them away from the victim as he drives his fangs into the wolf's scruff. Suddenly, he is on the ground as the wolf flies backward onto their hind legs and slams them both down into the sand. Particles blind them both as they continue to write and rip each other apart. Holding on tightly to the wolf's scruff, Gilgamesh digs his fangs deeper into the attacker's neck. The wolf flails around on the sand, trying to reach Gilgamesh as he continues to tear at fur and skin.

Blood splatters around them, staining both their coats, but he doesn't relent. Even though he felt the cuts opening his skin and the bruises digging into his muscles, he wouldn't stop until the wolf was slain. No one would injure wolves on his land. That was his job. His decision. He was the judge, jury, and executioner, not anyone else.

Finally, he can gain purchase on the wolf's jugular. He wrapped himself around the wolf, pinning them to the ground as he stood over top of them. Lunging forward, Gilgamesh rips into the tender flesh beneath the wolf's jawbone. Warm blood floods his mouth and spills from the corner of his mouth. The wolf below him stares at him, still attempting to snap and swipe at him, but Gilgamesh is too much. Pressing on the wolf's hips with his back paws and shoulders with his forepaws, he forces the wolf to stay still as it slowly bleeds to death. Standing there, watching the creature slip away, the light in their eyes fading slowly, he waits until air no longer forces their lungs in and out.

As the last breath fades from the wolf, he lifts his muzzle to look at the poor soul who had been attacked. The girl lays crumpled on the sand, wet, and bloody, he questions if she's even still alive. Before he approaches the girl, he turns to his companions. Urtur, a bloody mess from helping, and Erish puffed up and quite agitated that she's had to stay in the hail that continues to drill them. "Erish, go back and let Sakana or Rivin know I'm bringing an injured home," he directs the owl who takes to the air without second-guessing his decisions. Turning back to the wolf, Gil presses the wolf's jaw open and swiftly rips out the four canines, depositing each one into a small bag that Urtur wears around his neck. "Help me take her back," he directs the wolverine before turning his attention back to the crumpled mess of a girl.

Stepping off of the dead wolf, he slowly approaches the girl. He retracts his fangs before lowering his bloodied muzzle to her form. Nosing her shoulder gently, his eyes glance over her tiny frame. "Wake up," he rumbles as he nudges her cheek softly before lifting his head. Unlike most, Gilgamesh had little knowledge of any healing, but he at least knew that the bleeding had to stop before they could transport her. "Urtur, go back to the ship and fetch some old cloth. I'm sure we can use that to bandage her for now," he tosses his head toward where the cavern lay nestled along the southern edge of the beach. While he waits for Urtur, he carefully lays himself on the sand and curls around the girl's tiny frame so that she can be somewhat shielded from the elements and kept warm.

"speech"

The shadowed creature stood over her, bearing down in a way that Jael couldn't describe. The pressure was immense, and she knew she was fighting for her life. Bleeding from the head, bleeding from the shoulder, trying to catch the breath that was just ripped from her lungs. Though Jael fights to maintain control, the world around her had long since started to grow dim around the edges. The vignette took over, and everything in Jael's world went black.

Wake up.

She doesn't know how much time passes before a voice cuts through the darkness, through the nothingness, but who? Fighting the crust of sand and blood, the girl shudders, tries to open her eyes. Her vision is blurry, and it's all she can do to slowly move, to wipe the grit away. How long had she been out? She'd gotten her ass handed to her, something to be expected with the size difference and the exhaustion, but... this wasn't the man that had hit her. He comes into focus, though her vision swims. Jael could still feel the phantom waves buffeting her, like she was still lost at sea. Adrift, and yet... what was that ringing in her ears?

A nasty blow to the head had her consciousness. As the world around her came back into view, Jael could see the crumpled figure in the sand not far away. Beside her though, beside here is the man that had woken her up. He'd saved her. Why? She coughed-- once, and then again, harder. Turning her head away from him to spit the mixture of blood, sand, and saliva on the ground beside her. Bleeding from her head, her shoulder, her near crushed ankle... it's all she can smell. Can barely even smell the man settled beside as she shivers, crumpled into the sand.

