Ifa's Guide To Saurians: 

hear me out. halovian ifa.

Ifa has had a few patients who fear sitting on his examination table or fear his needles. He's cared for pediatric cases before, but this ... he blinks at the grown man with verdant eyes, taken back by his visceral reaction to Ifa drawing close for an examination.

Is this not a martial arts tournament? How can someone compete in a festival for violence and test of skill yet are afraid of treating physicians?

❝ Uh … ❞ Ifa sounds unsure.  ❝ Would you like me to ? ❞

Ifa has no issue with counting down if that calms his patient. He rather insure the man is not facing a dire situation and needs more than simple topical cure for his gash. It doesn't matter the age or career of the patient. What matter is Ifa is taking care of them to the best of his ability. If he has to count, he'll count. 

The cowboy's gloved hands take hold of the man's forearm again and he examines the gash, counting down out loud, and finding no discoloration to the skin aside for the abrasion. Ifa imagines a weapon with some kind of toxin to continue its sting and slow the inflicted is the likely cause, but nothing life threatening or incurable. 

❝ No, all honored guests of the Xianzhou are cared for under Xianzhou hospitality and I'm paid by the commission to treat so ... no worries there, dude. ❞

Ifa prepared a tray to clean the wound and dress it ahead of time and he begins his wound care, looking up to the man with green eyes and explaining to him what he's doing currently, if that helps him to settle down as well. It doesn't take long and Ifa smiles when he finishes.

❝ There, all done. You did great. ❞ Ifa returns the tray to a countertop and brings back a small plate of freshly baked cookies. This was suppose to be his lunch with coffee, but he doesn't mind sharing.

❝  I don't have any lollipops, but I made these this morning. New recipe I'm trying too, so let me know how it taste. ❞

@ifadoc :  ❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜       an assortment of dialogue prompts.

     With  some  force,  he  yanks  his  arm  out  of  the  healer's  grasp,  whining  for  what  is  flimsy  reasoning.   ❝  Whoa,  whoa,  whoa,  Doc  !   Aren't  you  supposed  to  promise  me  like  a  lollipop  or  something  then  count  down  ?   Tell  me  it's  aaaallll  gonna  be  fine  ?   ❞    Sampo  has  never  been  afraid  of  needles,  has  even  found  some  pleasure  in  points  much  sharper,  but  given  this  new  face,  he  can't  help  but  mess  around  a  little   (  even  if  it  paints  him  in  a  rather  childish  light.  )

     It  detracts  from  the  clamor  the  Fool  had  been  pulled  out  of.  Details  under  wraps  but  based  on  the  sequence  of  events   &&   his  own  stake  in  the  game,  Sampo  can  surmise  that  this  is  mostly  related  to  the  Elation's  covert  presence  upon  the  ship.  Those  that  didn't  take  to  kindly  to  his  existence  had  inflicted  not  just  a  gash  in  skin  but  some  sort  of  sting.  A  poison  or  something  like  that,  though  he's  sure  it  wouldn't  actually  kill  him  even  if  he  hadn't  been  sat  down  by  Ifa.  However,  it  would've  looked  a  lot  more  suspicious  had  he  refused  treatment.

     After  a  drawn  out  sigh,  he  offers  his  arm  back,  nodding  towards  the  syringe.   ❝  How  much  is  this  going  cost  me  ?   ❞   

do you ever think about how cacucu was an outlier among qucusaurus for his different appearance and was shunned, bullied, and pecked at, and do you think about also how ororon is 'the weirdo' of the masters of the night wind clan, shunned and abandoned, used in some ritual that didn't work and abandoned again like ... these are Ifa's friends, his bros, the shunned weirdos i just-

"Nothing's ever made me regret my choice. Animals are a lot like kids... They're the future, and I'll always protect them."

Sesame, who transcends time and space, is here to viciously and vigorously slap this new person into the depths of oblivion

❝ Woaaaaah there, lil guy. What's wrong? Hey now, it's alright. No need to throw those paws 'round here. ❞ 

The vet remains standing still, a hand on his hip, and he watches the feline swipe at him with ferocity and agitation. Ifa blinks his teal eyes, feeling no need to scold, correct, or stop the cat. He allows Sesame to get it out of his system before taking a knee and meeting Sesame on the same level. 

❝ Hmmm, I see. Gotta show ‘em you ain’t one to mess with, huh? Always gotta fend for yourself. That's alright. Here, I'm no bad guy, alright? ❞ Ifa offers a feline puree stick to Sesame. Cats love to lick those. 

