Her first reaction was to protest to him taking his bag from her grasp, though she ended up saying nothing. Zephyra was aware the attempt would be futile, as would be trying to take it back to spare him the weight on his bloodied back, which she could get glimpses of through the tattered shirt. He was injured and worn down, but he was strong, and there was no way she would get it back without causing them both discomfort so she left him to carry it as his pride dictated he should.

Hazel eyes snapped towards him in surprise at his words mentioning what she had done. “It had nothing to do with me saving your face or your pride, Solomon. I wasn’t trying to hide whether or not it would affect you. I did what I did because I didn’t want you to be hurt anymore. You’ve suffered a week, I didn’t think it was merited again.” She spoke genuinely as she led him towards the inn, keeping close in case he collapsed but still trying to offer him some space and distance. “You would have done the same for me.” He had done the same for her.

She was relieved when they reached the inn, grateful that she had thought ahead and already gotten two rooms side by side. At the time, she had assumed Solomon would be grateful for freeing him, though it since had become abundantly clear that he was almost offended by her presence. But so be it, she still stood by having him close, since, in his condition, she knew he would still need help. There was no way he would be able to reach all of his wounds, and chances are he would be too tired. Surely he would be open enough to allow her to at least help and dress his wounds, the woman well aware any kind of professional doctor was out of the question.

Zephyra did not argue with him over his paying for his own lodging, her money only going to last so long as well as hospitality towards her. Especially considering she had pushed it with advocating for Solomon. Though, the money she did have did still technically belong to Solomon, along with Ambrose who was currently resting in the stables. But what did not sit well with her was the fact that she was stopped at his door and opened it, the first words from his mouth were, in essence, that she was to keep her distance and he did not want her help.

“Solomon....” this time she did try to protest, soft voice pleading with him as she was about to ask him to listen to her and reconsider. She was tentative and uncertain, perhaps the reason she got no more than his name out before the door was closed in her face, leaving the woman to stand there alone. He wanted to be left alone, she understood that, but he needed help, and that was that. It left her in a dilemma because it came down to one thing: Zephyra no longer really knew what to do when she had the freedom of choice. During her escape, she was running on adrenaline and drive. When she came for Sol, it was the same thing, everything time-sensitive and not a moment to spare. But now?

She had succeeded in doing what she came to do, but with Solomon acting completely opposite of what she had expected, she was left not knowing. Zeph had prepared herself to get him released, help him, and jump into using her influence and his experience to save the Isles, not... this.

Taking a breath, the woman glanced around, working to get her feet under her in the metaphorical sense. It started with assessing the situation in a new light to come up with a new plan. Solomon needed food, water, and medicine. Except, he refused any of that and she was almost certain he wouldn’t order any service. So she focused on that. Food. Water. Medicine. They were goals and enough for her to wrap her head around and kick back into gear for a little while and to function again.

Moving towards the eating part of the inn, Zeph found herself ordering some soup to come back and grab. She discovered it was very different for her to try and talk to normal people versus the military. The military guards and soldiers kicked in an instinct to play her part, along with her experience from her father. But civilian life? Ordering the soup was somewhat of a challenge mentally, though she managed it and was soon on her way out of the inn to find the closest doctor.

And that was another experience that she found challenging. It required asking people, something that was difficult when she shied away from men and struggled to talk to other women when she felt far less than a woman herself these days. She had been an object and a toy for so long... But she did it, determination and her Zephyra drive winning through to get her to the doctor and eventually getting some medicine and extra supplies to tend to Solomon’s wounds.

With her items in tow, the woman made her way back to the inn as swiftly as she could, ducking inside to grab the soup she had ordered as well. She offered a quiet thank you and paid, also taking the time to get a pitcher of cool water to add to the tray before juggling her wares and returning to stand in front of the prince’s door. A hand reached out, knuckles gently thumping against the door. She doubted he would come or open it, so she simply spoke through the wood, laying the items down in front.

