Rhen Yvael

@woodlandsentinel inquired:

[ love ] your muse telling mine they love them during. - Malshano & Rhen? I miss them 👉👈

MEME || nsfw muse reaction prompts

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amourmemes

❥ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 .

inspired by devotedecay’s non - sexual acts of dominance meme ! send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to … ( add ❝ reverse ❞ if you’d like to see how my muse would preform the action ! )

[ shower ] your muse joining mine in the shower.

[ choke ] your muse choking mine.

[ kiss + soft ] your muse pulling mine into a tender kiss.

[ kiss + rough ] your muse pulling mine into a rough kiss.

[ pin ] your muse pinning mine down.

[ wrists ] your muse roughly grabbing mine by the wrists.

[ push ] your muse pushing mine into bed.

[ rip + clothing ] your muse tearing a piece of clothing off my muse.

[ spank ] your muse spanking mine.

[ pull ] your muse pulling my muses hair.

[ talk ] your muse talking dirty to mine.

[ eyes ] your muse making mine look them in the eyes during.

[ down ] your muse pulling mine down by their collar / clothes.

[ knees ] your muse telling mine to get on their knees.

[ hips ] your muse pulling mine in close by the hips.

[ denial ] your muse putting mine through orgasm denial.

[ many ] your muse making mine orgasm over and over.

[ tied ] your muse tying my muse down.

[ lazy ] your muse lazily beginning to touch mine.

[ love ] your muse telling mine they love them during.

[ dominance ] your muse taking the lead and dominating mine.

[ submission ] your muse letting mine take the lead and submitting to them.

[ humiliation ] your muse humiliating mine, re: name-calling and verbal abuse.

[ pain ] your muse hurting mine in bed, whether intentionally or not.

[ knife ] your muse using a knife in bed, whether for threat or actually cutting mine.

[ hidden ] your muse having sex with mine somewhere semi-public.

[ public ] your muse having sex with mine in public, whee other people watch.

[ adore ] your muse being near reverent with mine in bed.

[ dress ] your muse having mine dress up in lingerie.

[ eat ] your muse eating mine out.

[ sleep ] your muse touching / beginning to have sex with mine while they’re asleep.

[ gag ] your muse gagging mine, or or making them be quiet.

[ blindfold ] your muse blindfolding mine.

[ praise ] your muse praising mine in bed.

[ good ] your muse calling mine a good boy / girl.

[ want ] your muse telling mine they want them.

[ snarl ] your muse growling and / or baring their teeth at mine during sex.

[ mark ] your muse purposefully marking mine up with bruises, hickies, ect.

[ wall ] your muse shoving mine up against a wall.

#rpmemes

maureen2musings

…

andrew.studer

#aesthetics

woodlandsentinel:

There was no further pause to Rhen’s movements, knowing that prolonging any of the stitches would only cause further pain. He paid close attention to the other’s breathing, to his heartbeat, ears twitching from time to time. He didn’t know why he suddenly was so determined to keep the other alive. But once he had his mind set on something he would not let up until his task was done. And so he kept working until he was able to set the last stitch, pulling out a knife to cut the thread once he was done.

One last bit of water was used to try and clear away some more blood, but for now the wound appeared, at the very least, sufficiently closed.

He reached up to take his belt from beneath the other’s teeth, gauging his expression. The back of one hand brushed against his forehead, finding it cold and clad with sweat. The soldier had lost much blood, the Viera’s hands and face paid testament to that, but thanks to Rhen he would not loose anymore blood. Now, it was solely a matter of how strong the other was…

…Given that Rhen stayed at his side, otherwise his work would likely be for naught and the man would still find his end here.

The Viera blinked a few times after the thought occured to him, wondering how he had not realized it sooner. He raised a hand to finally wipe at his face, leaving the back of his hand as bloodied as his palm and his chin and lips still smeared with crimson liquid.

A sound somewhere deeper in the forest reached the Viera’s ears and he sharply turned his head when he recognized the ever so silent pattern of sounds that belonged to another woodwarden approaching. One that would likely not be as helpful as he had been should he stumble upon them.

