Citadel heaved a great big sigh as he trudged towards the healers den. He knew that his parents punishments would get more creative, but this one had to take the cake. How many months would he have to give up free time to the infirmary? His father hadn't said. Giving another world weary sigh, so everyone around him knew just how miserable he was, he stopped at the door.

He knocked on the open door, the scent of herbs and cleanliness reaching him from inside. He didn't wait long before a purple wolf trotted to the entrance, her expression condescendingly amused as she spoke. “He's expecting you, he's in his office.” The wolf directed him, raising a paw to indicate exactly where the office was.

He sighed again, and didn't bother responding to her. She was only a slave after all. Utterly beneath his notice. He trudged through the large open space and knocked again. This time at the office door to wait for Oleander.

Does this make him a kind of Uncle? He didn't know how he felt about being turned into a babysitter by consequence, but his Warlord said so and Ignita had put it so sweetly he wouldn't dream of saying no to either of them anyway.

The boy had a rebellious streak a mile wide, and his mama was concerned he wouldn't understand the genuine consequences of fights. Well lucky for the kiddo he already had a patient in a bed in critical condition after a fight gone wrong. You might as well throw him in the deep end since that was what it sounded like his parents wanted. Might as well ask the trauma specialist how to traumatize someone fast.

A soft knock at the door from the clinic turned his ear, he could softly hear the voice of Vesper through his office door. Good timing, he was almost done with this poultice.

The knock came at his door and the Healer got up and opened the door.

The young boy was already half his size. A big kid with the strength of a bear. He had kept an eye on him since he checked on the kiddos periodically but having him stand there expectantly was a different thing altogether. The young man of Oleander, prematurely aged by his own childhood traumas gave the pampered prince a mischievous smile.

Oleander was a lean warrior, a huge tiger swipe scar ran down his leg, and a long slash scar through his fur over his heart.

"All right Cit, let's be honest. We both know why you're here and we both know you don't wanna be. You wanna be the biggest strongest guy around, right? Well, then you gotta know the consequences of what happens when shit goes sideways." Ignita can tan his hide later for teaching the boy swear words. He was still a teen, he didn't care.

"You might be cleaning a few bandages and beds with Vesper eventually but let me introduce you to my friend here first." He waved Citadel over to a nearby bed. "Paws to yourself first, I'll not have him fight off infections as well as his wounds." He mentioned seriously. He didn't know if this one was going to make it honestly. An infection would take them out for sure.

The patient had three massive bite wounds over their shoulder, neck, and hip, along with some severe slashes over their face. The skirmish had not been a friendly one. All of these wounds were wrapped carefully.

Oleander placed the paste aside and began carefully unraveling a blood-soaked bandage to replace it and apply a fresh poultice. He kept an eye on Citadel to see his reaction.

"Speech!"

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Citadel blinked in surprise at the open honesty from the white healer. The Trauma Specialist laid it all out before them, leaving nothing in the shadows. Yes. He absolutely wanted to be the strongest. That need to prove himself drove him into a lot of trouble, though he wouldn't easily admit to it.

Oleander led him towards a bed, and he raised a paw to poke at the other wolf, before the white wolf's words sunk in and he pulled his paw back. Right. Probably best not to get off on the wrong paw moments after starting this... apprenticeship.

Citadel instead leaned forward, curiously studying the badly wounded wolf. He clearly wasn’t squeamish about their wounds, and looked at the damage without any hesitation. Sadly, most of it was already wrapped, so he couldn’t see the full extent. After a moment however, Oleander pulled the wrapping back and started to apply something stinky. “Is that muscle?” Citadel asked curiously, pointing with his nose towards the wound. Wondering if Oleander would teach him all about the insides of this man.

"Speech"

The boy didn't seem to balk at the sight of the patient who was thankfully blissed out on some pain meds. As Ollie unwrapped and applied the paste, Citadel asked if that was a muscle.

"Well, sort of, there's a layer of fat between the skin and the muscle, and on top of the muscle is a thin layer of fascia that keeps things together, you're seeing the fat layer here." He wrapped that back up and unwrapped a new spot. "This guy had a really dangerous fight. I'm not sure if he'll live through these wounds so we have to be really careful." He unwrapped another area that had a line of stitches over it. "If these wounds get infected, he probably will die." He said quietly. Trying to measure the boy's reaction.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Citadel took in what the healer was telling him and wondered if this knowledge would be useful for fighting. If you knew where or how to cut to get under the muscle… that would be beneficial, right?