“There is some food, water, and medicine out here for you. In case you’re hungry and thirsty. And the medicine so you can tend to your wounds... I’m not sure if you can reach your back ones but there are some salves, extra bandages, and some pain relievers.” She stood there awkwardly, starting to take a few steps back. “If you need anything, I know you can get it... but if you want help... I’m in the room next to yours.”

And with that, she started back to her own room, reaching out for her door, though she did pause to glance at his, hoping he would at least grab the items she had bought for him.

Once the door was shut behind him, the man took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment as he could finally relax. Instinctively, he tried to lean back against the door, but that proved to be a mistake as he hissed in pain. The man dropped all of his belongings on the floor, which resulted in a resounding thump. He took a few moments to explore the room, finding a tub tucked in a closet. He was grateful for that. He went over to sit on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his grime-coated hands for a few moments, contemplating on what would happen from there.

But Solomon underestimated his exhaustion and it was there, hunched over, that he fell asleep. It was fitful and uncomfortable, but it was sleep. At some point the man teetered back and fell back onto the bed. At that point, the pain it must have caused his backside wasn’t even enough to make him stir. It was the first rest he’d had amidst the days that had bled together with the violence. He didn’t know how long he had been in that cage, too busy being beat to properly tell and keep track of time. So it was safe to say that for the moment he was out cold, though his breaths were still uneven and labored.

He didn’t even awake when Zephyra knocked on the door, which was usually a sound that would have snapped him in consciousness. It was dangerous, the state he was in that left him without his usual instinct, but at least he was safe. That was all he could ask for. It wasn’t until later on, when a floorboard creaked loudly outside, that he awoke. Solomon sat up with a groan and looked around, disoriented. There were quite a few bloodstains where he had laid, not too large, but concerning nonetheless. He rubbed at his face to try and wake himself up, feeling lethargic and dizzy.

Solomon approached the door to inspect the noise, looking worse than the undead in the clothes that were still in tatters. His door opened with it’s own annoying creak and the man found the hallway empty, deducing the noise to having come from one of the other residents. But, what was more interesting was the collection of things at his door. Medicine and food… Zephyra. She had to have done that. The man grimaced but brought it in, not wanting to leave it all outside. But it was abandoned by the door with his stuff, as he was more interested in the bath.

He knew his wounds needed to be wrapped, but there was no use in that if they weren’t clean and in that state the only way his wounds were being cleaned was by a bath. So Solomon filled the tub with water, which happened to be horribly cold, though beggars couldn’t be choosers in that moment. At last, he peeled off his blood and dirt soaked clothes. They were thrown aside so he could soak, the freezing water prickling at his skin. He gave a softer groan as he settled in it, taking the provided cloth to scrub at his limbs. Solomon wanted soap, but he didn’t have any so that had to do.

How long he was in the bathtub, he was unsure. The man dozed and probably even fell back asleep, his fatigue no longer pushed back by his adrenaline and fear. Solomon was safe and his body knew that so it demanded rest. But it needed to wait. He needed to at least wrap his wounds before he fully fell asleep again. Once he felt at least somewhat clean, he heaved himself out of the bathtub and the murky water he had created, taking the time to dry himself before moving for the bandages and clothes. When he had to bend over for his bags he nearly fell, the man managing to catch himself on the wall, which resulted in an echoing “thud”.

He snagged a pair of pants, if they could even be called that considering they only reached the bottom of his calves, and the bandages. Satisfied, he stumbled back over to his bed, though he did tear off the now bloody comforter and tossed it onto the floor, leaving him with a thin sheet. It was then he got to work, wrapping the wounds he could reach. His arms, feet, legs, and hands were tended to as he reached what he could. But then the time came to do his back. If he had been thinking straight, he would have known he couldn’ properly tend to his back, but he wasn’t going to ask for help. He didn’t need help.