It was hard to make out anything beyond the smell of blood but the smallest breeze tugged at his hair from inbetween the trees, telling him that they had a chance at escape if they moved with the wind now.

“We have to leave,” he hissed, leaning close in order to keep his voice as low as possible. He quickly tugged the leatherbelt around himself, fastening it with practiced movements. If they moved to the stream a few yalms east they could likely shake their pursuer, or so he hoped.

He pulled one of the other’s arm around him, dragging him to his feet with a strength one would not expect from his build alone. “Walk or die,” he said, adjusting his hold around the soldier’s waist as he pulled him along. “The choice is yours.”

How was it that one’s nerves didn’t shut off all pain whether it was consistent or added elements? He’d have thought that he would barely feel the needle, yet he would feel it all as the needle & thread violated his skin, from the piercing of the thin metal smoothly sliding through to be followed by rougher material, all in a smooth rhythm as someone used to doing this. He had clenched his jaws until they ached, heart spiking at each touch of the point, & his breathes were ragged, but he only had to endure it for less than a minute it took - he slumped with relief when the thread was tied & cut, wincing at the new sensation of skin pulled taunt in that spot.

He would live. For now.

Eyes remaining closed even as the leather was removed from his mouth, he was taking the time to recover a bit. He must be far paler than he should be, cold sweat still running down his face as he felt clammy, his breathing slowly calming though remaining short. The pain was present, but the cold, numbing sensation didn’t continue to increase that he could tell.

❝Wha…?❞ His tongue felt thick in his mouth & unable to form much of a question before he was tugged away from the rock, letting out a groan that he tried to stifle as he was dragged onto his feet so soon after all that he dealt with. With a glance to the man, he’d realize that they were roughly the same height, though it was difficult to tell much more than that as the Viera told him his choices - walk or die. Whatever it was that had spooked the man, Malshano felt both terrified & irritated, as a man shouldn’t be forced to move around after dealing with life-threatening injuries. But he’d squeeze his eyes shut to repress that; maybe the man had a reason to do as he was doing now, & if it had been in the middle of a battlefield, he’d have done the same for one of his soldiers…

❝Walk.❞ Looking back over to his torso & gauntlets he had discarded, he could only nudge them into the thick bushes with a foot, hopefully concealed enough at first glance, before leaning against the other, arranging his feet to step in sync with the Viera. His face was chalky in color & sweat coated his skin, but he had a determined expression in his tired face as the hand that was attached to the arm wrapped around the other’s shoulders grasped at the material. ❝I choose walk.❞ Perhaps it was good that his voice couldn’t raise to much of a loud volume, though he muttered quietly all the same.

Despite the other's resolve it was more the Viera dragging the Garlean through the forest than it was him actually walking, but Rhen didn't much mind it either way. There was no longer time to consider why he was helping the man in the first place and as such he simply commited to his decision.

Had he been alone, the way to one of his many hideouts that were dotted throughout the area would have been a matter of minutes, travelling as they were however, with the soldier draped across his shoulders and near his entire weight on him it seemed to take ages.

Night was falling quickly now, but Rhen lead them through the forest without pausing once. He knew this track, could follow it blindly if need be even though there were no obvious signs of a path.

Eventually the sound of flowing water could be heard as they made their way to a shallow river. It was easy enough to cross where they were now, but it picked up in speed and depth as they followed it upstream and soon enough the roaring of a waterfall drowned out almost all other sound.

Here the forest was a wall of green framing the cascading water, the thick foliage perfect to hide the small construct of wooden beams that formed a platform quite a ways up on one of the oldest trees of the area.

The hideout itself wasn't huge by any stretch of the imagination. It bore enough room for a place to sleep -- another slightly elavated platform on which there was more an accumulation of well-kept furrs to be found than a proper bed, a small area where Rhen kept more medical supplies, spare weapons, armor and clothes and another even smaller area used for cooking.

