The young fae that was my beloved seemed surprised when she is addressed by the calm, beautiful, relaxed healer that was Onni. Her entire frame seems to wince, not in pain, but in a brief moment of shock, as if she was not expecting her offer of aid to actually be accepted. I tilt my handsome façade from my position behind her, wondering at why she should be surprised, did she truly think so little of herself, of her abilities? Instead of allowing the sense of fear to overwhelm our bond, I send torrents of trust, faith, relentless confidence in her back, flooding both herself and myself with the emotion, allowing her to focus on nothing else. I feel her surprise again, as she throws a glance over her slanted shoulder to meet my cerulean eyes with her own, and I smile back, my tongue lolling easily out of the side of my mouth.

The wretched bird above us continues its incessant squawking, and still I remain crouched, knowing that I would not be well received in the eyes of a worried companion fretting over her fallen bondmate - certainly I would probably be behaving the same if a similar fate befell my beloved, but I would never allow that to happen in the first place, anyway. Cirrus obediently gets to work, looking often to the older, wiser healer for guidance, reassurance that she was not pulverising the herbs in a way that would destroy their healing properties. Of course, she performs the task with perfection, co-ordinating her hooves against the stone with slowly improving strokes, nudging the mash towards Onni upon her completion. Her ears perk upwards as the painted mistress speaks then, though her words are not directed towards my little sky filly, rather, she addresses the stirring unconsciousness of the fallen with a firm yet soothing tone.

He coughs, splutters, struggles, but eventually, he spits out what could be a name. Coris? It is an unusual name, but then, I have not seen many unicorns, and none which encase their horn in a the skin of another animal. I wonder silently if he is strange to everyone, to just to me eyes, not that the opinion of a hellhound counts towards anything, except perhaps the thoughtstream of the one bonded with me. Twitching muscles tense across his thrashing body, it is good to see that the wounds which plague him do not affect the nerves, at least in the sense of severed nerves, that would result in no movement at all. The dark tail of my beloved is lifted and swung to her flank, and I pick up on the annoyed tension that is being generated within her, as the tedious task of healing proves to be almost as difficult as the task of defeating one's sparring partner. It is with a little bit of astonishment that I watch her next actions.

"Do shut up," her angelic voice had taken on a harsh tone, one that easily conveyed the limits of her patience, directed at the fussing, panicked form of the falcon, whose incessant racket was indeed irritating and counterproductive, at least in our eyes. "Uh, I mean.." Cirrus hesitates then, as she realises what she just said in front of the healer, a sheepish look upon her façade. It was fortunate that the unicorn seemed to be coming to, that the situation was seemingly on the improve, conditions less critical. "Just calm down," her attempt at trying to sound reassuring would be amusing in hindsight, I am sure, as it wavers uncertainly between sounding comforting and sounding like a command given by someone twice her rank. "I am Cirrus, sir. What is your bird's name?" Once again her voice attempts kindness, but probably sounds far too harsh and demanding for a healer's soothing tones.

At least she is trying, right?

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