AsylumClan Hospital

[Satsujin]

Here is where the thereapists sleep. These caves are above the barracks, but below the Cell Block. These tunnels and caverns usually smell like herbs and blood, for these are the healers as well as punishers of AsylumClan.

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[confetti. says meow]

Lostheart awoke to the scent of musty blood and herbs, which he smelled every day. It wasn't as good as fresh blood, but he still enjoyed it dearly. The large tom got onto his paws, and his chilling blue gaze swept the room.

[clouds [gone</3]]

The point's blue eyes hazily struck open, blinking lazily to rid herself of the deep slumber she was enticed to enter one more time. No, she was a therapist; they were pretty important, right? The cat pushed herself to her short-legs, her lush and long tail swaying out behind her. Jamacia shook out her pretty fur, inhaling deeply of a new day. But that same scent drifted in to her nose. Eugh, blood. Herbs; she loved, they were so interesting!

Jamacia witholds a diamond collar around her ivory neck, a black leather studded with angled diamonds. No one knows how it came about. Or how she got it. The curved bodice of the short-legged she-cat pushed past Lostheart. Glancing over her shoulder, and a flick of her tail beneath his chin was the only greeting she granted him with.

Now to rid herself of that smell. Of course, Jamacia's lies and plans had made her believable with her insaneness. But even then, she was the more normal of the cats. Whenever doubted, Jamacia just does something remarkable in till the next time. Slipping out of the caverns and tunnels, the cat finally made it in to the open air.

[confetti. says meow]

The tom shook out his ragged white pelt, or what was left of it. The fur on or around his many jagged scars had been slashed off, and what remained of it was short and choppy. Of course, this was AsylumClan, not a beauty pageant. He didn't strive to be good-looking, nor did he ever wish for less scars or a perfect pelt.

 Lostheart took in the scent of blood once more, before heading towards the crimson light of dawn. He felt rested and refreshed after a good night's sleep, and he was ready to face a new day.

[Mr. Yuss]

Two golden cosmos materialized in the dim light, belonging to the dark brown shape they call Demiseambition. The feline lifted himself to his paws, rising to full height. The short figure's optics gazed around the area as he inhaled the lovely scent of herbs and blood. Ah, blood. The smoke's eyes rested on Jamacia, and he gave her a small bob of his head as a greeting. The morning often didn't bring the familiar, devilish smile often played across his lips, but he still looked rather wicked. Raw scars slashed across his flank, the evil look portrayed through his blazing ocular. The chocolate smoke parted his maw in a small yawn.

[clouds [gone</3]]

Jamacia was already out in to the open air, sitting outside the caves. She groomed her fur to perfection, ridding it of it's blood and herb smell. She usually rolled around in a few flowers or catnip so she smelled nice, and she loved the feeling that cats were enticed by her. Standing to her short legs, the beautiful cat made her way to the hospital. Moving gracefully to the place where kits tortured and patients tested upon.

[confetti. says meow]

Lostheart unsheathed his hook-shaped claws, and licked the extra blood off of them with faulse daintiness. He was near the entrance of the Hospital, and the morning light shone on his bone-white fur. This was one of his favorite activities, grooming, as weird as it sounded for a cat such as he to enjoy it. He matted down his fur with saliva, to make it look less ragged and choppy, He didn't bother to wash off the scent of blood, because he enjoyed it.

 After he was as well-groomed as he really wanted to be (which wasn't much), Lostheart turned back to the shadows. He padded deeper into the Hospital, the blood-and-herb smell getting stronger the farther down he went.

[Wolfin !?]

There was a shadow in the back, moving along with meticulous care. A slight shuffling. The scent of herbs, cloying with blood, surrounded him. It was the scent of the Hospital, and it clung to his fur.

Rip, or Doctor Rip as he insisted upon being known, was organizing some herbs into messy piles based on strength and design. Sometimes, he would stop and rearrange them a different way, as though he couldn't decide how he wanted it.