The rounded plattform was overhung by a roof built from the same wood as the floor but decades of growth of the surrounding trees had caused a lot of the wood to be overgrown by vines and leaves, hiding it even more from curious onlookers and making it impossible to be spotted from below.

But there was still the matter of getting them up there. Rhen adjusted his hold on the other, before letting go. He knew the man was not able to make it up there on his own. He helped the soldier to lean against one of the huge roots of the tree, searching his face. It was clear that he needed rest, he looked about ready to pass out any moment. Something akin to concern settled in the Viera's chest.

He fought it down.

"Wait here," he said curtly. "I'll go first and drop a rope to pull you up."

woodlandsentinel:

Once the other relented to his order Rhen shifted his attention back to the wound. It was too small to hope to dig the bullet out with his fingers and trying the same with one of his knives would likely cause more damage than it would do good. So, he leaned in without hesitation, closed his mouth around the wound and sucked, hands holding fast onto the other man to keep him from moving with the pain he was no doubt experiencing.

The taste of blood filled his mouth and soon enough he had to turn his head to the side to spit out the thick liquid onto the forest floor. He repeated the motion a few times and eventually he could feel a small piece of metal slip between his lips.

It, too, got spit out and immediately did Rhen reach into one of his leather pouches to produce several pieces of fabric which he pressed down onto the wound. They were not meant for wounds like this, would do little to entirely stop the flow of blood, but it would be enough for now.

It was the soldier’s luck to have met a woodwarden, one that was willing to help no less. Years of solitude meant they had to be as selfsufficient as possible, which included treating ones own wounds, no matter the severity.

Rhen reached for the waterskin he carried and began to clean the wound as best he could, before he used another scrap of fabric to apply pressure again. His other hand reached for the soldier’s, moving it to rest atop the scrap, making him understand that he needed to continue to apply pressure.

Bloodied hands then moved to dig through another pouch, coming back with a needle and thread. Methodical were his movements as he thread the needle and then pushed the other’s hand aside to begin and close the wound.

It was then that he searched the other’s gaze again, the needle just about to breach skin. “Brace yourself,” he said, for what followed would not be pleasant. The forming of words once again put the taste of blood onto his tongue. Yet, Rhen wasn’t panicked, not even hectic despite the dire situation, his voice remained calm, his gaze unwavering, his movements sure.

He was waiting for the piercing cut of a blade digging into his flesh, or even fingers invading the wound even though it were such a small wound despite the amount of blood that had escaped from it. Staring ahead, not wanting to watch, he didn’t expect what would occur, the press of the other’s warm mouth covering the wound, which proved to be nearly as painful as the methods thought of but still unprepared for it. Malshano grunted & clenched his teeth against the leather, his breathing labored as he felt his body spasm though he were held pressed by the man’s hands, presumably to keep him from moving too much.

Endure it. His right hand clenched & pressed against the ground, albeit weakly, as this action was repeated, though his body would react despite his efforts to keep still. Just when he dimly thought that the man was purposefully doing this to drain him faster of blood, however, the faint shifting of something solid finally was pulled from his muscles & flesh. While marginally better, no longer aggravating his shoulder & chest muscles, the relief was brief.

His vision was getting further blurrier, darkness rising at the edges of his vision, & he didn’t know why he wasn’t shivering as much as one should from how cold he felt - blood loss, his mind tried to remind him. All the same, he felt something wet against his body briefly before pressure was pushed, making him wince. Having his hand pulled up to press against the scrap of fabric was almost automatic to him, all the while he squinted his eyes to force them to sharpen & clear a bit. It was enough to be able to meet the man’s eyes once more, dark crimson on & around the Viera’s lips, his link to the living world at current as he numbly nodded at what was said, a prick of sharp touching his skin if he was able to tell what it was anymore.

All he could do was close his eyes & wait, teeth clenched again in preparation even as he tried to keep his right side of the body relaxed - all the while fighting off the want to sink into the growing darkness that kept obscuring his vision, tugging at his conscious.

