The wars of children.

Euron was one of those left behind, when Kingsfoil had gone off with a sense of excitement and purpose to him. The foal had watched him go and thought nothing of it, lingering behind with Kutu/Ashtoreth and the other herbivores that lived in Orion. He'd used the opportunity to think and doze, settling himself into a crypt-like ruin, comforted by the closeness of its walls, and letting his brain ruffle through the developing knowledge of his element. There was so much to learn, so much to feel, so much to do. He could feel the life pulsing-- well, everywhere-- product of the crowded bacterial world, and not everyone felt that, he'd learned.

Ashtoreth he mostly ignored. That was generally what he did, when Kingsfoil left the carnivore either directly in his care or left her behind. His feelings were complicated; some latent morality urged him to be kind to her, but she was a carnivore and lesser and Kingsfoil had very clearly set the standard by which she should be treated through example. And Euron did, very much enjoy lording over her (/lording over anything), exercising and perpetuating and solidifying his superiority. But that didn't require being cruel, and so often that's what things with Ashtoreth came down to. So, out of a complicated mix of guilt and frustrated stubbornness, he left her alone with Kingsfoil wasn't around. She'd enjoy some time to herself, he figured, and this way that little nagging part of himself wouldn't urge him to apologize.

Euron should never, ever apologize. It just wasn't him

A smell on the air distracted him-- one that he was instinctively familiar with, despite the fact of his being a herbivore. Bacteria knew what blood smelled like. Something bleeding in Orion, around the time Kingsfoil was due back, jerked him out of his reverie instantly. He pulled himself from the comfortable little crypt space he'd been dozing in, honing in immediately on the source of the smell.

Eos. The other horse. Terribly wounded. Even Euron's stomach turned at the sight of those burn wounds, shining and fresh and achingly raw in the night. He closed the distance between them. "You look gruesome." he said, bluntly, bedside manner not included with his reluctant usefulness as an occasional healer. "Hold still-- this is important-- I don't want to get this wrong."

He reached into the knowledge he'd been so recently examining, half by instinct and half by intention, casting the ability he'd been born with on Eosphoros. There was bacteria in every wound, just as there was bacteria in everyone. Some of that bacteria could be very harmful, if it grew out of control-- others more beneficial. With his micro-cloud, he reached out and called those beneficial ones, promoting their growth, infusing the air around Eosphoros with more of them. He couldn't heal the wound directly, but hopefully he could make conditions within it more optimal to healing, and give the infection-causing bacteria a harder challenge.

That done, he looked between the three of them, eyes wide. He hadn't asked what they were going to go do. "What happened?" he asked, unable to stop the question.

@Eosphoros @Ashtoreth @Kingsfoil @Thistle @Hasira

Eos' mask was effective-- not expecting it, Euron started and shied, his heart pounding in his ears as she skittered backwards on long little foal legs, barely managing to keep his balance. That wouldn't stop the effectiveness of the bacteria-- they would do their jobs in their slow-but-overwhelming way, whether or not Euron was around to direct him-- he just wouldn't add more to their number, not scared as he was.

But the fear subsided within a few minutes that seemed to stretch much longer, and in its stead came embarrassment, hot and nauseating. The exposed, soft skin of his muzzle blushed red with humiliation, as he realized that-- as scary as Eos looked, and still looked, that Kingsfoil had brought him here and that he'd just showed an embarrassing display of fear in front of his sworn prince, in front of the others who had-- like him-- sworn loyalty to to sworn prince. He hated that, showing weakness, showing fear. Lesser things did that, carnivores did that, and he wasn't like them. He was brave and fearless and a knight and knights didn't run away from scary burned and injured horses who could barely stand, even if those horses had scary faces made of shadows.

And, paradoxically, alongside that shame, he still felt the fear of Eos's shadow-face; the defense was doing its job.

In the impetuousness of youth, he sniffed, tried to look above it. His voice was thin and shakey, though, when he announced to Eos, loud enough for the entire syndicate of herbivore babies to hear, "Fine, see if I help you again." IT was meant to make him sound above this issue, and it probably didn't work.

With that, he moved towards Thistle instead, intent on ignoring Eos' scary face. "Someone else is hurt?" he asked brusquely, not really the kind to be a healer by temperament or inclination-- just by fluke of which spells he knew. When he saw what Thistle was speaking softly to, he looked unimpressed, and suppressed the fluke of ill-feeling and guilt that Ashtoreth's suffering always brought him. He was getting good at it. "Oh, that." he said, with a frown. "That's Kingsfoil's carnivore servant. She's never well. Weak constitution, like all carnivores." he sighed, but figured he might as well do something regardless. It probably wouldn't do well for Ashtoreth to die while technically under his watch. "That's Kingsfoil's carnivore servant. She's never well. Weak constitution, like all carnivores."

And he reached inside and cast the same thing he'd done to Eosphoros, as much for something to do to distract himself from the continued presence of the scary-faced and heavily-burned stallion in the doorway as anything else.

@ashtoreth @thistle @Eosphoros