At least he thought. The man attempted to wrap his torso, twisting and turning in ways that brought him agony and tore at the scabs that were attempting to form. It wasn’t working. Solomon knew how to wrap his wounds, but he couldn’t do it alone, not perfectly healthy and certainly not in his condition. He released a cry of frustration and threw the bandages on his bed, tearing off the ones he had haphazardly tried to cover his torso with. He was just going to go to sleep. That was all he wanted to do and wrapping his back wasn’t going to happen, not like this.

Zephyra waited a few minutes at her door, hoping that Solomon would come out and take the items she had gotten him. But, after those few minutes, with no Solomon, she finally entered her own room. The woman didn’t know what to do with herself, looking around the empty room as she lifted a hand to rub at her arm. Where was she to even begin? For now, it was best to leave Kele and the others alone until they cooled off and Solomon was well enough to work with them again, and there was nothing she could personally do to help the situation at the moment as she didn’t even know the plans herself.

The woman didn’t want to go out either, not ready for the socialization that would come with a simple trip to the market for simple browsing purposes. She didn’t feel safe anymore out in the world. But now there was no necessity to go anywhere, no place to hide away, and pretending to be a man would do her no favors on the Isles when she had to be herself due to the circumstances.

The current solution was simply ordering her room and putting her stuff out. She already had the bags Solomon had given her in the room, so she spent her timing putting things away, which really came down to some clothes and a few basic necessities. Which took less than an hour to do. Somehow she managed to keep herself busy for two though, moving things around, glancing at her door, or looking out the window. She was nervous. Painfully so. There was nothing for her mind to truly focus on or work to really keep her distracted, leaving her on edge.

The thump was the first thing that caught her attention, her head snapping towards the wall that divided the two rooms. Gingerly, she moved closer, doing her best to listen and make sure he was alright. Instinct wanted to go to his door and ask, but her mind told her that it was unwise to bother him unless absolutely necessary. So she opted for sitting in the chair next to the wall and listen. It gave her something to do, easing her mind some on the front of what to do, and she was rewarded with hearing movement to tell her that he was still alive at least.

Her head rested against the wall, picking up on the soft rustles and grunts as Zeph’s eyes closed as she put her full focus there. At least until the frustrated yell snapped her into a sitting position, concern painting her features as she was on her feet. She had no idea what had caused it, but it was evident that something wasn’t going right and it wouldn’t unless someone helped. It was expected considering his condition, but he wouldn’t let her help before. She wasn’t sure he would let her now, but she would have to try at least.

It was with caution that she exited her own room, looking around before moving to Solomon’s door to knock on it. “Solomon? Can I help you with anything? I don’t have anything to do anyway and it might make something easier for you.” It was her attempt at reasoning with the man while not coming across as though he needed it, even though he did.

Her hand rested on the doorknob as she spoke, and the woman gave it a very slight turn, surprised to see that it did. Considering the supplies were gone that she had left for him, she could only surmise that he forgot to lock the door after he had taken them. She cracked the door open, though didn’t make a move to look or step inside. “Let me help so you can rest.”

Solomon was done. Completely and utterly done. Nothing had even truly begun, but he was already spent. He had come to the Eastern Isles with a plan and had held steadfast with his determination within the cell that had become his personal hell. As soon as he had been released, it had all come crashing down. He felt broken, in both his body and spirit. It was odd, to feel without purpose. Well, Solomon had a purpose, but the people he had wanted to help had tortured and abused him, leaving him a state near death despite him having told the truth.

The man understood their place, why they had done so. They had a man whom they’d hated at their whim who had arrived defenseless and without a want to fight back. So they took that power and ran with it. Solomon knew a lot of it had been more for satisfaction than information. The mercenaries had wanted him dead, as had the soldiers that had come for his blood. He had a feeling they would allow him to speak again because their country was at risk, but they wanted his information, not him. They only left him there because they needed him. His expertise on Concorba would be unrivaled.

