As Katniss mentions that he should add his own touches, Metaphor smiles and draws some wildflowers from his bag, fixing them into a vessel on the hearth before turning to plait a sunny yellow daisy into her mane. He steps back with a smile, gentle as ever and kindly as he looks around the space approvingly, making a mental note to bring more of his plants in. In a way, you could take the boy out of the forest, but it was harder to take the forest from his soul. As Metaphor had grown older, discovered his penchant for earth magic, and grown in his healing abilities, he had only grown a stronger affinity to nature.
The bird’s quiet breathing draws his attention once more, and he makes quiet eye contact before bowing his head in a submissive gesture so as not to frighten him. Reaching again into his satchel, Metaphor withdrew an ivory hued salve and applied it gingerly to the raw places on Finnick’s leg. He follows the salve with a gauzy sort of bandage, made from plant husk, binding it tightly to stave the infection but not so tight that air cannot get to the wound. There… that should help, but should it continue to bother you, we can try a stronger antiseptic.
He turns back to Katniss then, relaxing into their routine and nodding as she mentions those she has met in these lands. I should like to meet them all, and to offer my services as well. Do you know if there are other healers? Perhaps you would be willing to make an introduction? That was Metaphor, always down to business and ready to jump in with both feet. The red stallion liked to be useful, and he would add his talent where he could, building a home for himself in this new land.
And the courts… I’m not sure that I follow, entirely. There are four? He settles in for a story of her own, eager to learn about Novus and its lore, so he could serve the kingdom with a bit more knowledge, unsure of where exactly he should start.
