Wilma
The elf lied on the floor. While the stranger exchanged words with Psyche and left, her ally seemed frozen and numbed completely. Once she neared and reached her hand out, there was no response. Should she have been patient for a few seconds, he'd swing his hand up to accept her offer. He pushed himself off the ground as she pulled and stood up. The vampire had clearly taken a harsh blow, yet his expression remained stern. His icy hand pushed her hair out of the way before he inspected her face. *"You seem in a good condition."*

He spun and headed towards his sword, the one he had dropped when he received the punch. Lucien picked it up and neared his horse, his boots crushing the spread out rubble. After sheathing the blade he took the reins and dragged his mount closer. He approached Psyche and offered his hand. The violet flare in his eyes, the freezing grasp of his aura - they were gone. Instead, two endless voids made up his irises. After a dragged sigh and a careful once over, his hand slithered past the edges of his dusty cloak. He froze it midair, stretched towards her. *"If my memory does not betray me, I recall we were both in a hurry last time. I am Lucien."*

Should she have accepted his handshake, his grip would be firm albeit not rough. The wind caressed his messy black hair, revealing more of his flawless skin and sharp ear. From up close she could discern the sharp jawline that complemented his handsome looks. He'd let go and jump onto his saddle and giving her a hand again. *"I suggest that we head somewhere safer. We can have a chat on the road."*
Heather
The Oni waited, patiently, with her arm outstretched and unmoving until it was taken. Then she pulled, feeling a pinch in her shoulder closest to her 'growth' as she did so, and stepped back. Her head tilts as she examines the wound, focus still shifted there when he reaches out to inspect her face, pushing tangled hair out of the way. Aside from the dampness of sweat that had coated it, and the mixture from the vial on her mouth and smeared at the corner, she is fine it seems. Or close to it as she ever is. 

"How is your wound?" She asks as he walks away to retrieve his sword, quietly stowing her arrows and tapping her fingers to her thumb as she silently counts how many arrows she'll need to replace. They probably wouldn't take kindly to her retrieving them from horses, or... Shields of flesh. She pauses as she walks to pick up that arrow at least, stowing it away. She lifts the edge of her shirt to examine the wound on her side, ignoring the odd network of weals and bumps that have begun to appear on her skin as of late; They grow in intensity it seems higher up her skin, well hidden by her shirt. Pausing she sees the hand and lets go of the fabric.

She shakes, grip loose and fingers still hot from the bowstring pressing into them. "We are Psyche." We now, always *We* Though the second lurker was not plainly visible. Her pale eyes focused on him, albeit briefly, then she paused as he walked to the horse and climbed into the saddle. Seeing the outstretched hand she hesitates, one of those... Eyes landing nearby, and focusing itself where the stranger went before taking off in that direction. Reaching up she takes the hand, allowing him to help her up now.

"We will watch the road, but we may not have killed all of the riders. Moving would be ideal."
Wilma
*"I am fine, thank you for worrying. That hit was refreshing, haven't had one of that scale in a while. It was as if it scrambled my insides. It missed my vitals, though, so I'm alright."* Lucien had noticed her reactions or, to be precise, the lack thereof. It tickled him in an odd way - made him curious. Thus, he relied on his enhanced periphery vision to keep an eye on her and what she did while he went to grab his odachi. The view of her tearing arrows out of flesh and dirt did not disturb him, for his eyes were set on something else. His gaze flickered towards her body every now and then, rarely enough to allow him the focus on his task yet often enough to inspect her unusual condition. Swelling bruises stretched all over her torso. She didn't seem to pay them much heed, revealing that it were naught new to her.

Psyche. *They* Were Psyche. *"A pleasure to meet you."* The elf did not probe further and instead proceeded as initially planned. Once he boosted her onto the saddle, Roy set off towards the path. Their choice of travel was through the ruins, away from the directions towards their recent battle. Lucien uttered no word until they found cobblestone, lit up by the setting sun. They'd pass by folks of all kinds on the road - a sign that they were nearing safety. The birds chanting melodies, the laughs and chit chat, the stream of a small river nearby - it all brought a temporary serenity into light.
Lucien's cloak budged before a shadow reached out of it. Shaped as a hand, it held a small bottle of alcohol with cloth wrapped around its neck. *"Are you able to treat it yourself, or shall I?"* He questioned. After a brief pause for her answer, he sighed in relief. He spoke smoother by that point, perhaps having recovered from the devastating strike.
_ _

*"That's one way to encounter an acquaintance, I suppose."* He concluded in a matter-of-fact fashion. As they reached past the tall trees, they could discern the outline of a village. It wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes to reach, judging by their much calmer pace. *"My immediate assumption is the abnormalities on your body have to do with what they want, no? Could you expand on your disease?"* Despite the fact that he had assumed she was sick, he did not seem bothered by being near her.
Heather
Arrows collected, she carefully stows the bow on her back. A close eye would note as she did so, she avoided a spot high on her back and near the middle; just nearly below her neck. That same spot was visibly swollen though the shape of it was hidden beneath her shirt and the patched traveling cloak she had on, the hood hiding much of its mass and shape. It seemed as if she had picked the cloak for that purpose entirely, to hide whatever was growing there.

"Likewise," She said, going through the motions of the introduction as he let go and then she was boosted upward. She settled in as Roy set off, the odd birds following at a distance; Keeping sight on the surrounding area and the paths behind them. Her head rolled forward slightly so her dampened forehead bounced periodically against Lucien's back, eyes unseeing as she focused on the three summons she had. She heard the strike of hooves on cobblestone. Through one eye she saw the sign. She saw birds before they took flight from the oddity viewing them. All signs of safety; The birds would be gone at threat of violence. 

She felt the bottle of alcohol, and the cloth, and shifted back before taking them and letting her vision clear. Wordlessly, she begins dressing her wound in the motions of someone used to self treatment. While she said nothing, another voice commented softly, "**We can do it.**"

Though without the chaos, was that the woman's voice? It sounded oddly formed. Psyche continues to patch herself, her focus on the task at hand as she responses continue without her input. "**Disease?**" With bemusement in the voice. Something else that separates the voice from the woman. After a few minutes, and as she finishes dressing her side, Psyche murmurs, "I don't believe we're diseased. We simply haven't finished growing yet."

Slipping the bottle back to the hands that had formed she turns her head. Nothing they could see following them. That was good at least. "If you please, we also do not wish to see a Healer. It has not been an amenable situation in times past."