But he was quickly realizing how bad he would be treated. They would take his information and continue to treat him like dirt. He also felt that was justified, but could Solomon take it? Could he accept being treated in such a manner despite the fact he would be working tirelessly to save them? He had already been given a babysitter. Tired eyes looked over at Zephyra’s room coldly. He was no longer sure that this idea had been smart. He had been too hopeful… too caught up in the moment with a want to try and fix his mistakes. The former prince now hated his empire, but they had been right about one thing… to be emotional was to be weak.

And now he was stuck on the Isles. Solomon knew, deep down beyond the pain, that he still wanted to help, but these conditions… he didn’t like them nor did he feel the need to withstand them. Not when he already had nothing left. He picked the bandages up off the floor, setting the roll on the nightstand and throwing the ones he’d attempted to wrap himself with in a waste bin next to his bed. He eyed his bag from across the room, knowing he should at least put a shirt on rather than leaving the wounds exposed. That would just create an even bigger disaster.

Solomon started to get to his feet, but froze when there was a knock on the door. His frown grew deeper, if possible, when Zephyra began to talk to him. He just… Why couldn’t she leave him alone? He gave a deep rumble of displeasure as the door opened, suddenly acutely aware that his space was being violated. “You always seem keen to remind me that I always must make sure my door is locked. Are you here to make me bathe clothed again because I need to be supervised?” He growled out, lumbering over to his bag to grab a shirt so he could cover himself.

He tugged the shirt over his head, the garment a sleeveless one. He didn’t want her to see his back, if possible. Then she would begin to insist on helping and the man just wanted to be left alone, even if it left him with a bloody shirt. “I asked for one thing,” Solomon rasped, clearing his throat, though it didn’t make it much better, “To be left alone. I don’t want to be talked to and I don’t want to be touched. I don’t need your help to rest. What I need is peace and quiet. I don’t know how long I was in that cell, but it was long enough to warrant some reprieve. Alone.”

Zephyra gave a slight flinch against his words, shaking her head though he could not see. Would he forever hold against her every time she had tried to help him? “I did not come to supervise you,” she tried her best to explain, keeping herself out of his room and staring at the wood of his door instead. The woman fell silent to hear him go on about just how much he did not want her there, and for the first time, it truly sank in that things were different with them then they had been before. She was no longer his problem. His life was no longer entwined with hers as it had forcibly been so before. He owed her no amount of civility or any further kindness. She was as much a stranger to him now as she was to the rest of the world.

As the door was pulled open, she instinctively stepped back, looking over his form. He had hidden his injuries with his shirt, but didn’t he realize she had already gotten a glimpse of some of the damage to know it was not that simple? Though it didn’t matter as he was making it clear, her hazel orbs drifting to glance at the supplies she had gotten him, left where they were. It was to be expected but the realization that he meant to cut her off totally left her in an even worse place than she was before. Not that she intended to abandon him, because at the end of the day, the Isles... the world... needed Solomon alive.

“I know you don’t want help. I’m not so dumb as to not be able to read people. I learned how to do that long ago.” She took a breath, relying on her determination and brain to try and work through this. “You are a stubborn man but I also know you are logical. You need someone to look at your back for you... if not me, then I will find someone who will but I have a feeling you would prefer me over someone you do not know.” She was walking a dangerous line, she knew that, a hand rubbing her other hand as a nervous habit. The rules were different now that she was free... for both of them.

“I have no other place to put my efforts, and the money is yours. I cannot help the people here, not alone. I did not see enough of your paperwork to have anything helpful for them. Nor did Josef ever leave any of his things out when I came in. I have no pertinent information for these people but you do. And you can’t help them if you let your injuries get worse. You were there almost a week and with your knowledge of wounds, I am sure you know what that can mean.” She was sure he had tended to most of his wounds but there was no way he could have cleaned his back wounds well, and from the frustrated yell, she knew something had gone wrong.

Zephyra still made no effort to move closer without his invitation, but she stood her ground. “Please. I have nothing more to do with my time. Besides, you will not be able to rest very well without all your injuries handled.”

