[ P ] A Little Bit of Kindness

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ith the incoming prisoners, there was a lot going on in the castle. From the soldiers needing assistance and aid, Calla had her paws full. The time she had spent fixing them up was a lot for her, but she loved every second of it. There were some of the prisoners that really needed tending to. It would be terrible if they had passed away in their care. What kind of message would that send to the Jacobites? Eventually they would need to come home. How long could the war go on for? It was unreasonable, and she had never really spoken to a Jacobite to understand why they felt the way they did, why things were so bad they would commit crimes of treason. Calla had been warned about dealing with the Jacobites and over the years she had worked on various languages, so that she may learn how to help more and more that might need her.

Calla was not afraid of the traitors, and really she just thought they might have been misled or confused as to why they acted as they did. She believed there was good in everyone. The silver-coated wolf made her way towards the dungeons. Immediately, she was stopped by some guards making double and triple sure that she knew exactly what danger she was putting herself in. "I can assure you, I am very capable of performing my duties without being harmed. If you bring guards to follow me, I will not be able to properly assist the patient." "He's a danger to you! They are monsters!" Calla shook her head softly, "there is good in all, even if it is covered by other things. Trust me, if there is danger, I will call out. But I fear that if anyone comes with me, there will not be any help to be given or accepted."

After speaking with the guards and convincing them to let her go deeper into the caverns of the dungeon, she made her way to a very dark cell. The whole place was dark down here, but it was possibly worse right here - maybe from the position of the sun. It was hard to tell, but she hoped it was not always like this. That would be simply dreadful. She approached the bars, taking a deep breath, and shoving any doubts deep inside of her. "Excuse me sir, I have come to assess your wounds and help you heal up."

@Raith

code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

He had hardly slept from the throbbing, stabbing pain that kept crawling its way along his hips and up into his back though he managed to stop the flow of tears if only to be strong in the presence of his dear sister. It seemed she was having an easier time than him as he watched over her sleeping form, meditating the best he could to each breath she’d make, a steady metronome for him to focus on away from his situation and allowed him to find some peace. His head gently rested on her to shield her and keep her safe under him. Ears would flick on his head from the occasional step of guards or someone in another cell shuffling around or complaining which only made him realize he was far from reaching the meditation that he could normally achieved without much trouble.

It couldn’t blank out from the world and let the fae take hold of him, to do as they normally did in easing his thoughts and tribulations. Maybe it was a sign the fae weren’t here in the Mainlands, maybe it was why the two different worlds could never be at peace with one another, why so many Mainlanders shunned the thought of them altogether. They had chased away the very deities of the land and that fact made his skin crawl and his ears pin. He’d prefer harmony, a peace among all earth’s creatures but maybe it just wasn’t destined to be.

His mind drifted to the little fae caught in the web in the fae’s sanctuary not long ago, when that strange boy had shown up and fled after calling him a toad. Taking in a breath, maybe it had been a sign he was going to be caught and not let free. A warning long before it had happened and he hadn’t heeded it. He had thought it a sign to save Roisin from the prejudice built around her from father after her return home but maybe that hadn’t been the case afterall. He stirred from his meditation, his brow scrunching as he opened his ruby eyes back to the real world.

It was a warning for all of them and he had read it all wrong. He wanted to curse but didn’t wish to wake Searla, keen on letting her keep her peace while she recovered from her own injuries, only able to help her so much here, not that he was much of a healer himself. He knew there were herbs that could help them both in their agony but there was no getting to them.

All thoughts would be chipped away when a voice clanked along the walls, one with a language that felt like gibberish to his ears but would still catch his attention. Lifting his head from warm embers, he would turn it to the source at the entryway of their cage, staring at the beast on the other side with a heat building in his gaze, the only thing stopping him from showing the woman malice immediately was his attempt to decipher her code. Help. He knew that word but the rest was a difficult translation that would make him growl with uncertainty of what she wanted. Carefully he would get up with much struggle, biting back the whines that wanted to come out as he staggered with his lame leg doing nothing for him to help. It would be a clearly visible chore for him to lift from the ground as he hobbled, having gotten a little better at moving from adjusting to moving around with it for a few days but it did not help with the pain.

