Lance

Lance does not remember most his hatchling-hood, not really.

What he does remember is training; every day, training to become stronger than his inherent weakness would allow, training to make use of the potent virus that leaks crimson from his claws.

Except... he could not.

He flexed his claws, watching the bright red markings of them stand out against the white of his plumage.

It was not as if the other Crows of his home did not attempt to help; he does remember that much, remembers them encouraging them in their monotone way to not fall behind his siblings and Clanmates.

Remembers their confusion at his weakness.

It was not as if he did not have the ability to make use of his virus - he did, it was as simple as any other Crow might be able to make use of it - but his 'weakness' was much more physical rather than viral.

After all, how could one be able to fight, to hold against their own, if their own heart was betraying them?

Lance let out a breath, closing his eyes to still the thrumming in his body, the rustle of his wings.

Ever since he left - as he knew he was only a liability to his fellow Clanmates and Crows, it was only logical - he has been finding himself more and more affected with... emotions, and more concerning, questioning morals.

He huffed at the thought; they were all illogical and had no use, except for being otherwise problematic when making the decision to infect someone or not. It was only survival of the strongest, after all, no morals, emotions, or anything otherwise involved.

Except he himself should not be alive if that were true, for even with his strength and training, he was still far too weak with his hinderingly frail body.

He stopped that line of thought before his mind could yet again betray him with dwelling on something he himself can not change.

But either way he had left, wandering across Sornieth in search of anyone who could possibly have a 'cure' to his health status.

Admittedly, it was slow going.

For one, finding someone who was not a Crow nor a Clanmate he could trust was all but impossible.

His inability to fight not withstanding, it was just innate nature to be able to trust someone with his life who has no reason to, and waiting for the other shoe to drop is something he does not enjoy in the slightest and grates on his otherwise non-existent pride as a Crow.

For another, his status as a Crow makes it even harder to find someone who can treat him at all without getting infected themself.

He had had the passing thought of wearing gloves or some kind of barrier so as not to accidentally inflict those who could treat him...

But no; he was already physically weak, to do such a thing was a massive show of trust as he would be even more vulnerable, that he would not do to those who have not proved themselves to be worthy of it.

And yet...

Lance silently watched and listened as the one who called herself 'Blossom' bustled about, humming and muttering to herself in the quite large room that would have reminded him of some of the labs he had seen in the Shifting Expanse except for the fact that it was much more like the medical areas of the Labyrinth he vaguely remembers of, with dried herbs hanging from the ceiling and great, bay windows letting in what he learned was the ever-bright sunlight of the Ruins.

For all that he was wary and cautious, keeping all of his senses on even a hint of danger, the reminiscent feel of his old 'home' had the ability to relax him, ever so slightly.

He knew it was a mistake to do, another weakness, but he was unable to help himself.

After all, it was not every day that he came across a Plague Dragon, a Flight he had long since associated with every bit of the lifestyle he grew with, only to find them... passive. Not hostile; moreso, as a healer.

How could one that was the very essence of the harsh reality of life be able to be so optimistic? It was illogical.

Just as illogical as it was for him to find it 'relaxing' to be around a Dragon that was essentially his natural enemy as a Nature Dragon, and have a higher resistance to his toxins.

But perhaps that was a good thing? After all, he could not as easily accidentally affect her as he could others.

Nonetheless, he reasoned to himself to watch and listen for the time being. Though there has been suspiciously little to no wariness from both the Plague Dragon and the others of the Clan, he would not let his guard down completely; after all, he was a Crow, and even in his weakened state, he was strong.

For now, he would just watch, and listen.