It had been a brighter morning than usual, and even better - it was a happier one, too.
Veltar being awake was invaluable to the team with his knowledge of medicine and antidotes. Once he gave Ajax instructions and details on poplars, beech trees, and rose bushes, Lara set out with him to find what they could.
"What can we do?" Joss asked to Veltar, who still looked tired and sick.
The mortal form of the recovering wolf was rather nice for being so lanky. His long black and brown hair was shaggy and unkempt, and his eyes even though tired with black rings under them were still beautiful to look at. He had something called central heterochromia and it made his eyes look like something from the demonic bloodline. His iris started out as pitch black, but evolved into a bright yellow dotted with gold that surrounded his black pupil,and then another line of black separated the yellow hues in a thin line as though his entire iris had thick black circle around it. They looked a lot like an eclipse of the sun.
Despite his weakness, Veltar was consumed with the effort to save Syrana, and he replied bluntly. "Water - boiling water. Cups...or bowls... something I can mix things in. Mortar and pestle - or a rock and a flat enough surface. Fish bones, but more importantly - fish meat for me, please. I'm starving."
Jyriah smiled just a little bit to see one of his best friends alive again, but his spirit was still low with both of his sisters still unconscious. At least Myranda and Metas' wounds were slowly closing, but neither of them had moved from the position they were left in together.
"I'm glad you're awake," the red-headed male finally said. While his tone was tired and depressed, he still meant his words. "We'll bring you back everything you've asked for. Just wait here."
"I don't think I have the strength to move anyway. Sitting up is hard enough. I just need something to eat and some water - and I'll be able to think more clearly," Veltar replied with a yawn towards the end of his words.
"Alright. Just..don't die, please.." Jyriah said with a half-jesting tone. He needed some distractions anyway, and as usual humor was his favorite outlet.
Veltar waved to him as they left, and then turned his attention to Syrana. He didn't want to alarm anyone - or have them ask pestering questions as he examined her body for signs of severe damage.
'I'm going to ask Metas if I can skin Silas,' he thought bitterly as he gently and slowly rolled Syrana onto her side so he could check her back for settled blood, or worse things he didn't want to think of.
"Rana..." he let out with disappointment. There were scars all over her back - some of them rather new, and the marking he had once given her on her neck had tried to be covered by Silas, but it seemed his mouth was too small to cover up Veltar's mighty clamp on his mate's nape.
The rage that mounted within him had now become fuel to live. He had to take revenge on Silas before he died. He didn't care how or when - he just wanted to accomplish it.
There was a little bit of pooled blood near her lower back, which to him indicated that the poison had infiltrated her gastric system. She wasn't dead, though - and her veins weren't purple or bulged out near her spine and skull.
"I'll save you, Rana. I swear to you - I'll save you and give you the life we've always wanted together. I can't wait to meet your daughter. I can't wait to have a pup of our own together. I just need you to stay with me a little longer," Veltar said with a weak smile as he gently rolled her onto her back and inspected her wrist and underarms.
Blood bruising - the poison had infiltrated her vascular system and caused hemorrhaging in several key places. Her skin was alabaster pale now, and her eyelids looked as though someone had painted them with blue and black mica powder.
Her eyes were more than likely completely damaged. He'd still try to heal that, too. With their bond severed thanks to Silas and his disgusting display of power, the healing he once could have bestowed upon her was limited.
Veltar had never known hatred so deep and wretched as the pool of vitriol he had for Silas. He almost didn't want to kill him. He wanted to throw him in the same dungeon he was put in, and feed him cyanide along with Veltar's own gleeful happiness as he watched the lowlife who did this to his beloved suffer the same fate.
All the battered male could do now was sit next to his true mate, and give her dry, cold skin gentle kisses and nudges from his nose. It should have been an unpleasant feeling, but instead it brought fluttering to his stomach with each spot he touched with his lips. Even in this state, his attraction and desire to be at her side were still very powerful.
As he waited for the party of four to return, his focus stayed on checking all of Syrana's limbs and extremities. Her fingers were a little blue, but not terribly so. Her toes were a little worse, but at least her feet were still free of signs of damage.
She wasn't dead. She had a chance - and now a better one if they brought back anything he listed. Most of all, he hoped they found rosewood. Regardless, anything he got his hands on, he would make it work.
His only fear is that she would possibly resent him for the rest of her days if she wanted to die rather than life with an affliction. The Syrana he knew wouldn't want to die. The wolf inside of her had always been strong and ardent. She'd be able to adjust and adapt because of who she was, and Veltar would be there every step of the way - even if she hated him.