Footsteps caused her to pause, head swiveling in the direction of them as a man walked past towards his room. She immediately tensed, taking retreating steps away as moved by them, her gaze falling, though she kept an eye on him from her peripheral vision. Habit insisted she make herself as small as possible and avoid even the slightest of confrontation. She didn't want to attract attention to herself unless absolutely necessary. It was subconsciously that she noted which room he lived in with a mental note to avoid it. It wasn’t until he disappeared that she turned back to Solomon, slowly starting to relax the tiniest amount.

Solomon just stood at the door, aching with every breath but keeping his stoic face. He was safe and he was well aware she didn’t want to hurt him, but letting his guard down was off the table. He couldn’t be weak. He wasn’t weak. He just needed to rest. He was human and he had been run down to nothing. Solomon was aware he needed to heal, both in mind and body, but he wanted to do it alone, away from people. The man had learned how to lead, to fight, and even how to die, but never in his life had anyone taught the man that it was okay to be helped.

But this woman kept insisting. She wouldn’t leave him alone. Typically, when one refused enough, they would be left alone. With Zephyra, it wasn’t the case. She just kept wanting to help him. He would sneer, snap, and snarl. He would reject and be nasty, do anything he could to get her to leave him alone, but it didn’t seem to work. Because if it had, she wouldn’t be here, opening his door to try and convince him to let her wrap his back. She wouldn’t have purchased then left all that stuff outside his door in hopes that he would accept her kindness. Frankly, Solomon didn’t understand the persistence.

He crossed his arms, looking down at her with a look of intense displeasure. He didn’t prefer her over a doctor, or a doctor over her. Solomon preferred to be left alone and that was that. What didn’t she understand? She claimed she could read people, but continued to shove her nose into his life. He’d set her free, yet she’d come back to free him. Now, she’d set him up at an inn, bought him medical supplies, and now wanted to help him. None of which he’d asked for or wanted. Zephyra baffled him. She baffled him and it was extremely frustrating all around.

Solomon opened his mouth to speak when a man walked past, heading to his own room. Visibly, she shrank, clearly apprehensive of the other resident. How had she gone out to buy food and supplies if this was her reaction to people? It was a question he would never ask her. “I don’t need anything and if I decided I wanted to recover, I certainly wouldn’t do so to save the country that tortured me to near death for a week.” He finally responded, golden eyes cold and frustrated. He was close to just shutting and locking the door because that seemed to be the only way to get her out of his way.

But Solomon didn’t. Deep down, he had a feeling she would just continue to pester him. “If I die, that’s on them. They cannot kill me in a way that matters.” He shrugged and shifted to lean against the doorway to better support himself. The man needed to lay down. “And you shouldn’t care about that either. You’re wasting your efforts and breath on someone who will not ever share even a fraction of your care.” How long would it take for her to understand that he would never want her help or even show a shred of gratitude for it? How long would it take for her to see that her offers only made him bitter and angry?

Most importantly, how long would it take for her to stop? “I asked you to leave me alone. We are nothing but strangers and you forget your place in my life. There isn’t one.” Solomon spoke bluntly, voice still rough but monotonous, “Nor do I have one in yours.” The man didn’t hate Zephyra. She wasn’t someone he could hate. He just didn’t want her around, meddling in his affairs. Even now, she was poking her nose into his bubble, invading his space like she had any right to it. Solomon had rarely even tolerated his family in his space, so why would she ever be allowed within the bubble he had created?

“But if you’re going to continue to insist and not leave me alone, I’ll compromise… If you can call it that.” He ventured, making an offer that would leave him with a win if she rejected, but also wouldn’t kill him if she accepted. “I’ll let you in to look at my back if you agree to leave me alone for a few days. Alone. I don’t want to hear from you or have you in my quarters.” He told her, pushing himself off the doorway with a grunt and stepping back to reach for the doorknob, “You can say no, but I’ll be shutting the door.”