#surpassing-limits #tw: blood

There was no further pause to Rhen's movements, knowing that prolonging any of the stitches would only cause further pain. He paid close attention to the other's breathing, to his heartbeat, ears twitching from time to time. He didn't know why he suddenly was so determined to keep the other alive. But once he had his mind set on something he would not let up until his task was done. And so he kept working until he was able to set the last stitch, pulling out a knife to cut the thread once he was done.

One last bit of water was used to try and clear away some more blood, but for now the wound appeared, at the very least, sufficiently closed.

He reached up to take his belt from beneath the other's teeth, gauging his expression. The back of one hand brushed against his forehead, finding it cold and clad with sweat. The soldier had lost much blood, the Viera's hands and face paid testament to that, but thanks to Rhen he would not loose anymore blood. Now, it was solely a matter of how strong the other was...

...Given that Rhen stayed at his side, otherwise his work would likely be for naught and the man would still find his end here.

The Viera blinked a few times after the thought occured to him, wondering how he had not realized it sooner. He raised a hand to finally wipe at his face, leaving the back of his hand as bloodied as his palm and his chin and lips still smeared with crimson liquid.

A sound somewhere deeper in the forest reached the Viera's ears and he sharply turned his head when he recognized the ever so silent pattern of sounds that belonged to another woodwarden approaching. One that would likely not be as helpful as he had been should he stumble upon them.

It was hard to make out anything beyond the smell of blood but the smallest breeze tugged at his hair from inbetween the trees, telling him that they had a chance at escape if they moved with the wind now.

"We have to leave," he hissed, leaning close in order to keep his voice as low as possible. He quickly tugged the leatherbelt around himself, fastening it with practiced movements. If they moved to the stream a few yalms east they could likely shake their pursuer, or so he hoped.

He pulled one of the other's arm around him, dragging him to his feet with a strength one would not expect from his build alone. "Walk or die," he said, adjusting his hold around the soldier's waist as he pulled him along. "The choice is yours."

woodlandsentinel:

After years of going without any contact at all there was something unsettling to have the first touch to his skin by another be this. He felt the trembling and the cold when the other’s fingers curled around his wrist, a stark contrast to the warmth of the Viera’s own skin.

Rhen hesitated even as the blade was weakly pulled towards the man’s throat. It would be a mercy to kill him now, he’d likely only be in more pain if left as is, but…

Despite his wound he had made it this far into the woods without dying, without arousing any attention from beasts and other wardens alike. Lucky coincidence probably, but what if this man wasn’t meant to die just yet?

Something reflected in the edge of his blade then, a ray of evening sunlight broke through the canopy and caused Rhen to close his eyes for a moment as it blinded him.

Rhen had been brought up on the believe that the world around him had a will of its own and that it aligned with that of the gods. The wardens of Yvael were trained to read and respect the elements for that same reason and while he could not harnest the aether around him by his own hands, he could still feel it and seldom had he felt a pull as strong as that which brought him here to this man’s side.

He took the blade back from the other man’s throat. If coincidence stayed his hand even while the soldier before him urged him onward then mayhap it was the will of the gods that he yet lived despite all odds that stood against him.

The Viera’s gaze shifted to the haphazardly wrapped wound and the blood that still oozed from it. And then he made a decision.

The blade was angled, instead of towards the other’s throat to dive between the scraps of fabric and the skin beneath, cutting the bandages which were too loose anyway to take a proper look.

Warm hands traced the skin along the wound and then along the other’s side and towards his back, trying to find a matching hole of exit for the bullet wound. He found none.

It warranted another course of action, one the Viera took without further preamble. The knife was placed back into it’s sheath and a moment later he pulled one of his leather belts off. He found the man’s gaze as he held it up to him. “Bite down on this,” he said. This next part would be painful.

Like all Garleans, Malshano rejected gods & all forms of some ‘higher power’, reviling religion as a whole for they were thought of to be the sole reason for the primals’ existence, the bane of all existence on this star as they’d be summoned, tempering all those near & draining the star’s vast yet finite aether. And so, he wouldn’t know nor understand what was going through the stranger’s mind, had not an onze of thought in that what the Viera saw things besides the immediate situation. As far as the soldier knew, the man was deciding whether he was killing him or leaving him to die on his own time.

