[Olivine is painfully aware of the instincts of fearful folk. it makes their testimonies shaky, though their concerns are no less valid. if something is terrorising the townsfolk, no matter the reason, something must be done. no person has actually been injured, which is a good sign.
soothing the masses comes first, aided by his reputation as a priest and a protector. his vow is to see to what's happening, to see that their lives are set right—nothing more or less. and so, it's with that in mind that he sets out among the trees. they've spoken of something like a wolf, sandy-furred and too large to be natural. there are a few possibilities thereby, based on his readings, but the priest doesn't want to make assumptions too soon. his feet are sure on the mountainous terrain, even when rocks and pebbles crackle down its surface, unearthed from beneath the dust and caked dirt.
it's the sound of a whine that pulls his attention first, too late to catch the knells of the sheep as he was. he finds that along the path, follows the passing, clumsy sounds into the thick of it all. it stops abruptly for the change, not that he knows that first—whines and snarls rising and fading into the night.
shaking, naked—Olivine can't tell if he's aware, but the sight of him informs a lot of what is and isn't happening here. a werewolf, he's fairly certain; he's never seen one, but there are few creatures that would be this... stuck in between. sweating and scarred, and the priest's brows knit compassionately as he steps forward. a twig snaps underfoot, and he already has his hands up in a semblance of surrender.]
Are you able to understand me?
[the voice that speaks is soft and worried, resonant even in this area. bright green eyes trail over Basch's body in search of injuries, trying to see past whatever blood must be from the earlier sheep. still, he's sure he's in pain, based on the way he's curled up, the scars. it's a danger to be so disarmed even so, but he doesn't care. if he attacks, Olivine will adjust in kind.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-03-08 05:08 pm (UTC)soothing the masses comes first, aided by his reputation as a priest and a protector. his vow is to see to what's happening, to see that their lives are set right—nothing more or less. and so, it's with that in mind that he sets out among the trees. they've spoken of something like a wolf, sandy-furred and too large to be natural. there are a few possibilities thereby, based on his readings, but the priest doesn't want to make assumptions too soon. his feet are sure on the mountainous terrain, even when rocks and pebbles crackle down its surface, unearthed from beneath the dust and caked dirt.
it's the sound of a whine that pulls his attention first, too late to catch the knells of the sheep as he was. he finds that along the path, follows the passing, clumsy sounds into the thick of it all. it stops abruptly for the change, not that he knows that first—whines and snarls rising and fading into the night.
shaking, naked—Olivine can't tell if he's aware, but the sight of him informs a lot of what is and isn't happening here. a werewolf, he's fairly certain; he's never seen one, but there are few creatures that would be this... stuck in between. sweating and scarred, and the priest's brows knit compassionately as he steps forward. a twig snaps underfoot, and he already has his hands up in a semblance of surrender.]
Are you able to understand me?
[the voice that speaks is soft and worried, resonant even in this area. bright green eyes trail over Basch's body in search of injuries, trying to see past whatever blood must be from the earlier sheep. still, he's sure he's in pain, based on the way he's curled up, the scars. it's a danger to be so disarmed even so, but he doesn't care. if he attacks, Olivine will adjust in kind.]