She could sense his frustration, not that he was trying to hide it in the least, the look in his eyes, face, and rolling from his words. Zephyra was well aware he owed her nothing and that she was not part of his life. And it wasn’t that she necessarily wanted to be or was trying to weasel her way in. The woman held no affections or bond to the man. At the end of the day, she had returned to save him because he was the only one who could help the Isles and perhaps, help the other territories that had been taken over. He had seemed, at their parting and the times between, that he was truly against the injustice of his own home, but now that was dulled out.

At this point, Zeph persisted to try and help him for two reasons. The first because she wanted him to be able to help against the Concorbans. The second was because she had a gentle heart that hated to watch people suffer. Combine those with her need to focus on one thing, the man was the one to get her attention. Though, she walked on a dangerous line that she was starting to realize. Things were different now that she was not a prisoner and he was not a prince.

When it came to the offer, she knew she would have to take the compromise. Truth was, she had no issue with him having time to himself. Her issue was with the fact that he needed help and was refusing it. Until this point at least. If he wanted a few days to rest after, the woman didn’t have the slightest problem with that. “That is reasonable.”

Zephyra stepped inside, letting the door close behind her as she reached down to claim the supplies she had gotten him that had not been touched. “I want you to know, this isn’t about having a place in anyone’s life. It never was. I insisted on helping because you are hurt and I don’t care for seeing people hurt. Anyone. I assumed you wouldn’t let anyone even a fraction as close as you let me.” With the bandages and medicine in hand, she started towards the bed so she could finally get a closer look at his back and see the extent of damage that had been done.

Pushing strands of hazel hair from her face, she made a quick glance around the room, taking everything in rather quickly just out of habit. It did seem as though he had tried to wrap his back himself, and the tub she caught a glimpse of gave her at least some faith that he had sense enough to do some kind of cleaning. She marveled that he had been able to survive this long with his stubbornness to refuse help, and from the amount of scarring that she had hence far seen, it was obvious he had many instances where it was probably necessary.

“Let me see your back please,” she asked as she sat on the edge, waiting for Solomon to reveal the wounds to her. “After this, I give you my word that I will not bother you for a few days. You’ll need them to rest anyway. And if you do not want to stay here after what they’ve done to you here, Ambrose is in the stables. I won’t be needing him anymore.” Was that really true? Zephyra had no idea. Because she no longer knew what to do, whether she should stay or leave. But she did know that the horse belonged to the man, whether or not he had gifted it to her, and she would return him to his rightful owner.

Solomon stepped aside as she accepted his offer, though he wished he would’ve made it a week rather than just a couple of days. It didn’t matter much, since he doubted she would really bother him anyway. It wasn’t as if they were friends, nor would they ever be. They were people that had met under horrible circumstances that had somehow ended up in each other's lives once more, that was all. The man hoped that after today, she would be satisfied with her work on his back and leave him be. It would be best for everyone involved if that were the case.

But at least he was out, though the circumstances of his release were not what he had wanted. He could think about what was coming next and what he wanted to do. The decision to come to the Isles had been one he’d meditated for over a month, but it had still been emotional and brash. Solomon hadn’t thought about a lot of outcomes and overall, he had acted illogically. There had been a lot of pressure, the overarching idea of death from a failed attempt, and of course, he was now in a world that wanted him dead. None of it had been easy. Not in the slightest.

Solomon could only predict so much, especially when he was trying to slyly plan an escape under his former nation's nose. “You care more about my pain than I do. You shouldn’t.” He seemed to reiterate his same words, just as she repeated her insistence to help him over and over again. It seemed like they were always having that same conversation, where one was always fighting against the other. “I recommend you mind your own life instead of trying to help me with mine. My wounds are none of your concern and neither is my well-being.”