He had chosen neither option, which greatly shocked the man though he had naught the means to do more than look confused as the blade pulled away from his grasp as well as his throat, the shifting of the fabric barely felt as they dropped away once they were cut. What was this stranger doing..?

Gazes meeting once more, pale red locking with gold, the Garlean frowned at the offered leather belt. His thoughts were slowed as the numbness spread, a result of blood loss after all, but he realized the implication of which it would mean to bite onto it - there was no exit wound for the bullet to have left through. The man intended to remove that solid foreign object…

If he were stronger, or at least not so profusely weakened, he’d have been more suspicious & defiant, to look at this offer of help as the man planning to keep him alive for some nefarious reason. But the logic of the situation overtook his pride in a manner. The hand that had been grasping the Viera’s wrist would take the leather belt, clumsily adjusting so that he’d bite onto the thick though yielding material, head turned away so that he might stare stubbornly ahead. He had survived despite the odds - he could take the pain.

#tw: blood #surpassing limits

Once the other relented to his order Rhen shifted his attention back to the wound. It was too small to hope to dig the bullet out with his fingers and trying the same with one of his knives would likely cause more damage than it would do good. So, he leaned in without hesitation, closed his mouth around the wound and sucked, hands holding fast onto the other man to keep him from moving with the pain he was no doubt experiencing.

The taste of blood filled his mouth and soon enough he had to turn his head to the side to spit out the thick liquid onto the forest floor. He repeated the motion a few times and eventually he could feel a small piece of metal slip between his lips.

It, too, got spit out and immediately did Rhen reach into one of his leather pouches to produce several pieces of fabric which he pressed down onto the wound. They were not meant for wounds like this, would do little to entirely stop the flow of blood, but it would be enough for now.

It was the soldier's luck to have met a woodwarden, one that was willing to help no less. Years of solitude meant they had to be as selfsufficient as possible, which included treating ones own wounds, no matter the severity.

Rhen reached for the waterskin he carried and began to clean the wound as best he could, before he used another scrap of fabric to apply pressure again. His other hand reached for the soldier's, moving it to rest atop the scrap, making him understand that he needed to continue to apply pressure.

Bloodied hands then moved to dig through another pouch, coming back with a needle and thread. Methodical were his movements as he thread the needle and then pushed the other's hand aside to begin and close the wound.

It was then that he searched the other's gaze again, the needle just about to breach skin. "Brace yourself" he said, for what followed would not be pleasant. The forming of words once again put the taste of blood onto his tongue. Yet, Rhen wasn't panicked, not even hectic despite the dire situation, his voice remained calm, his gaze unwavering, his movements sure.

woodlandsentinel:

“You’d die either way,” the Viera answered matter of factly after another moment of quiet in which held the gaze of the other man. The words felt unfamiliar on his lips. Rhen hadn’t spoken common in near a decade and even though he spoke it fluently his voice was quiet and deep as if he wasn’t used to speaking at all.

“Is that what you want?” He asked, reaching for one of the knives that were tied to his belt. With a quick movement he was in the other’s space, kneeling over him, the blade’s edge now pressed closely against his throat. Rhen’s gaze was unwavering, but not cruel, simply curious.

If he didn’t already feel cold from blood loss thus far, he would have felt more than a pressure against his throat, a slight sharpness, but that was all that could be registered. To have the man kneeling over him, pressing the Garlean back against the rough stone as his curious eyes gazed down at him… it was horrible to be put in such a position, to be at the mercy of another. But he would NOT beg.

❝No. But I will… accept it.❞

A hand rose to grasp weakly onto the other’s wrist, the one that held the blade to his throat. It was shaking, a combination of fear & exertion at this point, with hardly any strength to even shift the other away. But instead of pushing, he’d pull even as it was barely a shift at all, feeling the sharpness of the blade dig a little more against his skin & perhaps even drawing a few drops of blood from there as well.

