[ AW ] Temporary Dens

Sussex relief site

The brisk air from the ocean taints the black, occupied beaches with the tang of salt. Many along the charcoal ground are not used to it, so their noises twitch with irritation as their legs shake, grown weary from the long travel. Many soldiers that had been recruited to help escort groups down towards the sands inspect some of the cliff side, helping those who are not from the Mainlands into temporary homes. It is hard to find a cleared out space for the many that seek a safe harbor from the blazing sun in the North, but the Imperial Army members try to make due. Stocks are running low with the amount of strangers from the North flooding into the place that the heatwave barely touches. A few of the soldiers head off to hunt, trying to find resources to take care of the hungry. The black sands are well-traveled and seeing more motion than they had in years.

Those from the College are trying to help in small places such as gathering herbs for those hurt. Even the Commonwealth can pitch in with something as small as offering a paw to soldiers to help dig dens or offer what goods they have. And, of course, the Thieves' Guild offers no help and seeks the unguarded Highlands and Lowlands for nefarious purposes.


How to interact:

You may post here as a general purpose area for those who are helping or being escorted to their temporary dens within Sussex.

A R Y T H M E T I K

Arythmetik looked up from the poultice one of his students just concocted, offering a curt, approving nod before diverting his attention elsewhere. (Two young wolves arrived at the camp an hour earlier, covered in gashes from passing out and suffering nasty falls.) There were a myriad of cases like that these days. Heat stroke itself was dangerous enough, but the side effects were compounding in a way no one could have anticipated. Aryth may have enrolled two new students in the spring, but they were busy women; it was an awful time for youth-enrollment to be low. Rionnach desperately needed healers. Any aspirations Aryth had of following Grigori’s advice and pursuing his dreams were crushed beneath the weight of the sun’s blazing heat.


At least the scholar didn’t have to worry about his boyfriend. Being separated was unfortunate, but he knew Grigori grew up in a desert climate. If anyone could handle this heat wave, it was that roguish sassenach. The Arboretum itself couldn’t fare as well. The only home that Aryth had ever known was withered and dying. As if his heart hadn’t been battered enough by the Jacobites’ actions, the suffering of beautiful Melrose was the blow that threatened to crack his heart in twain. But he couldn’t think about that now. He needed to stay occupied. He needed to perform his duties and help the newcomers. Most of his time the past week was spent at Castle Stuart, but he’d arrived in Sussex last night to bring critical herbs.


Panting lightly behind a mouthful of those very herbs, he set out across the black sand. Chamomile and fennel (known to ease the effects of dehydration) hung from his tender jaws as he approached one of the new arrivals now.

code by claerie

@Caspian

caspian "Damn it to the gods, moon and sun, to hell with them both," he snapped as he stared at the "relief" camp ahead. It was marked by the shade, the sound of water, and the stench of the mainland. There was something clinical about it, as if even the air had been tamed and forced into "civilized" compliance. At least Sussex still had the tinge of salt and seaweed to its aroma. That small, saving grace could never bow to a Mainlander's need to force capitulation. There was no dominating the sea, not with paws and teeth. "If we had gods, they'd scorch these lands, ay?" Caspian glanced at the weary, heat-stroke afflicted wolf next to him. The lad was from Aberdeen and had passed out at the crest of a hill, the effort having drained him of all his energy. Such a thing would have been fine if not for gravity. When he was next conscious, he was staring up at Caspian's sun-shadowed face. While the Seafarer had been on the fence about going to the relief camps, he'd finally made the choice based on his mother's condition. Now with this kid, he was forced to even more. Having left his mother with Islay and Black, Caspian had brought this boy over to the wolves that smelled of herbs and earth. Healers, he assumed. There were some in Aberdeen too, Eolas trained... although Caspian chose not to see them out of principle. Principle wouldn't save this kid's life, however. Almost immediately upon hobbling up, a brown wolf was scuttling over. "He's pretty banged up," Caspian commented as if such an obvious thing required announcement. "speech"

art & table ▸ bunny

A R Y T H M E T I K

A male’s gruff complaints caught Aryth’s attention from yards away, and his emerald eyes turned to the newcomer. (How could he not notice?) But the Professor wasn’t surprised. Heat stroke made most of the wolves who arrived here irritable. Most of them simply weren’t so…loud. In spite of himself and his own exhaustion, a grin pricked at the corner of Arythmetik’s maw. By the time he closed the distance between himself and the grouch, however, the scholar managed to stifle his apparent humor. He was faced with a male much larger than himself—striking, in fact, with his seafoam eyes and two-toned coat—and it wouldn’t be wise to offend. Instead, Aryth started his greeting with a nod and an assessing glance between the impressive male and the small, dazed boy.


“Ay, indeed.” Aryth gently placed the Chamomile and Fennel in front of the two strangers. As he moved, the sun blazed like fire against the faint flecks of red and gold in his otherwise earthy coat. “Firstly, you should each chew on equal parts of those two herbs,” he said warmly, straightening. “At least until the fresh water comes ‘round. It’ll help ease your dehydration.” Here, the scholar smiled softly at the boy, then glanced knowingly at the sea-salt brute. “Please, even if you don’t feel too rough. Now, let’s get to work on these cuts…”


With any luck, they’d both follow him a few steps over to one of the tents. Aryth grabbed a shell filled with poultice and started to apply it to the child’s wounds. The pup was somewhat unresponsive to his words, and Aryth’s expression deepened thoughtfully. “My name is Professor Arythmetik, by the by. Is this lad your relative?”

code by claerie

@Caspian