These wounds, they will not heal :( :(

Cordova 
#1
Immediately after "Poor little rich boy"


He had assumed she would drive here — automatically he considered shape-shifting from a Were's perspective, and not the effortless bit of illusion magic of which vampires were capable. So he lurked under a stairwell, blood dripping steadily from the gaping wounds on his face, and thought, twenty minutes. Perhaps help would arrive before further trouble.

He thought, she could get him out of here. Perhaps he could sleep safely in her apartment, which was not connected at all to himself or the lions, and he would let the rest of his brain deal with the rest of things in the morning. For now he just needed secrecy, shelter, and a way to stop the bleeding.
Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#2


As soon as she got past the gate with the key code, she slowed her car and cast a wary gaze through the quiet parking garage. She didn’t exactly know what she was supposed to expect. A massacre? Something bloody and dramatic? Or Sokol hiding with a body somewhere?

The answer came in the form of the stench that her windows had no hope of blocking out. Not Were, no, not lion. Blood. Just. So much blood. It didn’t smell appetizing, like human blood, but it was still sharp and briny and almost sickening if she was capable of feeling nauseous.

It wasn’t hard to find the source. Safiya, with a tight frown to pair with low set eyebrows, would pull her car toward the stair well. There wasn’t immediately the sight of a lion, but when she parked and hopped out, a few steps closer and a peek under the stair well confirmed it. Sokol was huddled there. Or... she was almost sure it was Sokol. The gigantic cream colored lion that she’d climbed around in a tree with was in his place. Cream, if it wasn’t for the surreal amount of blood that matted his fur and beautiful soft mane.

He looked like he’d fucking showered in it.

As for his face... it was a lion face, but through the blood she could see there were pieces... missing? At least extremely injured. Torn skin and just... so much blood. More than she expected. Safiya was struck dumb for a moment, holding air in her lungs and just taking it in. If her heart could beat, it would have been in the back of her throat. She still felt hoarse despite that as she searched for words.

“Oh- Sokol...” Was all that came out in nearly a whisper. Her poor boy :(. For now, there was only concern, the anger would come later.
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#3
Car coming in. It would have the attendant stink of decaying flesh, but Sokol was in no condition to catch it. So instead he listened, waiting for a text or for Safiya to sniff him out.

Which she did. Footsteps approaching, but no beating heart. She looked horrified when she saw him. He only blinked back, breathing slowly around the phone and wallet in his mouth, and crawled forward to try to drop them in her hands. Even crouching, they were almost face to face; she was very small. "Hurt. Don't know if I can come back to here." Another slow, woolly blink, as he felt for how long he could keep this form. "Tired."
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#4
It was hard to make her brain accept that this was Sokol, her beautiful blonde European son. He was, in this moment, not much more than a wounded animal. His movement brought with it another waft of stinking blood, which she closed her nose and lungs to as he came to drop the bloody, slobbery items into her hands. She glanced down to pocket them as he spoke in his monstrous voice.

Tired. Who knew how long he’d been shifted, and how long he could go until he had to pass out. He needed to be inside, get cleaned up and patched up. She didn’t know the first fucking thing about first aide, but he’d called her here, so she was going to try to help. “Okay. Can you- do you want to shift back? I can...” What could you do, Safiya?

Take him to Lavender Heights?? Call Beauregard? One of the medics? Maybe. Or didn’t he have lion friends? He needed to get somewhere safe now. Here, she could bring him inside. She could make him look clothed, clean and just drunk. “I can get you inside without anyone noticing.” Just needed the keys. Where were his keys?
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#5
He listened and thought as best he could. It was difficult. Remembering his keys meant hearing a car horn echoing off the cement walls, the key smashed under the heel of a shoe, thrown into the sewer grate. Thinking of shifting back in his apartment felt like running into an obvious dead end to hide. He huff, huffed slowly as he thought.

Eventually, without answers, his pale eyes met hers again. "He threw them. Police will be here soon. Have to leave." Perhaps Sokol would have risked a lengthier exit, to retrieve essentials, to keep his car. But the lion knew a trap when he saw it. He needed out.
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#6
"He" was, she guessed, the shifter he attacked. The shifter he killed. He wondered where the body was. Questions for later, when they figured this all out. The mention of police was indication enough that this wasn't some freaky brief shuffle that ended in a death. This had been bad, and she was the emergency escape. Think fast, Safiya. This was messy, and there was probably cameras. Bringing the mess to Lavender Heights was, immediately, ruled out. There wasn't even any guarantee she would get help from the rest of the Clutch. She had to figure something else out.

"Okay, okay." She would say with a nod, and take a step back toward her car, "Let me get the back seats laid down, and you get in." With that, she would turn and hurry to do just that, opening the side back door that he would need to squeeze into; the trunk was too obvious. A few long moments of shoving shit to her floorboards, then laying down the bench seat in the back. It wasn't perfect, and it would be a tight fit through the door, but it would have to do. Her eyes would move either way down the parking garage, looking for any oncoming vehicles. None. "Okay, hurry, get in and shut the door." She would whisper sharply as she moved to head for her own driver's side, intending to peel out of here as soon as he got the door shut.
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#7
He was compliant, crawling into the back and struggling to turn around and get the door. His face hurt. He was wet, still bleeding. He needed to sleep.

As Safiya accelerated, he curled up and laid his chin on his arms, unable to stop a few sad lion sounds from rumbling out of his ruined face.
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#8
Good boy.

The car was immediately filled with the worst animal smell, and she promptly blocked all airways. Except, well, as she pulled up toward the gate and slowed to let it open, she had to take in some air to make words. "Whats you phone code?" She questioned. If he was stubborn, then, well. She'd have to make it happen. This was the only option that wasn't just dumping him in the woods and hoping shit worked itself out. He asked her to help, so she was going to help. The best option was for him to be with someone of his own kind. She didn't know the first fucking thing about Were healing.
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#9
He heard the question as his brain was shutting down. It sounded like nothing, just human words. By the time she investigated the lack of answer from the back, he would be out already, a blood-soaked man taking the place of the lion.

Oops :(.
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#10
Motherfucker.

She slammed her head into the back of the seat, and would let out a sharp sigh before cutting off her airways and pulling out of the garage. It wouldn't be for another few minutes, when he was fully naked in her back seat and fucking bleeding that she pulled over into an abandoned parking lot and pulled out her own. Okay. Think. What Weres do you know, Safiya?

One was right there at the top of her contacts.


and here we go. Off on a weekend at bernie's adventure!

Wehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh



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