He didn’t want to die, not at all. Rare was it a man that could look at death & want to rush into its embrace. But Malshano was instilled with the fear of capture more - not only because of what captured Garleans were often put through but also because it brought great dishonor to the empire.

After years of going without any contact at all there was something unsettling to have the first touch to his skin by another be this. He felt the trembling and the cold when the other's fingers curled around his wrist, a stark contrast to the warmth of the Viera's own skin.

Rhen hesitated even as the blade was weakly pulled towards the man's throat. It would be a mercy to kill him now, he'd likely only be in more pain if left as is, but...

Despite his wound he had made it this far into the woods without dying, without arousing any attention from beasts and other wardens alike. Lucky coincidence probably, but what if this man wasn't meant to die just yet?

Something reflected in the edge of his blade then, a ray of evening sunlight broke through the canopy and caused Rhen to close his eyes for a moment as it blinded him.

Rhen had been brought up on the believe that the world around him had a will of its own and that it aligned with that of the gods. The wardens of Yvael were trained to read and respect the elements for that same reason and while he could not harnest the aether around him by his own hands, he could still feel it and seldom had he felt a pull as strong as that which brought him here to this man's side.

He took the blade back from the other man's throat. If coincidence stayed his hand even while the soldier before him urged him onward then mayhap it was the will of the gods that he yet lived despite all odds that stood against him.

The Viera's gaze shifted to the haphazardly wrapped wound and the blood that still oozed from it. And then he made a decision.

The blade was angled, instead of towards the other's throat to dive between the scraps of fabric and the skin beneath, cutting the bandages which were too loose anyway to take a proper look.

Warm hands traced the skin along the wound and then along the other's side and towards his back, trying to find a matching hole of exit for the bullet wound. He found none.

It warranted another course of action, one the Viera took without further preamble. The knife was placed back into it's sheath and a moment later he pulled one of his leather belts off. He found the man's gaze as he held it up to him. "Bite down on this," he said. This next part would be painful.

#surpassing-limits

woodlandsentinel:

The longer the Viera followed the man through the woods the more intense the smell of blood became. Rhen expected the soldier to collapse far earlier than he did. With a wound like the one that was now revealed to him it was remarkable that he was still on his feet.

The wound reminded him of a mark left on his own body, and absentmindedly did he move a hand to lay on the scar he knew to be hidden beneath his light leather armor.

He watched as the man kept working on his wound, clearly determined to keep going, to keep fighting, but it was clear that he was struggling– dying. Rhen reminded himself.

Rhen furrowed his brows when the stranger stopped moving and for a moment something akin to regret gripped the Viera tightly. He shouldn’t step out from his hiding place, should not care what happened to the stranger, and yet…

No sound could be heard as the woodwarden made his way across the distance between them, closer now the stench of blood was near unbearable, and the man before him looked closer to death than life in any case. But the Viera could still hear his heartbeat, his rattled breathing. Not dead yet. Remarkable.

He didn’t say anything, simply looked down at the injured man, pale red gaze piercing as he took in all of him.

Enough rest, the part that was hyper aware of the fact that inactivity could be what leads to his death, though that voice was dim, quiet. It was hard to convince himself to listen to it, to move. But his eyes remained closed even as he were trying to pull the will to live back to himself rather than let it slip from his grasp. Yet… even if he survived… what then..?

Perhaps what pulled him back was the faint sounds of footsteps that drifted to even his ears, though it took a moment to recognize it for what they meant.

Those golden hues would reappear as he snapped them open, defiant, his free hand twitching as he registered what - who - was staring down at him… a man. A Viera, no less. If he were in a better state of mind, he’d recall as much of the race in general, but they eluded him… except perhaps in that men of their kind were so rarely seen. Even from his position, he thought the other was a male.

