01-10-2017, 02:18 AM
Oh, it was so good to be back! Back in the norm, with the freedom to be as sober (or not) as he damn well pleased. At present, he is pleasantly blitzed. Not enough for slurring and stumbling and double vision, just enough to feel really good and warm. Ahh, perfect. His massive body moves at an easy pace through the forest, not minding the cold of winter one bit. The light reflects off his pure white coat, marked with red only on the top of his head and streaked through his mane and tail. His pleasure is marked plainly on his face, a slight smile in place (when was the last time he'd smiled?) and eyelids at half-mast.
That is, until the scent of blood invades his nostrils, causing them to flare at the pungent odor. Blue-green gaze finds her quickly, and the sight of her is like a punch to the gut. Times ten. Frowning, and without thinking, he is drawn to her. His direction changes towards her before he even fully made the decision to. Is she alive? Yes, he realizes, as he nears her and catches the soft sobs that rack her. He'd never in his life seen anything more pitiful. There were wounds everywhere, deliberately placed and obviously intended to cause pain. Her rear end.. Bloody hell. And her face, crusted with tears and her eyes glazed over. With one deep breath, Reilly clears his intoxication away so that he can focus. It doesn't take much for him to piece together what'd been done to her. Bloody fucking hell.
Stopping at her head, a few steps away, he nickers softly at her. "Ay, there, lassie. Can ya hear me?" He wouldn't dare ask if she was alright. All evidence obviously points otherwise. Irish accent lilting his deep voice, he tries to encourage her. "Come, dearie. Ya gotta get up out'a that." Blood pooled around her, but had congealed and had begun attracting flies. Damn, but he doesn't know what to do in this situation. He wants to step forward, wants to nudge her and get her up. But he won't, not yet. Not with what'd happened to her. "My name is Reilly. I'm not gonna hurt ya, lass. Can ya tell me your name?" Shit, what was he gonna do? He could certainly make her feel better in his special way, but he wouldn't until she was at least up and talking. Damn the bastard that would do this to her. Poor thing..
((This is sucky, and am sorry. Reilly is very very concerned <3))
That is, until the scent of blood invades his nostrils, causing them to flare at the pungent odor. Blue-green gaze finds her quickly, and the sight of her is like a punch to the gut. Times ten. Frowning, and without thinking, he is drawn to her. His direction changes towards her before he even fully made the decision to. Is she alive? Yes, he realizes, as he nears her and catches the soft sobs that rack her. He'd never in his life seen anything more pitiful. There were wounds everywhere, deliberately placed and obviously intended to cause pain. Her rear end.. Bloody hell. And her face, crusted with tears and her eyes glazed over. With one deep breath, Reilly clears his intoxication away so that he can focus. It doesn't take much for him to piece together what'd been done to her. Bloody fucking hell.
Stopping at her head, a few steps away, he nickers softly at her. "Ay, there, lassie. Can ya hear me?" He wouldn't dare ask if she was alright. All evidence obviously points otherwise. Irish accent lilting his deep voice, he tries to encourage her. "Come, dearie. Ya gotta get up out'a that." Blood pooled around her, but had congealed and had begun attracting flies. Damn, but he doesn't know what to do in this situation. He wants to step forward, wants to nudge her and get her up. But he won't, not yet. Not with what'd happened to her. "My name is Reilly. I'm not gonna hurt ya, lass. Can ya tell me your name?" Shit, what was he gonna do? He could certainly make her feel better in his special way, but he wouldn't until she was at least up and talking. Damn the bastard that would do this to her. Poor thing..
((This is sucky, and am sorry. Reilly is very very concerned <3))