Oleander went on to explain that the wolf might not live through his injuries. Which sparked another range of thoughts for the boy. Perhaps not the ones that Ollie expected. And Cit… Cit didn't know not to voice them yet. “Can you show me the muscle underneath the fat and fascia? or do we have to wait for him to die first?” He wondered, eyes moving from the man's newly covered wounds back up to Oleanders face.

Ahhh... There it was. The reason the Warlord and Consort thought their son should have some healing lessons.

"Hmmm... Sounds like you don't care if this guy lives or dies." Oleander mused mildly. Continuing to treat his patient as if the boy hadn't just admitted he had a darker nature. He wondered if Vesper's abusers had a similar streak to them... He wondered if this was truly nature or nurture. He would have assumed that a child of the gentle Consort would have more of a softness to them.

He thought of his father, and what he might say. About the fine line, Oleander was to walk as the lead healer and Trauma Specialist of the entire pack.

"Huh, It might be really hard to have many allies, or friends if you are unkind to the people around you. If we don't care whether someone lives or dies, then who's going to trust us with their life? With our secrets? Do you think your dad cares about just your mama and your family? Or does he care about everyone in the pack?" He asked. Continuing to work, as if this was just a bantering of the finer points of bandaging a wound. He wondered if he could catch the eye of Vesper and exchange a silent look with her. What did she think about this turn of events? How did she think he was handling it?

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

Oleander's words seemed more an observation than an accusation, and Citadel didn't yet realise the trouble he veered towards. So he nodded his head “I don't.” He agreed, but since Ollie had felt compelled to make the statement, Citadel felt compelled to explain himself a little more. “I don't know him. It’s your duty as lead healer to do everything you can to save him, but by your own asses--” he still struggled sometimes with big words ”-ssesment you don't think he'll make it. Wouldn't you use his death to better understand why to further the pack's knowledge?” He tilted his head as he looked at the older wolf. His words utterly detached from the dying man as he spoke of his death like he wasn't right there.

Citadel didn’t have anything to do with his hands, since so far Oleander seemed to be wanting him to observe. So he did. He watched what the healer was doing, and listened to what he had to say. He just so happened to disagree with his mentor. Was that a bad thing? “If this man was dying on the battlefield, would you rather I was crying over him, or doing everything in my duty to save him? Just because I don’t know him, or care if he lives or dies, doesn't mean I don’t understand my duty.” his brow furrowed, he’d never really talked about things like his before. Hadn’t been forced to address or face his ideas vs that of others.

"Speech"

Oleander nodded sagely, easily. As if it was all a matter of course and maybe even a valid argument. Mainly to keep the boy engaged.

"I have to do my best to do what I can to save every patient that comes to me. No matter who it is, or what ails them. That is my duty. It is not my job to discern who lives or dies, my job is to give everyone the chance to survive."

He gave Citadel the bowl of paste as he re-bound the patient and began unwinding a different wound.
"Here, very gently apply the paste there with this brush." He said guiding the boy to a laceration on the spine of the patient.

"No one would trust me to heal them, and in turn, I couldn't trust them to take care of me, if I got to decide who would live or die. It's not about crying over someone, it's about showing others that you would be bothered if they died or even just got hurt." He said matter-of-factly. He could see how being a child of the weepy Ignita could be translated as crying over someone when they care about them.


"Speech!"

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Citadel frowned, wondering what part of his words were being misunderstood. Sometimes it was hard to be a child, and know you have big ideas and no idea how to express them. He frowned heavily, and applied the paste where he was told to. Spreading it carefully across the wound with the brush. He could be a little bit of a perfectionist sometimes, and it showed in the careful strokes. It was the only way he was able to walk in a straight line with his oversized paws, after all.

Finally, when he was done, he turned and looked up at the older wolf, and shook his head. “I don’t know where I explained wrong. I agreed that it’s your duty to do everything you can to save him. I never said that you should decide if he lives or dies. Only that if you can’t save him, his death could still serve another purpose.” He said at last.

"Speech"

"Ahh yes, I see. Well, I didn't say that their death wouldn't serve another purpose. But while they are alive and under my care we have to be mindful about how they feel. A patient's mood can affect how well they heal. Even if they are asleep. We shouldn't have discussions about their body's use after they are dead while they are alive, because it could make them heal slower, or give up trying to heal. Which wouldn't be giving them the best chance to heal now would it?" Ollie replied as if they were two fully accomplished colleagues arguing the ethics of patient care.

