Yana
Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead
”Alright.”Yana narrows her eyes briefly, wondering if the Commander is being genuine or not. In her (albeit limited) experience, people only give you what you want if they expect something in return. The starry girl comes from a family of distrustful, bartering hags herself; the only times her mother ever gave out information was when coin or some other sort of favor was involved – and, despite being the only child that Runann kept, Yana was never exempt from such conditions (though she gave out punishments for free).
It has become second nature for the girl to be suspicious of gifts, and the Commander’s query doesn’t help alleviate that. She fumbles with her hair, diverting all her attention into untangling it even though she knows her efforts are futile. Marisol’s stare is like an arrow piercing through her; Yana is worried that if the Commander looks at her for too long, she will spill out her secrets and drown the books scattered across the floor. But does she truly have anything to hide from her Sovereign?
No, she thinks, continuing to tug at her hair. You are just doing what you were taught. The image of prey hung from trees, their beaks and mouths dripping liquid like gruesome fountains, flashes across her mind. If you do not perform these experiments, then who will?
Her words are carefully devoid of emotion when at last she speaks, “I do not just heal, Marisol-“ She swallows back a cough, forcing it back down to the hollow pits of her chest. There should no longer be a heart beating there, not after what she has done.
“I am an apothecary. My mother taught me, but she only knew so much.” Yana’s lips press together to hide her sneer. Runann had been a brilliant witch of her time, but her arrogance could only take her so far. Some might even say it had been her downfall.
“I’m not convinced that she uncovered every secret of the trade. The only way I know how to find out is through research… and experimentation.”
The witch’s eyes peer at the Commander through a tangle of sticks and hair. The glance lasts just a moment, but it’s long enough for her to notice the intensity of the mare’s steady gaze. She's not sure what she had hoped to find there; understanding, perhaps, but there is certainly no comfort to be had in the tough woman's stare. She finds Marisol's extreme focus disturbing, and tries to distract herself by dusting off a particularly old book with her nose.
Yana struggles with an awkward bout of coughing before she continues with a croaky tone, “Not on equines of course… I collect herbs and trap creatures. Sometimes I find a truly exquisite specimen, one I’ve never even heard of before, and it would be such a shame to let an opportunity to learn go to waste, so I just take what I can from them and record my findings…”
