David pulls a can of vegetable soup from his large cargo backpack, getting out his multi tool pocket knife and opening the can, giving up the conversation. She’d come in handy the next day or two while they worked through the horde, then they could split. And as of now he was looking forward to it.
Ryder watches them pulls out their little meals, knowing David would only take a few bites of the soup before saving the rest. He turns back to Gabriel who groaned over in the corner, doing his best to crawl towards them. He smiles, bending down and retrieving the jar he’d put down Gabriel’s sweater before he had approached Frenchie. “You hungry, big guy?”
Per usual, Gabriel leans forward to go at Ryder’s arm again as Ryder unscrews the lid of the black jar. “Want something to eat?” He sets down the open jar, standing and pulling Gabriel’s arms behind his back and zip tying them together.
He gives his back a pat, walking back around to spill out a small pile of fresh guts from the jar, slime and blood oozing off of them. Immediately drawn by the smell of blood, Gabriel turns to the guts and Ryder undoes the back of his muzzle, leaving him to eat away at the small pile. Ryder dusts his hands off, looking at the muzzle full of saliva.
That’s… gross but go at it.
David does his best to not look, but the sound of Gabriel eating in the far corner still made him lose his appetite.
Dang it, that’s disgusting, Ryder!
-
Clovis accepts the roll of gauze, looking back to Onyx. “Ahm, he‘ll be alright, don’t worry about it.” He says, not necessarily sternly, but you could tell he was still wary of her. The less she knew about Onyx at least, the better. He walks back to Onyx, pulling a cloth, his water and a cream from his knapsack. He kneels beside the kid, gently unwrapping the gauze that was stuck to his pale body with the thick, dry blood. Onyx gives a little bit of a wince as the bandage directly over the wound is pulled off, but nothing more. A gash, about an inch wide in the thickest area, stretches from his stomach area to underneath his left armpit. It’s can’t be deeper than an inch, but it must be fairly fresh because it still is wet with thick, dark blood. Across his back are a few small cuts, like from that of a barbed wire fence. Clovis dumps just a small amount of water from their water bottle onto a cloth, dapping the wound carefully with concentration.
Onyx stands perfectly still, not reacting to the touch at all. If his hands weren’t covered in dirt and germs, he’d have half a mind to run his fingers through the cut to feel it. It wasn’t everyday you had an 8 inch gash across your torso.
.jpg)