"Thank you for saving me." The words come after a few long moments, fighting to find them through the nausea and the ringing in her ears. She doesn't know why, she doesn't know what his plan is, but it's thanks to this man that she's alive. Though Jael is not typically a trusting creature, he'd had every opportunity to harm her and hadn't taken it, so she'd perhaps allow herself a bit closer to chase away the chill before it settled in her aching, chilly bones.

It only takes a few moments before the girl wakes up. Gil watches her with an intense gaze as she begins to cough. He only scoots slightly away as she leans over to hack up all the blood and sand she'd inhaled. Thanking the heavens that it wasn't all over him, he still doesn't allow his gaze to leave. From what he can see, her condition is perilous. One step away from the edge. For as much of an asshole as he is, he doesn't wish death upon anyone who doesn't deserve it.

He finally lets out a sigh of relief as she thanks him for saving her. A brow lifts in silent regard. Who was she and what was she doing out here alone? She didn't look like a puppy, but she was... tiny. A grumble resounds in his chest as he scoots back in when he feels her roll slightly more toward him. Why didn't he know shit all about healing? Perhaps it was time he did.

With good timing, Urtur arrives. Clasped in his mouth is a bundle of cloth that he helps place upon the open wound over her hip. "Her head," Gil rumbles as he moves to gently nudge her face slightly away from him. "It might hurt, but we have to," his voice is a raspy whisper as he helps Urtur slide the cloth under her chin and then messily tie it around her head so that there is pressure over the wound there too. "We have to get her to the isle," the concern in his voice is stern as he looks at Urtur. Would she die on the way back? Looking back at the girl, he lets out a sigh.

"Can you walk?" Gil asks though he's sure the answer is no. One of her ankles looks to be broken.

"speech"

CODE BY SHELBY

He grumbles at her-- not doing a lot for her confidence about the situation. Still, instead of attacking her further, he's helping her. Jael owes him, frankly owes him more than she can actually wrap her head around in her post-concussion state. She stays close to him, this stranger who seems to have his shit together. An air of authority, or at least, she supposes the creatures around them are her companions. The girl is having a hard time focusing through the fog of the injury.

She hisses at the feeling of pressure over the bleeding wound on her hip, and she can hear his reference... her head. The man's touch on her face, she doesn't have the energy to shy from it. The Isle... was this not an island? Jael isn't sure about the land mass this far out, and frankly, the whole thing has been so disorienting any sense of scale she had was gone.

Shivering, she tries to haul herself to her feet. The front two seemed okay, though the world pitched before her. Putting her last hind leg on the ground though... Jael yelped quietly, then tried to silence the sound in her throat. Looking at the strange man with a wince, she shook her head. Immediately regretting the movement with the recent head trauma, Jael crumpled back over her haunches in the sand. No, it turned out, she couldn't.

Gilgamesh is surprised and quite honestly impressed that the girl tries to stand. As she hauls herself up, he leans back but doesn't move far. One brow is raised as he hears her hold back the strangled cry of pain. He fights to roll his eyes. Women. So stubborn and persistent. Why couldn't she admit that she needed help? Was that so hard? Letting out another sigh, Gil grabs her by the scruff as gently as he can manage and deposits her onto his back. Thankfully she is small enough that she can position herself between his shoulders without fear of falling off.

Rising to his paws slowly so not to pitch her off, he turns to Urtur. "Let us go quickly," he says in still gruff tones before taking off at a lope across the beach toward the water. His wolverine is quick to follow and steadies the raft for Gil as he clambers on. After the recent rains, the wood is slick and sometimes hard to find balance. Once they are situated, he stays standing so that the girl doesn't fall. "Urtur, you'll warm once we're home," he nods his chin toward the isle and his wolverine pushes the raft off into the water with his paws on the edge and begins to paddle them toward home.

"Do you have a name?" Gil asks after a few moments of silence.

"speech"

CODE BY SHELBY

It was hard to admit that she needed help because at any moment, he could decide that it was too much trouble. If it's too much trouble, he can just leave her out here. Though it would be against her own sensibilities, Jael also knows that she can't hold everyone else to her rules. She can't admit it because to admit it, in her own eyes, would be failure.

He grabs her. Jael freezes, but he's taken the time to make sure she won't fall off. He's taken the care to ensure she won't go absolutely flying. With a little whimper of surprise, she knows she needs the help. Still shivering, Jael sinks down into the man's back. Though still dazed, she doesn't know exactly how she's gotten herself into such a strange situation.

