The Western Monarch was all but ignorant of the comfort his very presence seemed to bring the wounded seal. That compassion was altogether rare from the Were-King, tucked behind the facade of chilling apathy he so often presented the world at large. It had become a habit of sorts, to simply look upon the suffering of others with indifference, making those few tender moments when that veneer so slipped to reveal the sweetness buried deep within the heart of the man. How well he understood what the aquatic creature must have been enduring - how many times had he too stumbled through that dance club that had once been his home, barely clinging to life? How many times had he too been sprawled upon the floor, his body laced with too much venom to detect hallucination from reality? Much less the number of times his own body would have so welcomed the very embrace of death! In this, Tetradore was uniquely qualified to understand all that he was asking of her as he so gently attempted to coax that shift from her. It was, sadly, a necessary evil. That aid she required was near impossible to provide her in this form, even as Tetradore shoved his own shirt firmly against her bleeding side in an effort to staunch that flow.

That soft huff from her lips caused his eyebrows to furrow ever so slightly and yet, it was that twitch of her smooth skin that prompted some knowledge of what was occurring beneath his hands. Tetradore removed his own shirt from her side, stepping back slightly as that transformation began to overcome her. That grey blubber was quickly replaced with porcelain skin, her figure became all the more petite and yet, Tetradore was struck with the startling revelation that he knew the naked woman that sat before him - vulnerable and bare for his emerald eyes to rove over. His eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly as his gaze refocused upon her fair features, buried in her hands though they were. Her name was altogether soft upon his lips, the very sound of those syllables seemed to coax some cognizance back to her thoughts. Her hazel eyes slowly rose towards him, the girl merely blinking at him before her irises slowly turned down towards her own pale flesh. That very observation she took of her own skin, however, seemed to prompt some sort of awareness within her at her present state of undress. That heat all but blossomed across her cheeks, bringing a lovely shade of red to her skin as she so abruptly attempted to cover her far more intimate areas, not that it truly mattered what with all he had already seen.

As it was, Tetradore made no effort to point that out, his gaze only slightly averting out of politeness as the Were-King cleared his throat. He was hardly oblivious, however, to the way her very actions prompted such pain upon her slender figure, her whole body seeming to wince in retaliation as those tears blossomed upon her waterline. Tetradore was altogether gentle as the man reached forward, his thumb brushing across her cheek in an effort to brush away those tears. He was well aware of the way she seemed to lean into his touch and yet, those words upon her lips were never truly formed before she began to fall forward. The Were-King was altogether quick upon his feet, catching her slender frame as she collided into his chest. His own movements were nothing short of confident as he lifted her slender frame into his arms, cradling her exhausted, cold frame against his far warmer one. He was all too aware of the way her body seemed to shiver, that lack of blood surely beginning to affect her and yet, he still hadn't quite stopped the flow. The shift, after all, had only served to aggravate those wounds but now, he had the means to tend to them properly. He strode purposefully into the Ark, demanding a list of medical supplies from the man that had long ago become his left hand, of sorts. Jackal was quick to rush towards the medical room while Tetradore easily took the stairs back towards the comfort of his own room.

Gingerly, Tetradore laid her upon his own bed, his shirt placed back against her slender frame in his continued effort to momentarily decrease that blood flow till Jackal arrived. His gaze shifted back towards that hallway he'd only just come from in an effort to see if Jackal had gathered those few requested items when the soft touch of a hand upon his own so pulled at his attention. His emerald irises fluttered back towards her as his gaze met the soft hazel hue of Arya's own. That apology was met with a small shake of his head, the man hardly concerned for....well any fashion she might be putting him out, not that he viewed her as doing so in the first place. "Don't worry about it." He commented with a small shrug, only for his attention to deviate at the sound of footsteps. It was that small jar of salve that Tetradore reached for as several bandages and cloths were deposited upon his bed. "We have a witch who makes medicine for us for the fights. This will stop the blood flow until your body's natural healing starts again...but you have to take it easy for a while okay? You can still reopen the wound." He commented, glancing down at her as he unscrewed the jar. His fingers were dipped into the transparent green substance. "Oh....and this might sting a little," Tetradore informed her quite at the last moment, that crumpled, stained t-shirt pulled from her form as his fingers were shoved into that very wound with striking effectiveness, spreading that salve both inside her cut and along the outside of it. His fingers once more dipped into the jar before he reached for that injured hand, quite near repeating the process. That very magic was nothing short of potent, that blood flow ceasing, near automatically, keeping that major fear at bay. His head bobbed ever so slightly in satisfaction before the Alpha wiped his fingers upon that now dirty shirt before reaching for the cotton bandages, content to settle his attention upon their application.