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Ahala groaned a little and moved a bit int he creature's arms. He didn't struggle. He didn't fight. He wasn't completely conscious, just moving to relieve the pain in his back.

Isaac stopped, he heard footsteps. He turned, seeing the faint outline of Voltyan and Ahala. He stood there, an axe in his hands. He tilted his head. Just staring at them.

It probably felt like he was running in a never-ending path of lush. Despite being only one lonesome road, the surroundings seemed puzzling, like a jungle maze. The distortion seemed to continue, until Votlyan came to what looked like some sort of shipwreck. He gazed at the ruins aimlessly. It looked as if this vessel had crashed recently. Perhaps this was the same ship that the being he was carrying came from. He would have to investigate himself. He laid the being down on it's back, hoping that he did not irritate the already fatal wound.

Swiping the light blue blood from his armour, Votlyan crept closer to the wreck. There was probably something that could aid the two of them within the ruin.

There was a soft noise that came from near the ship. It wasn't Ahala. It was another being like him. one that was trapped under some rubble, it's arm and half of it's body were out of sight, crushed under the metal. It pointed with its good arm at the creature that was looking through the ruins. The one covered in cerulean blood. Epsilonian blood. Ahala's blood. He made a strangled noise to get its attention.

Votlyan turned his head to what sounded like a choking sound from the being. He made another groaning sound of acknowledgement. There he saw a terrible sight. Another being was stuck from under the ship! He would have to act urgently. With all the strength that he could possible muster from his famished body, Votlyan intended to lift up the ship slightly to free the figure. He gave it his best shot, but the terrible weight of the ship threatened to crush Votlyan's hands. He did not know how long he could last, let alone if he even lifted enough weigh to free whatever awaited him from underneath the ship.

Isaac followed them, crouched down low as he did. If they turned around, they would see stripes of yellow and a white mask, gray orbs where his eyes would be. He had a shovel in his hand now, trying to determine what they were doing.

The creature under the rubble shook its head. The look in it's eyes said that it was hopeless. He knew he was going to die underneath it, even if he was able to get free. He instead pointed to Ahala, Votlyan, and his throat, trying to sign that he could teach him how to speak to Ahala. Then, he growled and tried to beckon him closer. He was running out of time. Ahala was running out of time.

Letting out a loud growl of stress and aggravation, Votlyan turned his head to Ahala, angrily pointing to the suffering creature under rubble. He knew full well that if they didn't act now, this being would die. Time was of the essence.

But as Votlyan stared towards Ahala, he could not help but make out an unwelcome figure in the distance. There was another in this sad state of affairs. The reason why? Well it seemed that they would have to figure out for themselves.

Isaac just stood there in a crouch, watching. The dying alien, the predatory one, and the injured. Isaac stood up, walking towards them. Not quite human, but not quite anything else.

Ahala was pretty out for the count, lying completely unconscious now.

The injured one stared at the new figure that approached. He grabbed for Votlyan's leg, trying to reach him. He stopped and beckoned him closer, trying to get him to come closer. He was desperate now.

Votlyan's concentration was now mixed. Saving the injured creature from being crushed, tending to the wounds of it's kin, as well having to survey this unwelcome stranger approaching all three of them. The stress threatened to drive Votlyan over the edge. If he wasn't hungry, not under primal urges for the taste of sentient flesh, he would've shown a much greater control over himself. But now he was in desparation. In one fell swoop, Votlyan grabbed the creature's hand. Votlyan's grip clenched it as if they were both stuck together by ducktape. In his rage, he attempted to drag the creature out from it's soon-to-be tomb, but Votlyan was reckless. In his state of hunger, he was no longer aware of the complications surrounding his actions. If this creature wanted to live, it would obey!

Up close, this creature was different than Ahala. Its skin was more milky, more white, as was it's hair. Its eyes were pure black, iris, pupil, all of the eye was inky and opaque. It held onto Votlyan just as tightly, though it had a different agenda than getting out.

Votlyan would feel a small prick at the edges of his thoughts, similar to when Ahala grabbed him. Though, this time, the sensation had more of a presence. It made more sense. It had a sentience to it and a purpose. The feeling became a thought and then multiple thoughts. The thought told Votlyan something. To stop. To listen to it. It was looking for the language that Votlyan understood and it studied how he learned it. Then, it started to show him how it learned to speak the language that it knew, using some of the newfound information it uncovered. It was trying to teach Votlyan how to communicate with Ahala in the short time it had left. Eventually, the thoughts weakened down to a presence again. The creature was dying. It knew that. Still, it went on as long as it could. Then, it seemed to almost short circuit and cut out completely. Suddenly. The creature didnt have the strength to keep it up anymore.

That was it! That was the end for it. The hunger was now reaching it's peak. And this intrusion into Votlyan's mind was the breaking point. In the state of hunger that he was in, he struggled to take in what the creature was trying to tell him. The only thing he could now focus on, was the fact that there was a dying body in his hand. The sensations tingled his spine. The voices in his head demanded that for his own survival, that he will eat!

In flash of raw aggression, Votlyan swiped the visor covering his face. Saliva poured down from his dead, pale chin. Letting out a loud growl of anticipation, Votlyan intended to maul the jugular of his prey. Votlyan closed in. If he was not under such primal urges, he would have never considered to take an innocent life, but now there was no difference. He would suffer such guilt after his atrocious act.

The creature didn't fight. It knew that it was going to die anyway, and this was just speeding up the process. From its explorations of Votlyan's mind, it also knew that he needed to do this. It knew that he needed to eat and that he was trying not to. He didn't struggle until the very end, when it was a survival reflex to do so. Even then was it weak and pointless.

As Votlyan devoured the helpless creature before him, his sanity returned to him. He paused for a moment, taking the time to realize what he has just done. First he felt a great tinge of surprise, then as he came to understand the horror he had just committed, his mind entered a state of desolation. He began to breathe heavily, slowly kneeling down in mental agony. While Votlyan was no stranger to feeding off of sentient lifeforms, what truly shivered him was that he had just killed an innocent being.

"I..I am so sorry..."

His supposed whisper sounded like a clear, yet eerie mumble of words. He lay what remained of the creature before him, and contemplated for a moment in silence, of what the future would hold.

From where he was left, Ahala made a few groggy noises. "Bleeding too much.. Close wound.." He was mumbling to himself. He could barely move, only could he reach back and feel the raw edges of his injury.

A jolt of memory returned to Votlyan. He once again became aware of the open wound his unfortunate companion was suffering. He rushed over to his aid. Without any other option, it seemed that the only thing he could do was stop the wound himself. He applied his gauntlets over Ahala's wound.Votlyan's palms were now stained with the light cerulean liquid that covered the rest of his left shoulder... As well as his face...

Ahala touched it and saw, his eyes widening. Stoll, he had no strength to move away from the thing that was holding him. "Please let me go.." He whispered.

"I let go, and I fear you will not see tomorrow. Please trust me." Votlyan did his best to return Ahala's whisper, but his words were clear and sharp. It was obvious that they would have been heard by a third party. He had to keep his hands in place, for the sake of the his newfound companion. "I mean you no harm. Your life is my greatest priority."

Ahala tried to shy away. The cerulean blood covering him was not his own and he knew that. He knew that very well. He trembled under Votlyan's touch between the shoch from blood loss and the pain. "You need to cauterize the wound." He said, giving in to the offer of help, finally. "Or stich it shut." He then realized that he could understand Votlyan and was able to piece together, from there, that the blood on Votlyan's body and face must've been his fallen comrade. Tears began to prick at his eyes, hot, wet, and clear.