"I'll do it for you."
Hostilities within the White Fang had only increased as of late; they were more violent, more vicious in their protests. And he found âtwas hard to fault them, when the humans had been doing much worse for as long as he could recall. Howbeit, this also lead to a certain fear in the air ( everyone could feel it; it surrounded them constantly ) of which affected even the members. And âtwas when he allowed another member to isolate him that he realized this--they had led him away from camp straight into an ambush of humans and faunus alike. As a leader heâd dealt with people questioning his authority, though something akin to an assassination attempt was not a familiarity. And he was unsuspecting of such an outcome--although he did notice something was astray, âtwas not as if one could predict a trusted ally would betray him so easily. And âtwas from the fear that they did as such, so scared and unsure of who to trust. He could relate. Though fury outweighed fear, and anger was a mask he wore oh-so well.
Hence he left with at least a few cuts & bruises--most of which his aura could fix in mere moments, however these were among some deeper slashes. One laid across his back, and he knew it--if not more--would require stitches. âPon his arrival at the camp, there was some commotion ( âwhat happened, whereâs the others, are you alright--â ); his answers were quick and short, just trying to reach his tent and the medical supplies. Pain was blooming across his torso, and blood with it no doubt; his back and stomach were the worst. He was always stubborn on tending to himself; he neednât burden others with such a task. âTwas not as if any of them were doctors, and in most cases he hardly took any dangerous blows. This time ... was one of few, and he would attempt to make it the last.
Blake entered quietly, almost catching him off guard ( though adrenaline still lingered from earlier ). Cloistered eyne meet hers and ire crumbled to naught but a ghost; she calmed his shaking hands & heart. She wished to inquire as to what happened, he could tell, but âtwas not exactly the best time to ask. Perchance when his mood lightened and his bleeding stopped, he would inform her. And she speaks just as quietly as she walks, worry clinging to her statement. Her words would generally be refused, albeit weariness led to poor suturing skills, and he would not be able to reach the wound across his back. Thus a nod is given.
    â Thank you. â
