[PRP] Bitter Lessons (Nemesis + Reject)

[Tsunake]

When he woke, it was with the disturbing knowledge that he had no idea where he was, or how he'd gotten there. His head pounded so fiercely that the kalona thought he might be ill, the world swaying unsteadily in his eyes. That b***h mare had drugged him! Nemesis surged up so he was no longer laying on his side, then planted his front hooves in the ground--and collapsed as his injured foreleg failed to hold his weight. She hadn't even healed him! Snorting and snarling through bared teeth, the stallion's rage was more than enough to help him power through his weakness.

Breathing more heavily than he would like, he quickly took stock of his physical condition. His leg was burning, and his scarred wing ached more than usual. Several of his feathers had been plucked, to put it mildly, and several deliberate cuts now marred his hide from what he assumed to be blood-letting. There were several bite marks on his tail, as though he had been dragged... which would explain his absolutely filthy condition.

If he ever saw that mare and stallion again, he would kill them.

He was no longer within the swamp, but some wooded area he failed to recognize. He was lucky some scavenger hadn't come to feast upon him--who knew how long he'd been unconscious for. He needed to find water and food, badly. As for his injuries.... Nemesis didn't even want to consider the very real possibility that he might succumb to his wounds and die like some pathetic wretch.

Limping through the dark woods, he was fortunate enough to eventually stumble across a stream. Overwhelmed with thirst, he greedily plunged his muzzle into the cold water. He forced himself to drink slowly, keeping his weight off his injured leg as best he could. Only when his thirst was satiated did he lift his head, trying to get some sort of clue of his surroundings. Too crippled to fly--too crippled to run. He would never be able to hunt like this. If he wasn't able to eat, his strength would continue to wane.

It was hard to feel like a proud member of the Kalona race when it was his own stupidity that might end up killing him.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Someone was hurt.

Reject's ears twisted about as he leaned down to sniff at the ground and study the direction of the periodic hoofprints. Even amid the darkness of the forest, the stallion could see relatively clearly thanks to his glowing gaze; and what he could not see, he could smell upon the wind. He was a well practiced stallion, who spent years of his life tracking down the injured and dying, hoping to give them a new lease on life, or to at least comfort them and grant them a painless crossing if their wounds were too severe. As a healer, it was his duty to care for the body and the soul...

Musso was not with him at present, too heavy with foals to leave their little woodland grotto. As a first-time parent-to-be, he had found himself smothering her with care, and had learned that pregnancy did not equate to helplessness. So it was, he gave her space by continuing his duty surrounding their temporary home, which allowed her time to rest and relax unhindered by his worries--but kept him close enough in case there was actual need. Besides which, his scouting for the ill and hurt also allowed him a chance to ensure he could better protect their borders.

For the most part, the woods was quiet and very few seemed to make their way to such a secluded location. There were deer to hunt, and rabbit, but for the most part soquili were rare indeed. That was beneficial for Musso and their future family, but it did leave Reject feeling helpless--a feeling the unikalona hated.

Today though, his usual walk had him stumbling over the scent of blood-- a mix of old and new. It was not the scent of deer or some sort of prey animal; it was something different, richer. The hoofprints looked large and cloven, similar to his own -- but whether or not that was the source of the blood, or if the stranger had killed another, remained to be seen.

So it was, Reject had quietly been following the trail and periodic tracks. By the time he made it to the source, he could see what appeared to be a kalona stallion drinking deeply from a nearby stream. He saw no sign of a kill, and the stallion appeared to be the source of the blood. Had he been injured in some fight? Was he a threat? Well, any soquili could be a threat when injured and cornered, and kalona...well, Reject knew their kind well.

"You seem to be in need of healing," he finally spoke, though he stayed hidden within the shadows of the woods. "Do not be alarmed, stranger--I am only here to help." His voice was low, almost a rumble, as he gazed out at the red and black stranger. He didn't know exactly what was wrong with him...he couldn't see him clearly, or closely from where he stood; but he would first test the patient's temperament, or at least see what sort of soquili he was dealing with. Not everyone took to him, or trusted him... but Reject was also part-kalona, and very stubborn when he needed to be.