"So while someone is alive, we need to show them that we would be bothered if they get hurt or die. Including the Warlord, not just a healer. Do you think The Warlord would have much of a pack following him if the wolves didn't trust him to keep them alive? If they couldn't trust him to help them if they needed it?" Ollie mused watching the boy meticulously coat the wound. He nodded and began wrapping the wound. They were almost done. Good thing this patient wasn't just sleeping but knocked out entirely, or this conversation wouldn't be helping their chances that well.

He opened the last bandage and motioned for Citadel to coat it in the paste too.

"Speech!"

Code © Skelle/Witchdogtor DO NOT USE WITHOUT PERMISSION

There weren’t many adults who would take the time to really consider his words, and despite the mild underlying argument of the topic, Citadel realised he was enjoying himself. Enjoying the debate, as they talked over the dying man. “I wouldn’t care.” He mused, but he said it more quietly, not entirely sure if it was true. It might well just be puppy stubbornness. Still, he seemed to take Oleander's words under consideration at last.

He fell silent, his expression one of concentration as he coated the paste on the last wound. “When do you know if-” he glanced at the patient, and then at his mentor “-when, they’ll live.”

"Speech"

Ollie tilted his head at the lad when he mused that he wouldn't care if the patient died. They both fell silent for a moment as they finished the last wound and Ollie wound him up. Citadel asked another question, "Well, that's not something I can control or know. There are usually some general timeframes for healing, but its honestly up to the individual's own body to determine how fast it heals." He cleaned up and then waved the boy into his room for a more private conversation. He started a cup of some berry and honey tea that would be sweet and something kids typically liked. And slipped a little chamomile in there too but it wouldn't taste like much to the boy. He had some himself.

He placed the tea in front of him and sat down, leaning back.
"So tell me Citadel, why don't you care if someone dies?" He asked in his typical casual Ollie way.

"Would you care if someone in your family dies?" He asked after, blowing on his tea to make it cooler and taking a sip.

"What do you care about?" Ollie wondered, laid back as if they were just buds having a drink and the answers didn't matter.

"Speech"

Oleander got up and moved away from the patient, Citadel wiped his paws, and followed suit. Knowing he ‘belonged’ to Oleander for as long as his parents deemed it to be so. He sat and waited while his mentor brewed the tea and placed it in front of him. He took a sip, wincing at the heat. Best to leave it for a moment.

Oleander restarted the conversation, and Citadel sighed again. This time, deeper and longer than before. It really was a tragedy to be a misunderstood kid. “I meant I wouldn’t care if you talked over me.” He muttered quietly into his tea, knowing the comment had been in angst in the first place.

“Of course I would, but if you're caring about everyone all the time, that sounds like a lot of work. I care about my family, even my dumb sister that steals my stuff.” He was starting to sound like a whining kid, but he didn’t feel Ollie was being very fair on him.

"Speech"

Ollie threw back his head and slapped his forehead with a paw! "OH! That's what you meant! Well, I think that makes sense! The whole talking over someone like that is just general practice for most healers. It's not really about what the patient cares or not about in that instance." He was emphatically nodding his head as if the world suddenly made a lot more sense and Citadel was speaking some honest truths. He took a sip of his tea again and kept nodding.

"Oh, man! Sisters!" Ollie agreed, "Sometimes they're the worst! Getting all the attention too!" He shook his head as if he couldn't believe how awful Citadel's life truly was. He could just see it.

"Your dad really makes caring about a lot of people all the time easy, doesn't he? So you care about your family, of course, and you care about your stuff..." He put a paw on his chin now as if in theatrical thought, "I like pulling pranks on my brother Wylan, I care about him a lot. What else do you care about? Maybe we can see if we can fit it into some of your training here!" he offered.

"Speech!"

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Citadel’s tail flicked behind him. He felt like Oleander was mocking him, but he didn’t have the experience or understanding to put his paw on exactly why he felt that way. The leading questions seemed just a little odd… or was he just imagining it? He wasn’t sure enough to say anything, so he sat there for a moment in silence instead, drinking his tea as Oleander spoke of annoying sisters.

He shrugged at Ollie’s question, before sighing and putting some thought into finding an answer. “I want… to be better, stronger. I like doing things well. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” He volunteered. He didn’t always put that to practice, especially in a lot of areas in his life. Except when it came down to fighting. He really liked the feeling of victory.

"Speech"