A snarl peeled back his lips; a posture of protection clear in his pose as he kept his sister out of the stranger's view. If she hadn’t noticed her, he’d prefer to keep it that way as he used his large frame to make her invisible. “Help?” he echoed, the word hardly matching his northern accent. "Cad é? Trí mé a mharú? Ní thabharfaidh mé an sásamh duit."(What? By killing me? I won’t give you the satisfaction.) He had heard the Imperials slaughtered their prisoners, even those of their own fold, making him rather far from believing this woman was here to do anything other than that.

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@Calla

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ust as she had been warned, she was met with aggression. But really, what else would be normal for a prisoner? He was hurt, likely in a lot of pain, and on top of all that, he was protecting another locked in his cell with him. He spoke a common language for a remark to what she had said, but after that, it was an angered sputtering of a language she had only heard a paw full of times before. Trying to think back on the dialect of it, and which one it could possibly be, Calla reached into the back of her mind and riffled through the thesaurus of other languages she had been studying. Unfortunately, while she read and remembered some of the words, it was rare an opportunity arose for her to be able to speak it with another - especially one as fluent as this pained male before her. She refused to hold it against him. "Gabh mo leisgeul.."1 The way that she spoke did not seem as though she was very comfortable speaking this language, but she would try her hardest to let him know that he was not in any danger in her presence.

"Do charaid, uhh.."2 trying to find the right words, Calla closed her eyes for a moment. "Cuideachd gort?"3 She wished that her speech was better, and she hoped that she was proving she was here to actually help them, not some messenger of death. Soft green eyes looked to the prisoners, feeling sorry for them in their conditions. The least she could do was to heal their wounds, not wanting to add anymore discomfort to their stay here. "Leig leam do chuideachadh, is urrainn dhomh slànachadh."4 She hoped that by speaking in this way, he would at least allow her to take a look and see exactly what she could do for him. Or the both of them, really. "Mas e do thoil e?"5 She moved closer to the bars, as a show of faith. If he wanted to reach through the iron bard and hurt her, she was close enough to do so.

Translation:
1. My apologies..
2. Your friend..
3. Also hurt?
4. Let me help, I can heal.
5. Please?

@Raith

code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

His gaze would narrow when she started speaking in his native tongue, brow twitching slightly with irritation. Had he been in better condition he might have paced along the bars with anxiety but instead he would find himself stuck in one place on the inside looking out at this shadowy woman just out of arm's reach. Despite his aggression, he didn’t wish to harm her, he never was an entity of violence, however, if it could get them free he might snag her for a chance to escape. Thing was, he had little hope she had a key to open this cage, having not seen her guarding the corridors at all like the other militia that inhabited this concrete and cobble tunnel.

Nostrils flared with exasperation knowing such a thought, should he move it forward would cause him more trouble than help, placing potentially a darker sentence on his shoulders than just rotting down here. His conscience also could not fare well, making his anger simmer on the outside but on the inside he was still battling with himself, starting to think maybe he should wait till he could move better to consider getting out of here. There was no getting back to the Highlands how he was right now, not when it was just them. He’d be a liability for both of them.

His gaze would flicker toward the stranger, coming out of his thoughts as she motioned toward Searla, finding his lip curling a little again, far from pleased she had noticed her at all. He was hesitant to respond to her inquiries, feeling like it could be a trap of sorts to use against him shortly if he stated the girl with him was anything to him at all. "Cad a dhéanann sé ábhar a thabhairt duit má tá sí nó nach bhfuil?"(What does it matter to you if she is or isn’t?) he countered with a coldness, allowing ice to chill his vocals. His tail would lash as she claimed herself a healer, it was hard to believe the nobles would care enough to send one and with her poor hold on the language, he wouldn’t put it passed them to have just sent her to gather intel.

Hostility within his posture would lessen rapidly as she moved closer, allowing her face to come into the light so he could see her and it would seem close enough for him to touch her. Crimson would scan over her beautiful face but beauty didn’t make her any less lethal. It was her eyes that drew his attention, meeting those pastel olives, starting to wonder if she was blind but the way they moved and focused would make him think otherwise. Letting out a drawn sigh at her pleading, he’d creep closer with suspicion. Rather than agree or disagree, he would test that faith as he extended his neck so his head could weave past the bars till his lips would brush against her uninvited.

Would she become defensive, hold her ground, attack him? He waited patiently. So close up, she’d likely be able to see the tear stains from many hours of crying from pain.