His eyes watched her as she moved around briefly and settled on his bed, waiting for him to join her. The man looked over at her skeptically, ready to turn back and not allow her anywhere near him. He didn’t want her touching him. The mere thought of having someone lay hands on him, even if it was someone he trusted, was not anticipated whatsoever. Solomon clenched his fists for a moment and glanced warily at the bed, debating. He could see her out then and there, just forget about his back, and sleep it off. It all seemed like a better option than letting someone into his personal space.

But after a few more moments of silent deliberation, the man pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, the back of it already dotted with blood. It was then he finally bared his back to her, sitting on the edge of the bed in front of her. “I’ll rest when I’m dead Zephyra. I’ve dealt with worse injuries than these.” He huffed, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the pants he wore, “I’ll be fine by tomorrow.” The words were most certainly not true, as it would probably be weeks before he was completely healed, but it didn’t mean he would give himself the proper rest.

“I will be staying.” He told her, though anyone else in his position would have thought he was insane, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.” The Isles were the only somewhat safe place he had at the moment. Everywhere else he would most likely be executed. His days were numbered no matter where he was, but at least the Isles extended his lifespan somewhat, “I had a plan, so I’ll stick to it. Whether they accept my help or not is up to them.” He shrugged, knowing he could only offer his knowledge, but he could not force them to accept it.

“So keep the horse. He’s yours now, not mine.” Solomon told her, as he still wanted her to take the horse and leave the islands. She wasn’t supposed to be there. “He’ll take you home on the day you are ready to go, whenever that may be.” He hoped she would leave soon. Things were going to get worse and fast. Solomon had saved her, but she had thrown herself back into the fray without even truly having a chance to enjoy her freedom. The man hoped she would have the sense to leave the nation before it was too late. The peace wouldn’t last forever.

Why she found some security when she was in a room with him, she would never know or understand. There was no reason for Zeph to feel safe, especially when he was brewing and especially in an angry mood. And yet, there was no doubt in her mind that he would not hurt her. Well, it always lingered, but she held a pretty strong certainty that she was safe, unlike her reaction to the total stranger that happened to walk by. Or the anxiety-filled trip into the market that she had suffered through to try and offer help that Solomon refused. Though he was sure to remind her that he did not appreciate her help, nor would he ever.

Still, he acquiesced and took off his shirt, sinking onto the bed so she could finally see the damage done. Hazel eyes took in the bloody, mauled skin in its totality for the first time, blinking at just how bad it all was. How he could ever convince himself that it would be alright to just leave it, she did not know. What she did though, was that she sat in silence as he talked, taking it in and trying to form some kind of doable plan to go about cleaning it and wrapping it. Because it would need just a bit more with the medicine.

“I won’t be using him anymore,” she repeated, getting up to wet down a cloth before returning to her former spot behind him. “I plan on staying for a while, and when I do leave, I will take another way. So you are welcome to use him if you do ever need him, or even to just say hi to him. I know you were attached to him.” She offered that part of the truth before searching for a small talk topic, which was not easy. SO she went with talking about his horse. “He handled very well while I had him, and I was sure to keep to his feeding as you instructed.”

She poured some of the medicine onto the warm cloth before very gently placing it to his back against the wounds, being as careful as one could in that situation. “How long have you had him? How old is he?” she questioned, both curious and trying to give the man something to be distracted by. Not that a person could just be distracted like that when they were having very tender and sore wounds being messed with and treated.

Zephyra squeezed the cloth to try and get it to run down his back in various places, doing her best to make sure everything was gotten. The woman picked up a thing or two while living with the soldiers, not to mention what she learned from her own home when her father would come back and sometimes tell her when she asked how certain things were treated. She certainly wasn’t the best, nor did she have extensive knowledge, but it was enough to try and do her best for him. The woman gently dabbed around the wounds after that before carefully taking the other medicine, more of a salve.

Truth was, she had a feeling some spots would be better if they were stitched, but she was not about to even suggest that. Instead, she gingerly adding the lotion-like substance where she could before adding some to a clean cloth and dabbing it in the needed areas. Zephyra could not imagine the pain he was suffering through, but she could only hope it would fend away any infection and help with the healing process, and some of the pain once it all settled.