›        FIRST   TOUCH   PROMPTS       →     receiver   to   sender   (pt.   2)    …   espionage   /   spy   /   romance   inspired.

brushing     hair     behind     their     ear

hands     grazing     while     reaching     for     the     same     object

catching     them     by     the     waist

sliding   a   hand   over   their   holster   while   checking   for   weapons

tending   to   a   gunshot   wound   in   silence

brushing   fingers   over   their   pulse   to   check   they’re   alive

pinning   them   against   the   wall   to   keep   quiet

wiping   blood   or   sweat   from   their   brow

gripping   their   hand   tight   during   an   interrogation

pulling   them   behind   cover   with   a   firm   grasp

lifting   their   chin   to   check   for   signs   of   life

steadying   them   after   a   sudden   explosion   or   attack

wrapping   a   scarf   or   cloth   around   their   neck   for   disguise

touching   their   lips   to   silence   them

brushing   past   them   in   disguise,   pretending   not   to   know   them

adjusting   their   cufflink   or   watch   mid-mission

helping   them   out   of   a   tactical   vest

gripping   their   wrist   before   they   walk   into   danger

holding   their   face   after   a   close   call

brushing   dirt   or   ash   from   their   cheek   gently

sneaking   a   hand   under   the   table   to   reassure

linking   arms   to   pass   as   a   couple

tracing   a   fresh   scar   with   careful   fingers

pulling   them   close   while   hiding   in   shadows

fixing   their   earpiece,   lips   inches   apart

pushing   hair   away   to   whisper   a   secret

pressing   a   hand   to   their   chest   to   feel   their   heartbeat

zipping   up   their   suit   slowly,   lingering   at   the   collar

wiping   a   cut   on   their   cheek   with   a   thumb

lacing   fingers   together   before   parting   ways

touching   their   face   to   make   sure   they’re   real

grabbing   the   back   of   their   shirt   to   stop   them

brushing   a   hidden   note   into   their   hand

tapping   their   knee   under   the   table   for   reassurance

laying   a   head   on   their   shoulder   after   a   long   mission

cupping   their   jaw   while   patching   them   up

gripping   their   coat   lapel   to   make   a   point

letting   their   fingers   linger   after   handing   over   intel

holding   their   gaze   while   adjusting   their   glasses

brushing   off   shards   of   glass   from   their   back

wrapping   arms   around   them   after   a   near-death   moment

trailing   fingers   down   their   spine   to   check   for   wounds

sliding   their   hand   over   theirs   in   a   tense   car   ride

resting   a   hand   on   their   thigh   mid-interrogation

pulling   a   splinter   or   wire   from   their   skin

grazing   their   fingers   while   sharing   a   burner   phone

tilting   their   chin   up   with   two   fingers   to   meet   their   eyes

tugging   gently   on   their   jacket   to   stop   them   from   leaving

laying   a   hand   over   their   heart   after   a   confession

smoothing   their   collar   after   a   close   encounter

letting   their   fingers   linger   on   a   fresh   bruise

catching   their   wrist   as   they   reach   for   their   gun

leaning   forehead   to   forehead   behind   enemy   lines

pressing   a   palm   to   their   back   before   a   mission

brushing   off   flecks   of   blood   after   a   takedown

squeezing   their   hand   before   going   separate   ways

resting   a   palm   on   their   chest   during   a   rare   moment   of   quiet

helping   them   out   of   a   disguise,   brushing   hands   often

letting   their   hand   hover   before   finally   touching

Sesame is proceeding to make biscuits on his leggy, purring softly as he claims his new spot even if he's ruining his pants.

❝ Sure, little dude. Get all comfy. ❞ Ifa chuckles as Sesame joins him.

He's in the middle of tuning his guitar and Ifa plays a a few chords, smiling at Sesame as the cat continues making biscuits on his leg. The weather is nice and warm, the breeze gentle and cool. The perfect spot for a little jam session in the shade of a tree. 

❝ ~ ♫ ❞ 

i had the biggest crash out about ifaron in the gc does anybody need a laugh lmfao like peak delusional asdfgkih

@ccaptain sent: ❛ whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is no. ❜ / particularly if it addresses the little iktomisaurus coming off his head. its a very adorable coo-ing hat

Ifa has a few infant saurians in his clinic today, all of which are requiring their milestone vaccinations. He's encouraged the young dragonkin to stay together using saurian crackers he's baked early this morning, but just as the vet readies his tray of syringes, he's counted one baby dragon short of the bunch.

Ifa swivels his head 180, searching for the small Iktomisaurus. How could it slip from the group? Those baby bat saurians are the most timid and well-behaved of the saurians. Then Ifa notices the visitor from Mondstadt and his new hat. 

❝ C'mon, dude. Quit foolin' 'round the babies and lead me a hand, willya? ❞ 

The Tlalocan holds out a cracker and the tiny Iktomisaurus coos with interest.