[P] I'll cool your fever till the doctor comes;

[Acton]

Acton Not yet corpses. Still, we rot.   Where had he been for the rest of the night? It didn’t matter; already it had blurred into hazy memory against the blade-sharp focus of the here, the now. The sweet-sharp smell of the pines and the starlight on their skin and Reichenbach at his side – the way it had been, the way (as far as Acton was concerned) that it always should be. He didn’t even try to keep the grin from his dark mouth, the swagger from his steps. There were parts of himself he had to keep hidden, sometimes, but not this one. Never this one. As soon as he’d seen his king he’d known something bloody was coming. There was, of course, some measure of guilt at the pain writ in Reichenbach’s brilliant eyes, but Acton had never had a terribly high opinion of romance; as far as he was concerned, this was how it always ended. And if a particularly nasty breakup meant he got to brawl once more alongside his brother, well. Love never stood a chance. He wanted to laugh when he first caught sight of their prey. Not much but shadow and antlers, this late, but he could see the curls of his hair, a hint of dapples in his coat. Poor man, poor god, poor fool; the buckskin ran his tongue across his teeth, felt each muscle taught with adrenaline, counted down the beat-beat-beat of his heart until their gypsy king gave the signal. Acton wanted to leap forward but forced it to a strut; his amber eyes gleamed to see Raum step from the shadows like mist rolling over the snow, to see Lavinia close in, too. He couldn’t help the shiver, half cold, half anticipation, and neither can he help the click of his teeth as he closed in off the stallion’s left shoulder. “I hope you had plenty to drink, friend,” he said, and grinned a hangman’s grin. @Lavinia @Raum @Reichenbach @Lysander