Tsunake

 

[Tsunake]

His ears flattened sharply against his skull as a voice drifted forth from the shadows, downwind from his current position. Nemesis turned towards the stranger, angling his broad body to protect his injured leg. There was no sense in hiding--the other male already knew he was wounded. He was unable to see him well, and the suggestion of help had him snorting loudly. "The last Soquili who offered help had other intentions in mind." And he'd fallen for it like a day old colt. All of a sudden, the weariness crashed into him though he was too proud to let his head droop the way he wanted to. His pride meant very little if it resulted in his death.

"If you mean what you say, so be it. But do not expect to find easy prey here." He growled, baring his sharp teeth while his tail lashed and snapped through the branches of a nearby bush. He was certain he could at least inflict deadly, perhaps permanent injury before he went down. Still, if the other had wanted to ambush him... as much as Nemesis was loathe to admit it, he wouldn't have been able to react in time to protect himself.

Exhaling heavily, the stallion narrowed his red-eyed gaze, trying to pierce the gloom. "Should you be true to your word, you have little to fear from me." A slaughterer of Kalona's children he might be, he thought bitterly, but not one to turn on someone who offered aid.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Reject listened to the other and gave a small shake of his head. "You have had great misfortune, indeed," he spoke. What he said wasn't mocking or patronizing; it was clear the kalona had fallen on plenty of hard times, and to be so cruelly manipulated by the promise of aid was doubly cruel. He did not pity the other, but he did feel for him--just as he felt for all those he came to help. "I promise--I only mean to help. I'll heal what I can, though depending on the extent of injury, it might take some time and multiple sessions," he explained.

He moved slowly, and shook some of his long hair out of his face so Nemesis might better see him. He kept his wings folded against his sides--not that he expected the stranger to be intimidated by him. If anything, Reject himself felt a small amount of alarm on how the interaction would go. He'd been driven away, called out, beaten by kalona and unicorns alike; too much a threat and danger for most soquili to be comfortable around, but not pure enough to be embraced by the healers of the land.

As he neared, he took stock of what injuries he could see. It was clear he was favoring one leg and not the other -- but his wing also seemed to be held in an unnatural position. He hadn't noticed it from a distance, but it was clearer now that he was near. "Is there anything that I should tend to that I can't see?" He asked. Some soquili had old injuries and pain that was not obvious; he didn't just heal open wounds, but could assist in infection, sickness, and pain. He could not always cure old wounds, but he could help ease constant aches or chronic sores.

The stallion didn't look to be in great shape at all -- and he wanted to stop the bleeding and help give the stallion some strength. He'd need to scare him up some game, but could do so once he was more stabalized. Reaching out his neck, Reject gently touched Nemesis with the tip of his horn, and focused on the magic within his blood. He might have been a mixed breed--but a kalona could just as easily exacerbate illness as they could slow it. Years of healing made him just as talented as any unicorn... or so he liked to believe.

Tsunake

LOL Okay so I forget -- what wounds/injuries does he have? I think his leg was in the worst immediate shape / bleeding ... his wing needed work/looked at, and he needs to eat. Anything else he'd see/pick up on by looking him over? I think the leg/wing were physically obvious for Reject to see/notice. :3

 

[Tsunake]

A growl threatened to rumble in his throat at the mention of time. He immediately chided himself. What had he been expecting? A wave of a horn and every injury he'd ever taken would be magically better? At least with help, there was the chance that he would not remain a cripple. "Very well." Nemesis conceded, though immediately stiffened as the stranger stepped forward and better revealed himself. A unicorn--a t least in part. There were no mistaking the wings and horns of his own race. Some unions between unicorn and kalona resulted in insane offspring, and his own hatred of mix-breeds did little to endear him his would-be savior.

Though he put more stake in his own strength and ability than the spirits, Nemesis had to wonder if this was not a test from Kalona himself. Would his pride keep him from accepting the help of one that was not pure, but still bore the traits of Kalona?

"No." His reply was clipped, and though he warily eyed the oddly curved horn as it reached for him, Nemesis did not flinch away. He had trusted one that looked more like a traditional unicorn to aid him and been betrayed. Perhaps it was fitting that he now found himself at the mercy of someone he would have hunted with prejudice only a short time ago.

Uta

His foreleg is badly sprained/swollen right now since he messed it up running recklessly... The wing is pretty scarred up and stiff at this point, possibly still-healing? It's definitely not a fresh wound at all. He has random shallow lacerations all over him, and a pretty nasty bite wound on his tail, but I think that's it!