Golden eyes shifted to take in the appraoching Lostheart.

[byebee]

An albino cat padded into the Hospital, blood seeping from a wound on his shoulder. It wasn't anything fatal nor would it prove to be a lasting injury, it was just a wound. While out patrolling the Jungle territory, he had come across a caiman that had latched itself onto him. It hadn't been large, probably a juvenile, but it had been done damage.

So now Grimreaper was coming to the Therapists for a quick touch up. "Hey, I need some healing here. Come and do your jobs." The novice didn't much care whether or not they took his statement offensively, that's how it was meant to be taken. His tail lay across the ground, covered in mud that he had trekked in which had sealed his fate with the reptile.

[clouds [gone</3]]

Jamacia's head turned over her shoulder to see a pink-eyed tom rudely adress the therapists. The short-legged point turned on her heels and circled the white tom, her aqua blue eyes studying the wound. She smirked at his remark and placed her lush tail over his mouth. 'Does it hurt a lot?' She meowed, grabbing some marigold and cobwebs from her neat pile.

[Wolfin !?]

Rip's eyes shifted from Lostheart to Grimreaper, then narrowed.

"Yes yes..." he breathed, getting up and padding slowly over, sweeping a pile of poppy seeds with him. "I'm Commandeering this one." he spat at Jamacia, then turned back to the albino. "You'll need to eat them. All of them."

If this wasn't such a good opportunity, the Therapist would have called it a bore and carried on with his organizing. However, having this stupid cat stuffed with poppyseeds and sedated was the best way to do whatever the hell he wanted with him.

[byebee]

"Put your tail near my mouth again and I'll bite it off." Grimreaper would take action if she did: he didn't appreciate the contact between him and another cat unless he was ripping it apart with his claws. "Well of course it hurts. Would I be hear if it didn't?" He waited for her to actually start her job so that she could finally leave this place that stank of herbs, overpowering the wondrous scent of blood. His face remained a mask of calmness while he was terribly impatient on the inside just awaiting for the sting of some type of poultice.

Then Rip intruded, probably just prolonging his treatment. "I'm no little b***h, I can take the pain." He knew what poppyseeds were and knew that they would cause you to fall asleep. But he wasn't prepared to do so when the bright of day was still present and would allow him to hunt all the animals awake before they slept.

[clouds [gone</3]]

The point snarled, rolling her blue eyes with disgust. It seemed she was at the bottom of the pile. And even the novices spoke back to her, but she laughed, in that sweetly false way. She didn't hate her fellow therapist, but being kind was frowned upon here-so she kept up the flirty suductress. The short point inhaled silently, but only ran her long tail over Rip's shoulder and under his chin before flauntering away again. Looking over her ivory shoulder, the curved she-cat smirked softly, 'See you in hell, Doctor Rip.' She mused softly, her voice dropping with false honey and sweetness. 

[Wolfin !?]

Rip ignored his fellow Therapist, snorting slightly as her tail slipped under his chin as though it were nothing but a minor annoyance to be brushed away. He didn't even respond to her words, too busy with staring down his nose at Grimreaper.

A mocking grin was on his face in a flash. "If you're no little bitch, why are you even here? It's not a serious wound. If you don't want treatment you can leave and take your chances with infection. In fact, that sounds like a good idea! You can come back in one to two weeks so I can see how the infection is growing..."

"...Or, you can swallow those poppyseeds like I told you," he finished cheerfully.

[Mr. Yuss]

"Oh, why all this foul language? It gives me a headache," came the smooth tone of Demiseambition, watching from his place with an amused assertion, his devilish grin beginning to play out across his maw. He breathed in the scent of the red fluid dripping from Grimreaper's shoulder, enjoying the fresh scent of blood over the stale scent flowing through the Hospital. The smoke took a step forward, but not anymore, since Rip felt the need to take care of this irritable Novice on his own.