It was true that Grayson was a bit taller than Ravenna and about as bulky, though she looked more stalwart from her shorter body frame. That didn't mean she would worry about him harassing her later. Grayson seemed more depressed and introverted than anything and Ravenna, she was a primordial creature of passion. Let loose on the world she could drag it kicking and scream down into the flames. It was through the bloodlines of Mistletoe that Ravenna held even the slightest bit of calm. Mistletoe had tamed Warlow and in doing so had ensured that her children would not be completely wild. That did not mean that she wasn't a nasty creature at times, grinning down at the pained figure with flashing canines and a mean streak to her that enjoyed his discomfort.
It would be a shame for him if Ravenna had to drag his ass up out of the sand by tooth and sheer will. In the end he might have a few more wounds to add to his bruised body though she would surely treat them all once she deposited him somewhere with better healing properties. At the moment all his flinching and scrambling was driving sand and dirt into a few open wounds. As she waits for him she imagines the moment she pushes him into the sea surf, the moment when that salt burns into his wounds to clean out any start of infection and dirt. How pissed he would be then and how much she would love to kick his legs out from under him until she was certain he was clean enough.
"I guess you starved yourself too for good measure," she quips when he stands, noting the way his body seems to sink in on itself and bones peek out. Hell, she wouldn't put it past him. He had said he wanted to die but starving seemed a stupid way to go - just like drowning. He should have jumped off a very big cliff straight down into some canyons. No way he could survive that - and if he did, it wouldn't have been for long.
Ravenna starts forward at his demand, noting the way he sways and the way he clenches his teeth against the pain. Grayson wobbles and bumps into her hips and she, in turn, jerks them towards him to steady him. This would be a slow trip, she thinks, and sighs loudly before measuring her steps so that she could be his support when his balance got thrown off. It was a slow, boring trip for her and no doubt a painful, agonized one for him, but finally she leads him to a den close to the roar of the beach. She can see the waves through the trees and nudges him past the den and towards the surf, paws sinking into the hot sand.
"I need to cleanse your wounds. Even if you want to die, gray boy, you won't be doing it on my watch. Come on."
There is no room for disagreement. If he tried to turn around she would herd him off and if she had to, she would use her stocky body to drive him into the surf with a few added bites and nips for good measure. If he dropped, well, she would have to continue her dragging as before, and the gleam in her pale eyes should tell him what was coming.
"At least you came to the ocean. Pretty good place to get healed, you know, and if you didn't know that, maybe the fates brought you here." Now she rambled, her mind churning as the idea of fate hits her and her pupils widen when she looks at him again. Was he a gift from fate? Maybe not that all consuming bond like her mother and father had, but a gift since she had cried out about it not too long ago?
Ravenna