 

[Uta]

Reject focused on the stallion before him. He would not press the other to ask what had happened, or how he came into such misfortune; it was not his place to know. He'd been making sweeps for weeks of the area they had come to settle in, and for the most part, those he did bump into did not tarry for long, and very few were in actual need of aid. The biggest threat in the area that he had come to figure had been himself. Perhaps that would change with Nemesis being present, or whatever creatures who had caused him harm--but Musso and he knew how to take care of one another, as well as themselves. He wasn't concerned... especially with how old some of the damage appeared to be.

Reject was a quiet worker, and asked Nemesis no further questions. His first concern was the stranger's leg--the wing would need extra work and care, and while the tail looked ugly, he wanted to ensure at minimum Nemesis could walk without being lame. This would at least allow the stallion to move more comfortably, and if he wanted to leave, he could. Unfortunately, while he was certain the leg could be healed, he would want to encourage him to rest. The magic he was supplementing Nemesis with would take time to work its way through the others system. "Though the pain should be eased, I would suggest taking time to actually rest and avoid using it for a few days," he encouraged. He didn't doubt the power of his healing, but he was no god... and honestly, the kalona before him looked like he could use a few days without stress. "I'd like to work with it again in a day or two, if you allow it."

Healing wasn't instantaneous, after all, no matter what the legends claimed. Sometimes it took multiple sessions, and hours of work. Hours that Nemesis might not give him. Hopefully, though, the kalona would feel the benefits of his magic. Even though his focus was Nemesis' leg, any other aches and pains in his body would lessen significantly.

So it was, Reject tended to Nemesis as best he was able. After his leg, he spent some time near the kalona's tail, to begin and encourage its healing, and to stop the bleeding and lessen the wound. It took work to heal the bite, but Reject was determined to at least leave Nemesis with one less wound. The less blood on the wind, the safer for them all. But it was the kalona's wing where Reject focused the brunt of his healing... And it was Nemesis' wing that proved to be more than he could handle. The injury was significant, and worst of all, old. Had he been able to tend to it sooner, perhaps there would be hope, but Reject wasn't sure there was much he could do.

Still, he wasn't a stallion without hope--perhaps if he could keep Nemesis in the area, he could help. "How's that feel?" He asked quietly, dropping his head down to peer over at the stranger with his glowing yellow gaze. "If possible, I would suggest lingering here a few days. I can scare up some game while you rest, so your leg needn't be further strained. A few more days healing and you can be on your way." He didn't want Nemesis to think himself trapped--but hopefully the other would be feeling more himself with a little time.

Tsunake

 

[Tsunake]

He hadn't ever considered how sharp a unicorn's horn could be until this moment. Though the other stallion applied no real pressure, Nemesis could only imagine how easy it would be for that horn to punch through his throat or chest... If his hide twitched slightly, he would make no comment on it. His eyes remained firmly locked upon the stranger, and only a sudden blink betrayed his surprise when the agony in his leg began to steadily subside. So there was truth to the rumors. He experimentally shifted his weight, and was nearly incredulous to find how much better the limb felt. Before, there was no way it could hold his weight. Now... Well, best not to strain it. He didn't reply to the statement, but he saw no sense in leaving and risking what progress had already been made.

Curious and a little less wary than before, Nemesis peered over his shoulder to watch the healing that continued to take place. He felt better than he had in days, and he silently marveled as the wounds on his tail gradually scabbed over before his eyes. Though Kalona's gifts allowed them to inflict and worsen illness, he could not deny this power. His attention subtly heightened when Reject soon began to focus on his wing, not daring to hope. All in all, it took longer than he might have thought--but it only made the work done seem more real.

He moved tentatively, even going so far as to stretch said wings while he shifted his hooves. It ached less than it had, perhaps.... and maybe, given time, it would regain its old mobility back. "Better," He said grudgingly, and the look he gave Reject was now one of consideration rather than pure disdain. The spade of his tail twitched at the thought of being fed like a foal once more, but he managed to hold his tongue. Barely.

"Are you not tired?" He demanded instead. "Surely there is a price to pay." Which led to another question. "Why risk yourself for a stranger?" He continued, his tone fierce but not threatening. It was hard for him to even wrap his head around the concept. Nemesis would gladly give his life for his family and his herd, but to risk oneself for someone who likely would have attacked him on sight not so long ago was almost inconceivable.