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@Calla

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hen the male had responded to her in his defensive tone, she knew it would not be easy to help the both of them. She was working hard to build the trust in him, with just her words. She could do little to enforce that she meant no harm. She was here to make them feel better, to feel a sense of safety behind this terrible prison. They did not deserve to be in pain while they were forced to carry out their sentences here. "Tha e cudromach.."1 She tried to think through her brain quickly what the right words were. "Cha bu chòir dha a bhith ann am pian."2 She spoke matter of fact, and was not sure how that would be handled by the male before her. But he was set in his ways, and she was in hers. She took a deep breath, and as she waited to see what he would do, now that she was in the light, she calmed her beating heart. With a soft touch of his nose to hers, she gave a soft smile, a chuckle of sorts. But now was not the time to be having any sort of fun. "Tapadh leat."3 The fact that he could have acted violently, but he chose not to - it was progress in her mind.

She pulled her muzzle from the bars and looked to the side where the guards were. "Let me in this cell, at once." The guard came down the hall, a look of displeasure on his face as he opened the cell door for her. She walked inside, moving not towards the couple, but against the far wall. ""Thank you sir, you may go." She told the guard as she watched him close the door and locking her inside. This was a very big step for her, but if she was to help them both, she would need to take risks as well. Once the guard was out of sight again, she turned her eyes to the pair and lowered herself to the floor, showing submission and respect to him. "'S e Calla an t-ainm a th' orm."4 She knew that she could shout if there was any danger, but she had faith in this stranger that he would not harm her. He was very protective of the female beneath him, and for this, she felt a sense of safety in his presence.

Translation:
1. It matters..
2. Neither should be in pain.
3. Thank you.
4. My name is Calla.

@Raith

code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

His ears twitched back as she argued her own opinion and he was in no mood to play such a game of if she was being honest or not in her words, finding it too tiring and if he learned anything about Mainlanders is that they were very vocal. Acting like their too uppercrust to even have to poop or what they did just turned into money. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration but their opinions seemed to be the only thing that mattered to them and not those outside of their culture otherwise maybe this war wouldn’t even have had to happen in the first place. The laws penalized the Highland culture just as much as at times it took away some of the superstitions that made no sense; not believing that witches were inherently bad himself but he knew others of his kind saw them as evil. He could give the King one piece of gratitude, the fact he went to great lengths to keep the College whole instead of dismantling it but that didn’t make up for everything else he had done.

Those thoughts continued on as his face got closer to this stranger’s, waiting for her to do something but she never did. Brows furrowed when she only seemed amused by the touch, perhaps because she had an army behind her if he had done anything vile but she hadn’t done anything yet to warrant his fangs. It was to be seen if that would change. His jaw on a spring loaded hinge, anticipating her every move, waiting for her to slip up and show her true colors. The thanks would throw that off a little, astonishing him to say the least. Why?

Just as he was giving her the benefit of the doubt, she’d call to someone in her native tongue and the fur along his shoulders rose with anger, feeling like this was a trap afterall. The sight of the guard made him want to lunge, peel past the bars before he could so much as touch the cell but instead he withdrew from the gate to stand over his sister far more literally, ready to take any attacks that might come their way. Hackles rose when the gate was opened, expecting something far more aggressive only for his face to contort into astonishment when the large statured woman was the one to enter, confused all the more. It didn’t last for long, his eyes shifting to the opening, temptation twitching his toes to take advantage of it and escape. How would he do that with Searla asleep?

Before he could configure anything further, the escape route was shut. An exasperated huff flared his nostrils as his rubies shifted to the third body in the room that had remained behind. A growl only became audible for a second before she suddenly submitted to him, making his ears pin. Was this woman absolutely insane? He’d stare at her for a long while, observing her as she offered him a name and he relayed nothing of the same. Just because she was putting herself in a vulnerable position doesn’t mean he trusted anything she did in here and he was going to make that clear as he moved toward her with his leg dragging along with him, lowering his head to shield his neck and to grant her a onetime warning. "Ní dhéanfaidh tú teagmháil le mo dheirfiúr, nó beidh tú i gcruth níos measa ná ceachtar againn. Cé go bhféadfadh sí roinnt luibheanna a úsáid le haghaidh pian, tá a fhios agam go leor chun a fháil amach an bhfuil tú ag nimhiú dúinn nó nach bhfuil. Tuigim?"(You will not touch my sister, or you’ll be in worse shape than either of us. Though she could use some herbs for pain, I know enough to know if you are poisoning us or not. Understand?) His tongue was coated in malice and distrust, but it didn’t hide the tears that brimmed his lids from the pain of movement.

