⚔  in these silences, something may rise  ⚔

Torstein has washed his wounds, rested his creaky bones and tired muscles. So much of him ached, but it was a sweet feeling he did not dislike. The slice along his side, however, was another story... the Teryr had raked its claw along his barrel, cutting the flesh with the fine tip of its horrid claws. Every movement made him feel the disgustingly familiar pop as the skin pulled apart from one another; the same feeling a papercut on a joint would illicit, except all the more unpleasant.

He had scoured the desert for what one thing that he knew to be beneficial, and he had found it. Aloe. He may not be a healer, but he knew the basics every good warrior should... and this plant was truly a godsend. He had spent the time around the Canyon pilfering off whole plants' fronds, biting off one side of the tough skin to expose the gel center.

It was during this time that he heard the guttural roar from what he assumed was the flashy stallion. An ombre ear twitched lazily forward, and his gaze moved up to the skyline where the grand hall lay. He had yet to set foot within its stone quarters, but he assumed that now was as good a time as ever. Not like he had too much of a choice, anyhow.

He turned his attention briefly to the moderately sized pile of aloe fronds he had. He took two exceptionally large ones that he had, and scooped up the gel from its center. The telekinesis this land afforded him proved to be useful, even if he was quite clumsy at handling it.. but it did assist him in smearing that glob of gel along the cut along his barrel. The cool sensation brought a hum from his throat, even if the aloe stun a tad as it entered the crevice of the wound.

For good measure, he slathered another large frond's worth of gel over the wound, effectively coating the entire thing and the fur surrounding it. The gel was doing good work at keeping the wound's edges from popping apart from one another, but it still stung.

He gathered the remaining aloe fronds - a good amount for a number of the inhabitants that had been involved in the scuffle. He was feeling oddly nice, so he figured he might spread the love.

And off he went, making his way slowly and carefully from the Canyon to the grand hall. He was in no rush, and had no intentions of ripping open the wound upon his side any further. He would show his face, even though he questioned why he would bother.

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He finally made it. Eyes peered around the grand Court and all its old glory. Even if it was old and akin to ruins, it was still quite an impressive feature of the land. He saw several, whom he assumed were also Solterran inhabitants, rush past him and up the worn stone stairs. He paused at the base, dreading the hike. Might as well follow, since I haven't a clue where I'm actually headed.

And he did, slowly up those time-worn stairs and into what he would learn was the Grand Hall. He entered the room where several others already stood: the other massive brute who tackled the Teryr, the dreadlocked mare, the black and gold pegasus whom had the utter shit knocked out of her by the Teryr (which still illicited a cruel chuckle), the golden chestnut mare, resting bitchface - whom he had met upon more than one occasion, and an unfamiliar white dappled stallion.

Somber eyes regarded the mass as he stood in silence near the outcropping of the room. He eventually meandered forward, towards where the painted stallion stood atop his slab, and found an unused surface. It was here that he dropped the remainder of the aloe fronds for whomever would find it useful. "For those of us still licking our wounds," he commented unequivocally, and then returned to his spot at the fringe of the room.

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Action. Thoughts. "Speech."
Free aloe gel for anyone who wants it ;D
This is his 1 good deed for the year, fyi

↤ Reference Image - - chest cavity: CLOSED - - 680 words - - code Ⓒ inkbone ↦

DO WE NOT BLEED?

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Lorca heard the summons from within his decadent chambers and scowled, rolling his golden eyes with utter ire at the sound of the new Sovereigns call. He didn't immediately jump from his cushions to scamper to the King, instead he lounged further back into the comfort of his soft bed and stretched out each long limb sensually, ears flicking lazily at the sounds of hurrying footsteps all throughout the keep. Only once the sounds of hoof-falls had diminished did he slowly rise, luxuriously rolling his elegantly muscled shoulders and sweeping his silken hair back from his delicate face. He left his chambers in silence, the click of his door deafening in the quiet halls. 

Velorca didn't hurry. In fact, he paused a few times to admire himself in whatever reflections he could find. He looked as delicious as always - smooth, unmarred skin the colour of steel, hair like silk draping elegantly over his back, no avian bone out of place. Lorca's lips curved upward in a pleased smile at his appearance, satisfied that he would turn heads wherever he went - most of all this Solis-damned meeting. It irked him that Avdotya - the one being in this cursed temple that had as much reason as he did to hate The Day Court as he did - did not hate it at all. Still, he was attending in the hopes that he might see her again, might speak with her after Maxence said what he needed to say. 

To see her again here was... remarkable.
 
He didn't linger on the memories of her, bloodstained and ferocious, but slipped into the meeting silently, unnoticed and unknown. Lorca shifted from shadow to shadow, finally coming to a pause next to an absolutely delectable mare with golden skin and corn-silk curls. He sniffed loudly, inhaling heat and perfume but finding little to complain about. So, in a rare show of self-control, Lorca remained silent, staring coldly at Maxence. 

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OOC; Lorca snakes in and stands next to Bexley bc she pretty