ƬΛIПƬΣD FΣΛƬΉΣЯƧ

A Gift From Death

•~~~•

Ranboo had caught him before he completely fell over, leaning him against a wall so he could keep his balance. Now, Ranboo may not be an Avian or Elytrian, but knows what those noises mean in that order, he remembers as well.

"Are... Are you sure..?" Night just nods, mumbling something to Stinger, something about contacting someone from the Underground because they had healing abilities. Before looking back at Ranboo to answer.

"How could I forget the one that kept us safe from him?" She repeated the sequence again: three clicks, four coos, two whistles, and two failed attempts at hoots.

'Mom.. it has to be mom. Just- please, she has to be ok.'

•~~~•

Phil, while concerned at their peculiar behavior, was not paying attention to it, nor could he care. He had to make sure this person stayed alive, and given the words 'contact help' directed at Stinger, he immediately sets to carefully turn the Elytrian so she's not lying on her wounds, and is instead lying on her side, her wings making her too heavy to move and her wounds making it way too risky to do more.

With practiced hands he finds the worst of her wounds, barely paying attention to where they are just yet and pressing against them to slow the flow of blood. Not before contacting a friend of course. They may not have healing powers, but they should help in keeping the teens calm in the situation. Especially considering the breakdowns they seem to be having.

Meanwhile, after Stinger nods and walks off a couple of feet to call up their friend, asking for help and alerting them that it was such an emergency a hero was helping them, the woman's hazy mind picks up on a familiar pattern. At first she hadn't quite recognized it, but after forcefully bringing her consciousness to at least surface level, the second time it's repeated she almost starts crying, if she'd had any tears left that is.

With as much strength as she could muster, she takes a deep struggling breath and repeats it with a hefty struggle, each sound wobbly and wheezy. She doesn't even make it to the coos before she feels like she's suffocating. Memories of bright yellows, soft browns, green, red and black flash through her mind and she tries again, except this time she skips all of it entirely and hoots once.

It's a deep sound, if one weren't used to it or hadn't known better, it probably would have sounded scary. But she knows these kids. These fledglings. Of course she does. They're hers. She takes another quiet breath and attempts it again, but it's much quieter this time, and Phil ushers her to stop, or she could potentially hurt herself even more.

If her breathing was already raggedy and troubled, now it was labored, as if she'd just finished running a marathon. The hero does his best to help, whistling and softly chirping at her to keep her awake. "It's alright, you'll be alright, help is on the way I promise. Hang in there."

Night broke down and fell to her knees at the sound of the hoot, Theseus sliding down the wall as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Ranboo covered his mouth and turned away, if he cried in his Enderman form it would sting, but he couldn't help it, it had been so long since he had heard that call. So long...