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@Calla

E

ven with all of the efforts she was putting forth to allow the male to trust her, he did not. She was not sure he would ever trust her, and though that was upsetting - what was even more upsetting, was the fact that she wanted to help him, help the female so badly, and it seemed he would not allow her to come near either of them. That was fine for now, and she hoped that should she be able to make him pleased enough by the offering of herbs and plants she did have. She carried a small satchel around her neck. It was nothing special, just enough room to hold the plants and herbs she might need in a situation like this. It would be hard to tell which herbs and plants to offer, as she was not able to really know or see what was ailing them both. He had been crying, that much was true - but she didn't have anything that could repair a broken heart. Her own heart ached for him, unable to imagine what they had been through and would continue to go through.

Slowly, she removed her pouch from her form and placed it gently on the ground, so that she may rifle through it and try to think of the best remedy. The first thing that she pulled from the bag was Italian Aster - a plant known for helping with inflammatory issues. If there was some sort of infection and inflammation from their wounds, it would surely help. Next came the Mugwort - when eaten would work as an antibiotic. That would also help any infection as well. The last thing she pulled from her bag was Corn Poppy - common use for mild pain reliever. It does not have the addictive traits of other pain relievers, and can assist some in being able to sleep - if they suffer from insomnia. With these three offerings pulled out, she named them aloud as she pushed them gently towards him. "Aster Eadailteach, Mugwort, crom-lus arbhair."1 She was not going to tell him how to use them, unless he asked her. She didn't want to seem as though she was forcing him to do anything. Just allowing her to be in this cell, and allowing her to give some sort of aid was enough for her in the moment. She really wished she would be able to access any wounds in the near future. "Ma tha ceistean agad, cuidichidh mi.."2

Her eyes drifted to the female, curious as to what was hurting on her. If there were any broken bones she was not equipped to help that right now. She would be required to get more supplies, potentially revisit another day. The thought of giving the pair anxiety for the simple reason of having to go back and forth was not something she wanted to force them to feel. Calla diverted her eyes to the far side of the cell, not wanting to show any signs of hostility to either one of them. She lowered her head on her crossed forepaws and waited for some sort of sign from the pair, or just the male himself.

Translation:
1. Italian Aster, Mugwort, Corn Poppy
2. If you have questions, I help..

@Raith

code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

His gaze remained level on her, watching her every movement as she searched the contents of her little baggy, the scent slowly shadowing his senses of anything else down here. It was pleasant, relaxing. A pinch of what was on the outside, the beauty of nature and he was slowly being lulled by it as his focus shifted up to her face again, still uncertain if she could actually see with those pastel eyes of hers. Silently, his head would tilt back down when she started to speak again, examining the flora of which she decided upon was best for the both of them and he sighed at the names of each. None were poisons, though what each did specifically he couldn’t say for certain as he was no true healer by any stretch of the imagination, only knowing about as much as a field guide might tell you.

Still, it was enough to soften his gaze as her attention remained as far away from him as possible to appear submissive and far from a threat. A low contemplative buzz rolled in his throat, drinking her in for as long as he would allow in silence, not moving toward the herbs or applying them at all. It was best for the both of them if Searla stayed asleep right now, she was the spitfire of the two that would more likely attack first and ask questions later and he wasn’t sure he would attempt to stop her right now. The woman clearly smelled of the Barracks, she wasn’t just some civilian doing a good deed but doing a job and, in that sense, she should be an enemy. Everything his father had taught him; this woman should be trying to erase them not help them and yet there hadn’t been a single threat that shimmered off of her.

Her aura was pure and reluctantly welcoming, which he hated about the whole situation. The young man wanted to hate her more than anything right now, but he was falling into the trap he wanted to believe was there as she moved slightly closer to her. Ears tipped back as his fur smoothed over, disarming himself in his staggered approach to gently press his muzzle against the bone that so delicately framed her eye to see if she would still calmly react as she did on the other side of the bars. "Cén fáth a bhfuil tú i mbaol a bheith i anseo gan garda, ina n-aonar le do naimhde, Iníon Calla?"(Why are you risking being in here without a guard, alone with your enemies, Miss Calla?) it was a whisper, curiosity getting the best of him as he waited to see if her eyes would focus on him or remain separate from this realm.

