She had one not one, but both fights in the raid. Robin felt pride in her chest from what she had accomplished. But… with the raid done and resources seized, there was something else she needed to tend to. She had seen her father struggle, losing his match as the wound on his back tore open. It was still bleeding as they headed for home. She wouldn't approach while they were in the company of others. But now that they were back she sought out where he had made his den. She padded right in, addressing him with a frown. "So, are you going to let me treat your injury, dad?" Her words weren't angry, not like before. She had no reason to bend to his expectations now. She had proved to herself what she was worth. No, now there was only the worry for her remaining parent… and the hope of patching up the relationship they had.

He lay on his side in his den, not really wanting to move much anymore as the wound on his back bled. It had torn open with the fighting at the raid, and as a result of the sudden tearing and searing pain, he had lost his focus and lost his fight. He was upset, yes, but the loss was his own doing. He had gone into it before he had fully healed, and he'd take accountability for it. He shouldn't have gone, but he wanted to continue to see how his children did in their raids and suffice to say...he was proud. Rivin had won her battles, and Diablo had won his fights, too. They were home now, and he had gone straight for his den promptly after their return while the others went to celebrate. He started to close his eyes in an attempt to try and get some rest, but even if the world was silent or if he was dead tired, the pain radiating from his wound would prevent him from getting any sort of rest without treatment. He tried to power through it without complaint, but he had to admit...this shit hurt a lot . He took a shaky breath, ear turning toward the entrance to his lair as Rivin walked in, her question posed and hung between them for several heartbeats. He was too proud to ask or admit that he needed help. But it was clear as day that he needed it, and Rivin was as hot-headed as he was...even if he told her no and to go tend to others who needed it, he knew there was likely to be an argument about it. So he shifted his body enough to allow access to his back as he looked at her. "Whatever makes you happy, kid." He murmured. "Ignis"||"Blödhgarm"

Her father gave in. Proud as he was, even he had to realize that he needed help. As he shifted his body to allow her access to his back, the antlered girl moved closer, furrowing her brow. “Making sure you don’t risk infection on such a large wound by pushing too fast would make me happy.” Her tone had become quieter as she sat by his side, setting down her back before she started to bring out the herbs she would need. “...You hurt all of us, you know.” He probably didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but Rivin didn’t care. She was going to be heard. “I won’t speak for Aresenn and Diablo, but your disappointment cut deeper than any wound, especially when I’ve only ever cared about making you proud.”

The herbs were spread out, and for a moment Rivin stared at them as her ears fell.  “Dad… I… I need to tell you something else, too.” She reached for the water skin, pouring it over some moss so she could clean up the edges of the wound.  “I had a black out session… when I came to, I had this dead cat at my paws. I tried to swim back to the main island… and almost drowned. If it wasn’t for Calico Jack, I would have.” Her gaze flicked back to Ignis, sadness within them. The fire, the anger she had… all replaced with hurt. How could she remain mad? Ever since she had been a pup, she had idolized her father and looked up to him. He was her idol… the wolf she had wanted to be like when she became an adult.

“I want to make you proud, but I don’t want to kill myself trying to do so.” She moved the moss ball to his back, swallowing hard. The last raid, before her promotion, she had won both of her fights. Was that enough to earn his approval…? Her paw shook as she lightly pressed against the wound, not wanting to irritate his back worse than it already was.

"Speech," 'Thought.'

"Talk" Walk He bit back a retort at her words, though he couldn't help the eyeroll as she came in to tend to him. Great. Like he hadn't been chastised enough in his life! “...You hurt all of us, you know.” His good ear twitched when she said that. Though he wasn't quite sure what she meant just yet, he was ready to spit back a rather...heated reply, but she continued before he could. “I won’t speak for Aresenn and Diablo, but your disappointment cut deeper than any wound, especially when I’ve only ever cared about making you proud.” Ah fuck. She was going to talk about feelings? That...wasn't exactly his forte. Though deep down inside, he supposed he could relate. He swore he had been in a very similar position back when he was a kid, trying his best to please his father who just didn't seem to be pleased with anything. Was he turning into Elias? Honestly, he had blocked out alot of his childhood, and only really remembered Abaven, and everything that came after that. He remained quiet, however, as she worked and talked. He dared not look at her yet. Or say anything. He didn't know what to say. Not yet at least. He'd wince as she touched the edges of his wound, listening to her as she told him about her blacking out, nearly drowning, getting saved by Sparrow's kid...wanting to make him proud. He heaved a big sigh, closing his eyes as he contemplated pretending like he'd fallen asleep so he wouldn't have to answer. But he couldn't bring himself to ignore what she was saying. Had she figured it out yet that they weren't exactly...normal? That they likely had cursed blood? He wanted to sit up to say something, but when he moved, his back hurt, and she was still working on him. So he remained where he was. "I am sorry that you feel that way." And before she could say anything to chew him out, he continued. "But I am proud of you. You have been working hard...bettering yourself...that's more than I can say for Diablo...and myself." Diablo, despite getting chewed out over and over, just didn't fucking get it. But Rivin and Aresenn? They seemed to be doing well, all things considered. Or as well as they could be with what they were plagued with. "I know you're struggling. And it didn't help when I ignored the needs of you and your brothers when I went off in a fruitless search for your mother and brother." In that field, he had definitely failed all of them. He should've known better than to repeat a mistake. Gallivanting off and leaving his first litter to fend for themselves instead of sticking around to raise them the way he should've. He lowered his head onto his forepaws, looking up at the ceiling. "I'm...glad your friends with Jack. Maybe he'll bring you a sense of normalcy in your life...you seem to be fond of each other." He commented almost absentmindedly.

Being emotional wasn’t something either of them were the best at. Rivin tried to hide behind her work now, the wound cleaned up now, needing the application of medicine. But Ignis’ words had her soften up. The words she had hoped to hear. She gave a relieved sigh, shoulders relaxing. “I’m… I’m trying to.” Because of Gil, because of Jack. Wolves who believed in her. Wolves that gave her a reason to be better here. But as she began to chew up the herbs she had prepared for the poultice, her father continued to speak. It was the closest thing to an apology, an acknowledgement of how his absence had affected her. Affected her siblings. Rivin gave a small nod, spitting the medicine out, bracing for him to wince in pain. The wound was pretty raw, after all.

“I was angry about that at first.” Rivin confessed. “But… when you chewed all of us out… you did say something that made sense. If it was me, Diablo, or Aresenn, you would have done the same. It wasn’t favoritism… It just… It was what it was.” She carefully began to spread the medicine across his back. “I hate mom for leaving, for taking our brother. For… for hurting all of us.” And that meant him too. It lead to some younger angst, as had his absence. But… none of them were perfect, were they? A huffed chuckle left her lips.  “We’re all a bit fucked up.” No fault, no accusations, it was simply the truth.

The poultice was a mess, sticky and wet, but it would be better to cover the injury and hopefully prevent it from cracking and bleeding more. Maybe get the damn thing to scab again so it would heal and scar. “I am too. He’s the reason I gave Gil a chance.” She looked up at her dad then. “He means a lot to me. He’s a dear friend, someone I can count on. A reason to be better.” She shuffled. This was awkward. “We just have to keep trying to be better.” Her gaze flicked back to the medicine she was spreading. “I’m sure this stings, but once the wound properly closes it won’t hurt as bad reapplying it.”

"Speech," 'Thought.'