[AW] The journey begins...

[Yana]

Speaks | Thoughts @Pan @Florentine The midnight maiden grumbles as she tends to a patch of yarrow, " ‘You must rejoice during summer!’ they said… ‘Fewer ill, and plant life flourishes!’ they said…” A dark hoof burrows into the ground to form a small trench. “Imbeciles. My swamp dies in the heat.” Though her words are wise they do not reflect the whole truth: the mossy floor still holds moisture from the last spring rain, and though the yarrow has begun to wilt it is in not in any danger yet. The young Champion is paranoid, and rightfully so; she lacks the stock to treat major wounds, and drought season is fast approaching. That’s ignoring the fact that I’m limited to a scarce selection of medicines. I’ve enough cattail leaves and turmeric to treat an army of wounded, but not much regarding antidotes for poison or chronic pain. She connects her crude aqueduct to a wide pool surrounded by willow trees. Finnian’s lucky that I even had enough to treat him. If he has any internal trauma, though... A cough catches in her throat at the thought, and she sputters for air whilst it works its way out. He needs something to ease the pain. I’ll have to ask around, make the other caretakers do some work around here. Maybe Florentine knows where I can find something to remedy that. As if on cue, the starry girl’s name drifts through the hairlike tendrils of the trees to steal her from her duty as gardner of the bog. Perhaps another may have balked at the melody of their name amidst heavy fog and treacherous green pools, but not the hag who calls this land home. An annoyed snort drifts from her nostrils instead. I count the days until I am able to enchant that black pillar. The obelisk may not yet serve to ward off intruders or greet my guests, but some day I’ll put it to good use. For now the little witch must do her own bidding, and she abandons the cluster of yellow plants with a flick of her tail. She does not have to travel far before she is met by the young Emissary and her companion. Her eyes reflect the same greys in the ashen trunks as she scans them both for injury. As she always is in the presence of the radiant flower girl, the witch becomes acutely aware of the muck and grime maring her own coat. Not that she would have washed herself prior to Florentine’s arrival if she had known she was coming. Milk and honey will always taste better than tar, no matter how you prepare it. “You may want to consider the time of day before you begin asking for favours. Fortunately, I have no plans to retire early this eve.” As much as the hag wants to berate the girl for her inconsideration she is careful to hold her tongue; Florentine is not the only one capable of making requests. Dark eyes stray from the girl’s twin amethysts to address the colt, “We haven’t met. Not that that says much: I prefer the solitude of the swamp over the bustle of the temple. Most come find me here if they need me. ...I never find them...” Her last sentence trickles out slowly like a shallow stream when she notices the scaling on his body. It isn’t the first time she has seen someone with this affliction, and panic shoots through the caretaker from white crown to tail. Is there some sort of epidemic I don’t know about? She glances at the slender girl who has brought him here, wondering if the favour she has in mind is to treat the sickly boy. “I’ve something I need to ask of you as well, but let’s sort out your business first.” The stars are blind my love, you will learn to crawl under oceans above

Headshot by Empluvie | Code by Clarity