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wolfie
Oleander's body tensed at the other's comment, despite their tones levity. He wasn't ready to bolt, though. Plenty of cats he met outside the clans would name themselves Undertaker McMurder or something like that and go around telling people they were the avatar of entropy because they were insecure and wanted to scare off potential attackers.
Their questions were perhaps invasive, but Oleander assumed it was part of the whole image. Still, he knew better than to trust someone immediately. He'd learned.
"Erm, none than I could think of? Unless you consider getting too many treats from passing twolegs even when you're not hungry a sin. And if you're asking about religious faith, I suppose it's not something I deny nor get heavily involved in." he said, smiling awkwardly. He didn't have any sins, though sometimes he felt he did. Like running away. Like not being able to save someone else from his sins. But sometimes you can't stay and be true to yourself. Leaving didn't make you a bad person if you still helped how you could. Or if you weren't needed. Most of the sins Oleander could think of were his older brother's. And he'd learned to stop carrying those. At least he tried.
The stranger quickly denied any malice, passing it off as a joke. And yet, that's when Oleander truly grew uneasy. He recognised a fake smile when he saw it. It was always the eyes. They could never quite pull off the eyes. They were either not crinkled enough, or they were hyperfocused on one facial feature instead of the whole face. He recognised fake compliments and platitudes and flattery to get someone to do what you wanted. And that flowery speech and sickly sweet words. He'd seen it through all of his early life. And not just from the one cat you'd think of.
As much as Oleander wanted to leave, or even let his frustration out and tell this cat he knew what was going on, he knew he was being lied to, he knew what you did, he- where was I? Oh, yes. Oleander decided not to. He felt he needed to help others, even if they thought they were using him. He knew how to place boundaries and would let this cat run him ragged with requests. At least that's what he told himself he would do. Besides, healing this stranger surely couldn't hurt unless their idea of gratitude was murder. And it was never too late for someone to change. Even if Oleander realized now that he wasn't responsible for changing people.
"Hmm, let's see. It's either too cold for marigold or it doesn't grow around here. But I'm sure I can dig up some burdock root. It's bound to at least soothe the sores. And I'm Oleander. Feel free to provide me with your name unless you'd like to keep up the whole spooky image." he said, pulling up roots from the dirt a few fox lengths away. He walked over to the stream and began washing them up.