And yet, Reject had chosen to offer aid despite the risks.

Uta

 

[Uta]

Reject was, more or less, pleased with the results. The healing had certainly taken a toll, but years of practice had allowed him to learn his limits. He knew when to reserve his energy, and how to push himself. Being a predator certainly helped him in that regard -- he was accustomed to days of walking or hunting down game and prey. With Musso so heavy with foals, he had made sure to bury caches of food for quick meals when fresh game was scarce so he needn't be far in tending to her care. It also helped when, in cases like Nemesis, he might be unlucky on the game trail. Hopefully, that would not be the case this night... But time would tell.

Any sharpness in the kalona's tone seemed to fall upon deaf years. Nemesis had been bristled, snarled at, and demeaned for much of his life, and by plenty of pure kalona. He would have been more surprised had Nemesis acted kindly and welcoming towards him, so a sharp word was nothing. His glowing yellow eyes did turn to peek over at the kalona and he offered a small shake of his head. "There is always a price--it is why I request you linger a few days. I could continue to work on you, but then neither you nor I would not eat and it would take longer for my energy reserves to be replenished. I will sleep well tonight, as I hope you will--but for different reasons." Where Reject would be exhausted and more or less spent from a busy day, hopefully Nemesis would sleep hard from all the healing. "In fact, I would encourage rest while you can. These lands are safe, and your body will hopefully get a boost in its recovery."

Giving a small stretch of his wings, Reject pondered the others question. "As for the risk... there was a need, and I possess the means to help. The world is a hard and cruel place... I would not wish to add to it." Perhaps the kalona would scoff and call him weak or a fool. His father had been disgusted in him, and thought him nothing because of his horn; and yet, the unicorns of the land broke his heart when he yearned to learn their ways, because of his dual rams horns and kalona wings. He could have become bitter, but he instead, he became self-deprecating, with little pride, and even less self-worth. But he had a horn, and every being got hurt -- from regulars to skinwalkers, and every hybrid in between. "Everyone gets injured, after all. It seems a shame not to use a gift when ones been given it."

And with that, Reject slipped away, leave Nemesis with his thoughts.

---- (Small time skip!)

Some time passed, longer than Reject had hoped to be away. His first couple of attempts had the game winning and hurrying away--so onward he continued. Thankfully, luck had finally favored him with a small herd of deer. With a little patience, and a lot of luck, he had been able to pull down an older buck who could not keep up with the rest of the herd. So he'd eaten enough to restore his energy for the next day, and there was plenty more for Nemesis to eat and pick upon over the next few days--including some choice bits reserved just for him.

Dragging the carcass back took far longer. He pulled it up to where Nemesis' temporary territory happened to be, not far from where he had healed him. Dropping the deer, he turned to regard the stranger. "I hope you've a taste for deer," he mused. Some of his patient's had particular taste--but he'd yet to meet a kalona who would turn down fresh deer.

Tsunake

 

[Tsunake]

Nemesis could only snort at the explanation, wrinkling his muzzle... but he didn't scoff or sneer like he undoubtedly would have a few years ago. The stallion remained silent as Reject seemed to melt back into the shadows, quietly thinking over his words. The world was cruel, and it was hard. It claimed those who were weak, and strengthened those that managed to survive. He'd believed this for most of his life. Now, he thought he understood better. Did it make an individual strong to claw their way through life alone? Were he to sire foals, would he abandon them and blame them for weakness if they died?

To lessen the harshness of life seemed a small thing, especially for those who could. Nemesis snorted after a moment, shaking his head to himself. Spirits knew his arrogance had ruled him for too long. There was wisdom in the other's words, and to ignore it would be foolish.

-----

The improvement he'd noticed in his leg was more impressive than he'd assumed it would be, and he'd been tentatively putting weight on it and testing his flexibility. The sound of someone dragging something had his ears pricking immediately... but then it was Reject, dragging the partially eaten carcass of a buck.

To be fed like a foal was humiliating, but he acknowledged that he wasn't able to hunt in this state. The fact that Reject even bothered to share his meal said enough. He said nothing, the scent of the bleeding carcass more than enough to make his mouth water. "I do," He grumbled, pausing to grab a mouthful of meat. He was starving, but kept himself from tearing into the meal like a monster. "Thank you," He said grudgingly, knowing that the halfblood could easily leave him to starve if he wished.

Uta