"Jael." She finally answers. It felt strange in her own mouth, after all this time. "Where's home?" She's head him speak to his companion, though the words had been hard to process. For now, she won't admit that she's relying on the warmth and protection of a strange man, not to herself at least. Though Jael is well aware she now owes him big time, she has been safe with him for now. Something about the best predictor of future actions, or what have you.

Jael.

For some reason, Gil knew it fit her. He only responds with a hum in his throat. Urtur continues to paddle them home and he lets his mind churn. Thank the heavens he didn't have to explain to anyone who he was bringing home or why. He was the fucking Raid King, he could bring home any helpless soul he wanted. Unlike others, Gil had his own code. No one died on his watch unless they deserved it. As of late, there had been a few intruders that had deserved it. Like the one whose remains lay strewn on the beach. Let some other predator pick him apart. But this girl? She didn't deserve to die.

When she asks, he lifts a shoulder in the direction of the isle that slowly grows in height as they draw nearer. "There," he answers simply as he glances back at her. "It is my home. I claimed it and lead a pack there," his answers are straightforward because frankly, Gil doesn't have time for beating around the bush. "Do you have a home?" He asks purely out of curiosity. Whether or not he would allow her to go home after this would be decided later...

"speech"

CODE BY SHELBY

To live and die by a code of ethics... Jael knows. She knows what it's like to dole out justice that doesn't necessarily make sense to everyone. It doesn't matter. She knows the taste of justice and the sting of its punishment. Jael knows. Justice... and through all of that, here she was, clinging to the back of the raid king. Unwilling to admit that she was savoring the warmth, no, that's something she'd keep to herself.

The isle came into view, and she can see it more clearly as he shifts. He was an alpha... right, that would give him the authority. She does not shrink from this information. Jael grounds herself through him. "What's your name?" Right, she'd forgotten to ask. As for his question... did she have a home? "Not anymore." A sigh, one she couldn't hold back. Couldn't get dramatic or misty over that one, though. "Room for one more on your island?" Jael doesn't like feeling like she owes anyone anything, but... well, she could ask, right?

His name? Ah, yes, he supposed it would be good to know that. "Gilgamesh," he answers as he turns back to watch the isle grow in size. They were close now and while he felt bad for Urtur having to paddle them there, he knew the wolverine would do as told. Perhaps Urtur was his closest non-wolf friend, but those were words to be unspoken until their final days.

Instead, he focuses on the sigh that she releases. Not anymore? What did she mean by that? From the way she sounded, it didn't appear to be a good time to probe for answers. He hums again quietly under his breath, a thoughtful one. Questions could be saved for later. What does surprise him is her next question.

Room for one more? Gil thinks for a moment. Did they have room? He supposed they did. What was one more? She was tiny anyway. Wouldn't be much to feed and keep her warm. Winter was on its way out and soon the humidity of the tropical south would rear its ugly head. He can't help but chuckle a little.

"Only if you can handle the heathens," he replies with humor. Yes, he led a pack of heathens. The less-than-reputable kind. A pack that not everyone favored. He had an inkling to change that view, but for the time being, he wouldn't keep anyone on a tight leash.

"speech"

CODE BY SHELBY

Gilgamesh. It suits him, she decides in that moment. The girl leaves her head rested softly on his shoulder, minding the crystals carefully. Lifting it too much, jostling about really at all, was enough to leave her feeling nauseous. No, couldn't get through all of this just to poke her eye out, or something. There's the inherent fear of rejection that comes with a question like the one she'd left him with, but then, Jael... owes him. She owes him, and she'd be silly to just think he'd be willing to let her go after going through so much.

He doesn't seem so bad. Really, he can't be all bad. All bad was the man that had come after her on the beach. All bad was the band that had taken hold of her home and done what they'd done to do it. Though she wasn't good, she was ethical. That's enough. She can see it in Gilgamesh too. That's enough.

There's a little humor in his tone, and it puts her mind at ease. She relaxes into his back by only a degree, beginning to get a clearer picture of what she's gotten herself into. "I'll be right at home." There was just a little lilt to Jael's voice, showing shades of the personality beneath for the first time. The fog from the concussion would linger for untold time, but she wouldn't depart from herself for long.