His breathing had hitched in that moment of discovery in that he had company, growing harsh as he drew more air despite his ribs trying to limit him. But the added pain helped him be more aware, even though in reality he had no weapon he could even use to defend himself ; as well as no armor, torso exposed for all manner of blades or arrows. An easy target…

Yet… none came. No blow to kill or strike him even as he stared, brows furrowing slowly in growing confusion as the man’s gaze seemed to both pierce him as well as take in the entirety of his being. After that moment would he slowly reach for the long strips of fabric. Still with no reaction would he briefly look away, gritting his teeth as he started the painful, odious task of securing the wad of now-soaked fabric against his chest.

❝Kill me… or leave… me be,❞ he managed to rasp out, fumbling with the knot he was tying around his torso, the next strip to go over his shoulder. Those were the only options he presented - Garleans, especially those of leaderships, did not surrender willingly. Even if his commander status had been ripped from him… he had his pride.

"You'd die either way," the Viera answered matter of factly after another moment of quiet in which held the gaze of the other man. The words felt unfamiliar on his lips. Rhen hadn't spoken common in near a decade and even though he spoke it fluently his voice was quiet and deep as if he wasn't used to speaking at all.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, reaching for one of the knives that were tied to his belt. With a quick movement he was in the other's space, kneeling over him, the blade's edge now pressed closely against his throat. Rhen's gaze was unwavering, but not cruel, simply curious.

woodlandsentinel:

@surpassing-limits liked for a starter:

Heavy footsteps on the forest floor and the clattering of foreign armor were what first caught the Viera’s attention. The second was the distinct smell of blood as he silently made his way through the canopy towards the sound.

Both spoke of a foreigner, a trespasser and someone foolish enough to travel through these parts with an open wound.

Long ears twitched and turned in various directions, listening for the familiar sounds of the forest to gauge any danger beyond the man he could see trudging through the foliage below.

Rhen kept following the stranger once he realized he was alone. He was a soldier. It was apparent now that he could see him, but they never travelled alone, or so the Viera thought until now.

Rhen moved around the foreigner, disappearing quickly behind a tree further into the direction the soldier was travelling. He was close enough to make out the features of his face, but remained near invisible to the untrained eye.

He paused there, watching as the man moved forward step by step. Closer as he was now Rhen could easily make out the other’s light hair and the lack of elongated ears. But what caught and kept his attention for the longest was first the colored gem in the middle of his forehead and then the gold of his eyes. Even strained with pain the Viera couldn’t deny that the man’s features were pleasing to his eyes, although he cast that thought aside quickly once realizing what he was thinking.

He will die out here. Rhen thought then. If not by his wound then by the claws of a beast that caught his scent come nighttime, which wasn’t far at this point in time.

It should reassure him. After all, it would save him the trouble of dealing with the trespasser himself. However, Yvael lay hidden in the opposite direction and as it stood the soldier wasn’t a threat to his tribe and Rhen couldn’t quite help his curiosity. He seldom saw anyone in these parts aside from his own people and barring the occassional territorial fight he didn’t interact with anyone either. Least of all those of a different race.

So, he decided that, for now, he would follow him, if only because he was curious of how his story would end.

It had to be a mistake. It just had to be.

But what if it wasn’t-?

No. It made no sense to be anything else but that.

With every sharp inhale & exhale of breath, it was clear that he was biting down on pain that throbbed through his whole being, pressing a hand uselessly to the opposite side of his chest as though he could press away the wound. This armor had been part of his life, his protection & status, worn with pride since the day it was finished being crafted & issued to him - now it were more of a hinderance, partially destroyed as well as preventing him from tending to his most severe wound.

He should be lucky that he hadn’t suffered worse, he supposed, given that the fall could have broken a bone such as his neck upon impact… though it was barely much consolation. He felt heavily bruised & sore, & perhaps he hadn’t entirely escape something fracturing as his ribs had been painfully burning with every breath.

He needed to stop, try to tend to himself. But where..?