With that done, she finally grabbing the bandages and began wrapping around his torso, long fingers quick and precise in the work now. “Hopefully that will make it even a little more comfortable for you to sleep and move around,” she remarked, tucking the bandage in. She had become remarkably calm in the process, acting much less nervous than before as she finally had something to focus on and keep her mind occupied, though her voice was still soft in nature. “It shouldn’t get worse though.” She lifted her eyes to look at the man as she finally stood and grabbed the water he had left to the side, bringing it over.

“You should drink and then sleep...” Zephyra was already starting for the door, not wanting to overstay her already unwelcome presence, but she did pause to look at him one more time.

Solomon flinched the moment she touched him and several times after that. It was humiliating, to say the least. He just needed some time to get used to touch again. He had never liked to be touched, but now, he was almost afraid of it. Every part of him was tense and it took a lot of self-control to not leap away from her. She was hurting him, but he knew she didn’t mean it. He just had to convince himself she wasn’t trying to hurt him, that she was just trying to help. It was hard. It was so hard. He squeezed his eyes shut and hoped it was over quickly so he could just sleep.

But it wasn’t over quickly, not for him at least. It hurt. He was in more pain than he had been before, but he didn’t make a sound. His sore, cracked fingers only dug painfully into his thighs while his entire body tensed. He should’ve laid down for at least the cleaning process. He gritted his teeth so hard that the vein in his neck probably popped out. Solomon felt like he was getting a headache. It was a lot, but he wasn’t backing out. He wasn’t going to be weak or cry out in pain. He just needed to withstand it. Once it was over it was over and he never had to go through it again.

His horse… she had asked him about Ambrose. Usually he wasn’t a talker, but it was a welcome distraction from the agony in his back. The wounds were deep, which was why they hurt horribly. Solomon knew from the pain he needed stitches but he just couldn’t. Not right now. “His name means immortal…” It wasn’t a question she had asked, but he told her anyway, “I thought it was fitting for a war horse. They usually die young… so maybe the name would have been a blessing to live longer and survive.” The man clamped his mouth shut to stifle a cry at the salves.

“I got him when he was three, it’s been five years since then. The breeder-” He cut himself off with a sharp intake of air, “specializes in both breeding and training them for war. We’ve traveled across the world together.” Solomon concluded, trying to think about the horse to distract himself. He wanted to see his horse… it was the only piece of home he had left with him. He had given him to Zephyra out of necessity, but he was glad he had the chance to see the stallion again. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to sell him to stay financially afloat.

Solomon was more than relieved when she started bandaging, the fresh pain subsiding into something that was a mixture of stinging and throbbing. He was lucky he hadn’t passed out during the whole ordeal from the excess of stress and agony. He did sway once or twice on the verge of unconsciousness, but he managed to stay awake. When she was done, tired, hurting eyes met hers as she handed him water and surprisingly he took it, though he only stared at it from where he held it in his lap. “I’ll be fine. Worry about your own wellbeing. The horse is yours to use for whatever you need on the island.” After a moment, he shifted and placed it on the floor, watching her walk towards her exit.

Though she paused, which somewhat confused him. “Is there something else you need? Or want from me?” He asked, though he was a lot less bristly than before. He was too tired to be angry. “Speak now or forever hold your peace. I meant it when I said I wanted to be left completely alone for three days. I need time to myself.” Solomon spoke firmly and was most definitely not budging on the matter, “I ask that this time you actually respect my wishes.” He needed to think and to devise a new plan, since his other one had been a lot more fragile than previously anticipated.

"You should consider leaving. There is nothing for you here." Solomon added, staring down at the wraps that coated his feet, "You said it yourself, you don't have my plans or know what they are. What purpose would you have?" Fingers ran over the bandages on his arms, "You cannot fight and you clearly don't like people. You should go home. At least search for your family. There is no point in staying at a place that will soon see war. "