#m * alejandro estaris.

[slivertm]

CLOSED ; for @sparkledcrowns’ DAMON.

“you know, i think this is the business where i’d prefer not to have repeat clients,” alejandro says, already digging through his supplies to find a salve. familiar with the older fae, damon was prone to a number of injuries for his occupation that alejandro was smart enough not to ask any questions about. it was probably what kept him coming back in the first place. it’s not like he’d get real answers. “i’m not the most well-equipped to assist you here, unfortunately. but i’ve got just the thing to treat you still.”

[slivertm]

CLOSED ; for @ofsvnshine's DAEHO

there was no fight or flight when it came to their kind. it was win or lose and flight meant losing. it was second nature for alejandro to steel up in the presence of the enemy, ready to face them head on if it came to that. it shouldn't, though. considering the illyrian commander before him had been the hero that saved him from bleeding to death, trapped upside down in the tangled branches of an elder tree. they hope that the stiffness to their movement is read as an awestruck fear of the general.

"general im." alejandro grunts quickly, dragging his boots together in deference as he brings a fist to his chest. the first he'd saluted this way since he'd left their warband.

[slivertm]

CLOSED ; for @illuminatingeclipse's TIERNAN

alejandro wasn't the type to lose his head. nothing phased him. not nudity, not blood, not even the sight of bone — hence why healing was the perfect career. he'd seen the gore of the battlefield and pushed forward. they sometimes felt a little nervous handling royal ichor, but there was barely even a trace of a tremor in his palms as he passes over a satchel of herbs to the spring prince.

"you said your friend was experiencing extreme fatigue? this should help some. it's a fairly common remedy in the capital."

[slivertm]

CLOSED ; for @shvdwscng's MUSES

alejandro often felt blessed to be able to work in the capital's palace. swiftly after his arrival, he found placement under a master healer with tenure in the castle, allowing him a fast-track into becoming a preferred healer in the city. but, as they work towards another day in dusk court captivity, the mother should excuse the lack of gratitude in this situation. all the time in the world, but he couldn't even properly test the improvements to his tonics and salves in a way that felt helpful for his patience.

"forgive the disarray of my studio," they say with a dry chuckle. the studio in question is comprised of several piles of dry herbs on a blanket in the grass. "and the smell, perhaps?"

[slivertm]

CLOSED ; for @ethercvl’s SOOBIN.

it felt like a summer fae was crawling into his mind and creating illusions of the past. what could he have possibility done to warrant this karmic retribution? in the market. around the bonfire. agents of the night court were everywhere — living spectres of a past he’d long left behind him. he’d done well enough avoiding them in the nooks and crannies of gaea, but now, he too was a visitor and had no where to run.

“am i walking in a dream, or is that really you, soobin?”

evidently, some ghosts were more welcome than others.

[slivertm]

ALEJANDRO ESTARIS ; HEALER of GAEA.

‘ evan mock, cis male, he/they, 29 / 290, illyrian ’ ― cauldron save you. it seems alejandro estaris has been teleported to the dusk court, the healer from gaea is said to be laissez faire and is said to describe themselves with the strong beat of wings in the distance, a fleeting memory of when you once touched the clouds, forced back into reality by the sound of ripping medical tape and with all of this in mind their sensitive nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time. 

full name: alejandro estaris name meaning: defender of mankind age: two hundred and ninety place of birth: the night court gender: cismale pronouns: he/they sexual & romantic orientation: bisexual occupation: healer personality traits: laissez-faire, sensitive abilities: winnowing, bargaining, flight

mother: unknown father: unknown siblings: unknown

height: 6’2” body and build: toned but not as fit as he had been before fae: large black wings, the left is scarred — he rarely unfurls them hair color and style: buzz cut complexion: naturally caramel eye colour: black clothing style: blacks, leather pieces every so often signature scent: spearmint and witch hazel

your introduction to gravity goes like this: an ashen arrow pierces the hard leather of your wing, plummeting you into an ancient oak.

the one who found you says that the tree did more damage than the injury, but when you look at the scars etched into your wings, you wonder if their blade was named for the woods.

you’ve tried to fly again. mother knows you tried. but you didn’t heal fast enough to prove your worth to your camp. you could hardly get a couple feet off the ground before the strain took its toll on your body. in fact, they told you that you would never be healed enough to join the aerial cavalry again.

it’s an embarrassment (you’re an embarrassment).

and, it’s not as if you enjoyed the camp. no one takes joy in an illyrian war camp. but it’s home. it’s where you were raised. it was your life. what do you do if not fight?

you tell this to your friends, one a painter. they commit the moment to canvas. this is a mistake, you learn. an intimate moment, shared in the confidence with a dear friend now hangs in the court of nightmares — the moment your life ended hung in the gallery of some wealthy noble. that small, unintentional betrayal was too much. the most vulnerable moment of your miserable life… exploited.

you can no longer look at your friend without feeling angry. you cannot stay in the war camp lest you go green with envy. you have no interest in staying idle, so you leave.

you did not expect to be face to face with your past so quickly again.

[slivertm]

he laughs in return. right. “sure, boss. thats why.” he’d seen worse during his time in the army. the salve was a handful of herbs that were native to the night court, but thankfully gaea had a decent substitute for the bulk of the potion. “if i could get a decent clipping of mercy weed from back home, i could get rid of the smell.” alejandro was sentimental at heart — the night court would always be home. even if he could never return. self-imposed or not. for now, the ointment was stuck with the sharp tang of spearmint and a lingering smell of aged eggs. not ideal, but very effective. he’d have to look around the dusk court’s facilities. maybe he might find some useful herbs. “i’d generally recommend avoiding rooftops for the time being.” he gives a disapproving tut. “gnarly bruise. did you fall on it? we need to be more careful. haven’t figured out how to reattach limbs yet.”

☆ﾟ*·ﾟAWKWARDLY SCRATCHING HIS head, damon scrunched up his nose. he was notorious for find all sorts of bruises, scrapes, and broken bones when he hadn't even realized it. the thing was, at his age now, scaling up the sides of buildings wasn't always the easiest. he'd whack his leg on something or wake up with a cut or bruise he hadn't even felt. but today, he'd twisted his wrist, something he actually needed on a daily basis. and alejandor's salve, it always worked. it felt warm against any bruise or sprain that damon wouldn't go to anyone else. "but you know i'm your favorite," he stated, chuckling. if he couldn't joke around with the healers, damon didn't think he could visit them at all. "that salve always works, man, and you know it. it's why i keep coming back to you," damon explained, sitting down, sighing softly. "i think i actually hurt it bad this time though. might need to lay off the roof jumping unfortunately."