Left with little choice of pickings, the Garlean scanned his current surroundings - he had been running entirely on the tempo of ‘must return home’, beside that of the thoughts that kept circling on how this happened before touching upon the final moment before blacking out from the pain, then shying away & going back to it being a mistake or accident. He should have been paying more attention to his unknown location, yet one self-preservation was ignored for the one being more critical. He felt cold & numb despite the warmth that the armor should provide him, with his sight somewhat blurry.

Choosing to settle beneath an overhang of a rocky ledge, he painfully sat down, his gauntlets removed before using his hands to clumsily undo the bindings of his torso armor then unceremoniously pulling it off with a huff of pained air, the steel smeared red on the inside. His shirt beneath, however, was entirely soaked on the side where the bullet wound now resided. With a grimace, Malshano would peel off the fabric then off over his head, shuddering at the feeling of it having painted more of his skin with his own blood before setting to work, to tear off useful strips, though it was made harder due to his clumsy, numb hands. If he had a medikit, it would make much more difference, but he’d have to settle with pressing a thick wad of material against the wound.

He would have tried tying the long strips to keep it in place, but he felt so tired, too drained at the moment that even his adrenalin couldn’t keep him going for now. So for now, he’d have to rest back against the cold rock behind him, wincing from the rough material against his already bruised skin. Just a few minutes, then he’ll try to finish patching himself. Even if he couldn’t dig the damned bullet out, it was better than bleeding out…

The bastard should have hit his heart, not missed it.

The longer the Viera followed the man through the woods the more intense the smell of blood became. Rhen expected the soldier to collapse far earlier than he did. With a wound like the one that was now revealed to him it was remarkable that he was still on his feet.

The wound reminded him of a mark left on his own body, and absentmindedly did he move a hand to lay on the scar he knew to be hidden beneath his light leather armor.

He watched as the man kept working on his wound, clearly determined to keep going, to keep fighting, but it was clear that he was struggling-- dying. Rhen reminded himself.

Rhen furrowed his brows when the stranger stopped moving and for a moment something akin to regret gripped the Viera tightly. He shouldn't step out from his hiding place, should not care what happened to the stranger, and yet...

No sound could be heard as the woodwarden made his way across the distance between them, closer now the stench of blood was near unbearable, and the man before him looked closer to death than life in any case. But the Viera could still hear his heartbeat, his rattled breathing. Not dead yet. Remarkable.

He didn't say anything, simply looked down at the injured man, pale red gaze piercing as he took in all of him.

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Heavy footsteps on the forest floor and the clattering of foreign armor were what first caught the Viera's attention. The second was the distinct smell of blood as he silently made his way through the canopy towards the sound.

Both spoke of a foreigner, a trespasser and someone foolish enough to travel through these parts with an open wound.

Long ears twitched and turned in various directions, listening for the familiar sounds of the forest to gauge any danger beyond the man he could see trudging through the foliage below.

Rhen kept following the stranger once he realized he was alone. He was a soldier. It was apparent now that he could see him, but they never travelled alone, or so the Viera thought until now.

Rhen moved around the foreigner, disappearing quickly behind a tree further into the direction the soldier was travelling. He was close enough to make out the features of his face, but remained near invisible to the untrained eye.

He paused there, watching as the man moved forward step by step. Closer as he was now Rhen could easily make out the other's light hair and the lack of elongated ears. But what caught and kept his attention for the longest was first the colored gem in the middle of his forehead and then the gold of his eyes. Even strained with pain the Viera couldn't deny that the man's features were pleasing to his eyes, although he cast that thought aside quickly once realizing what he was thinking.

He will die out here. Rhen thought then. If not by his wound then by the claws of a beast that caught his scent come nighttime, which wasn't far at this point in time.

It should reassure him. After all, it would save him the trouble of dealing with the trespasser himself. However, Yvael lay hidden in the opposite direction and as it stood the soldier wasn't a threat to his tribe and Rhen couldn't quite help his curiosity. He seldom saw anyone in these parts aside from his own people and barring the occassional territorial fight he didn't interact with anyone either. Least of all those of a different race.

So, he decided that, for now, he would follow him, if only because he was curious of how his story would end.