If she didn’t move, his muzzle would glide down toward her neck where a vital point rested to see just how trusting she really was, how much risk she was truly willing to push. He wouldn’t harm her, but he couldn’t believe she thought that to be true.

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@Calla

T

here did not seem to be a present danger, in this situation. With the withdrawal of her herbs from their hiding place, she allowed the male to do as he pleased. Her eyes would glance over him from time to time, making sure that if he did take them, they would be used properly. In all of this, one might think her heart would be racing, that she was uncomfortable. But neither were true. The only thing making her uncomfortable was the feeling of despair that lingered in this place, from the cold iron bars to the lack of fresh air and free of light. This place was awfully sad and could force any wolf to feel a sense of depression. But Calla herself was a light, and she knew that if she helped them, there could be a little light inside of themselves as well, hopefully - something that could keep them going and survive this dreadful place. Calla could not tell if his growl was something to worry about, or just to ignore - she dared not to look him in the eyes for some possibility that he might take it as a form of hostility. If there were anyway to be more submissive (besides rolling onto her back), she would do it.

"Chan e thusa... mo nàmhaid."1 Her tone was soft. It was true, he had done nothing to her specifically, and she was not really sure of his crimes, only that he was on the opposition. He could have been a Voxi for all she knew, but he smelled too much like the other Jacobians for that to be an option. With him being so close, she allowed her eyes to look into his. From this vantage point, she could see the stained tears down his features. Her heart sank. She could not imagine the amount of despair and pain that had risen inside of his body from one thing or another. "Aster - galar, tha mugwort na antibiotic, agus tha crom-lus arbhair na fhaochadh cràdh."2 Her voice was soft, so that she would not get the attention of anyone else who might be snooping.

Translation:
1. You.. not my enemy.
2. Aster - infection, mugwort is an antibiotic, and corn poppy is pain relief.

@Raith

code by Yahtzee-Penguiduck

The way she kept becoming more and more submissive in her demeanor was starting to make him grow more uncomfortable than he might have been had she been hostile, starting to feel like the villain of the story. He drew in a breath, taking in the fact her scent didn’t smell of fear, which completely countered her visual response to being in here and it made her grow more uncertain about her intentions within this prison cell. There was that chance still that she wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination evil, there was also that chance that she might gut him the moment he let his guard down but not even the fur along her spine raised in anything that could be considered any kind of extreme emotion. She could be a good actress, one so well adapted that she could even make her body lie but he found that nearly impossible for instinct was what would keep one alive and without instinct… his thoughts drifted away when he came to that realization.

She was playing with instinct, both ignoring and listening to it all at once. Someone that listened to their instincts wouldn’t have put themselves in this position in the first place, vulnerable and outnumbered but she catered to the instincts of how to keep herself from being a target for someone more aggressive than himself. Even this display wouldn’t quell the beast in some, feeling like his father would have torn her asunder by now or used her for leverage to gain an escape route.

He wasn’t his father as much as he lived his life trying to be since childhood. They didn’t think the same way therefore every action he made couldn’t be matched with the veteran, nor could his thoughts. One of his many critical failures as the replacement son.

The way his gaze was met made his body tense just a touch, taking in those dull eyes of hers that he could not deny any longer were truly looking back in their pastel pools, focused. “Calla,” he sighed out her name on a warm breath before his teeth clenched and frustration wanted to rear its head again, feeling the bitter turmoil over her presence once more. His lip twitched as she started to speak about the herbs again, making his ridged shoulders tense as he took in her form, tempted to press her against the wall in a dominant position to maybe make her finally break this act, if it was one. The problem was, he was starting to believe those eyes were genuine, her mannerisms were who she was. He was the one breaking while she was the delicate butterfly trying to kiss his wounds.

"Má tá tú fíor seo milis, tá tú aon áit a bheith anseo in áit den sórt sin unkind. Téigh... i bhfad, i bhfad ar shiúl ó anseo agus fanacht amach as an gcogadh seo. Fill ar ais nuair atá an talamh seo sábháilte arís nó má lorgaíonn siad cosaint an fae, má ghlacann siad leat,"(If you are truly this gentle, you have no place being here in such an unkind place. Go… far, far away from here and stay out of this war. Return when this land is safe again or seek the fae’s protection, if they will accept you,) his voice was low and husky, shutting out his pain to focus on her. “Go.” His gaze would flicker from her toward the bars of the cell, half expecting the guard to come and harm her out of suspicions over what they might be saying.

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@Calla