Herbalists' Cache dark sky
All Welcome  January 21, 2018, 10:37 AM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
Weather: 15°F, Overcast.

The snow had ceased falling overnight, but heavy clouds lingered overhead. Dune had slept in a soft, quiet forest, finding its cover appealing. The pine trees had shielded him from the gentle—but biting—wind. The yearling rolled to his feet, pushing himself up off the ground and onto all fours. As he always did when he awoke, he shook his coat, sending pine needles and rubbish flying in all directions. A quick sniff of the ground where he'd slept revealed nothing of interest.

With that out of the way, Dune trotted a few paces away and relieved himself against one of the tall pine trees, letting out a satisfied sigh as he did so.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
January 22, 2018, 12:06 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ
*steals* B)

Poet's acquired a second project. A slightly more urgent one, by all accounts. While the small red woman is making progress in healing, the short supply of poppy the sinner'd managed to hold on to had run out and she needs to gather supplies. She doesn't know what she'll be able to find this time of year but anything that could at least ease her pain, stave off infection, is her goal. (And if she keeps an eye out for trinkets to line her altar with too, well. She's past the point of pretending she isn't selfish.)

Poet pauses, wondering if she should change direction as the forest she currently lingers in seems bare, but something about it makes her want to keep looking. She steps across the pine with light paws, suddenly alert, and catches the fresh scent of another nearby. The stranger is easy to find seeing as he's just finished relieving himself, and Poet lets out a bemused chuff, wondering if he'll be of any use to her current task.
January 22, 2018, 12:23 PM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
Dune gave his hips a wiggle to disperse the last of the urine from the tip of his dingus. When he looked up, somebody was watching him. While a human may have been embarrassed at being caught mid-piss, Dune didn't give it a second thought, moving on to the present situation with ease. At least she hadn't attacked him while he'd been doing as much, though he scolded himself internally for not being more aware of his surroundings. She smelled faintly of other wolves, unlike the wolf he had sought food with a couple of days ago. Perhaps she was part of a pack.

Since this stranger had narrowed her sights on him, he looked at her expectantly, assuming she had a reason for approaching him in the first place.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
January 26, 2018, 04:38 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ


She does not bother to avert her eyes, unbothered by the daily facts of life. He is aware of her but does not speak, so the sinner gets straight to the point, voice brisk. "I'm looking for some plants. Have you happened to see any flowers around here? Small and bright red, or round and golden, preferably." It's a long shot. Winter is not the best time to go and get your tail torn off, though she supposes she can't really blame the girl so much as her attacker... though she has not pressed for any more details. 

January 27, 2018, 11:00 AM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
Considering his limited vocabulary and the lack of conversation he'd grown accustomed to as a child, it took him a moment to parse all of what the stranger said. Something about small red plants. The rest of it went in one ear and out the other, unfortunately. Spoken word was essentially a second language for him, and communicating in such a way was difficult for the yearling.

Dune shook his head half in lack of comprehension and half in a negative to her question. He was certain that his look of befuddlement would come across, but he did not worry. To the north, wolves had few plants to deal with, and even fewer wolves there used them for anything other than curing an upset stomach.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
January 29, 2018, 12:57 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ



Her question is met with confused silence and a shake of the head. She sighs. Is he reticent or another like Sif and Venninne, she can't quite tell, but either way she won't be able to use him in her search. 

Well. She can take a break.

"No matter," she tells him, offering a brief smile. "I am Poet. Do you have a name?" She tilts her head slightly with the question, curious if she'll be able to get anything out of him.
January 29, 2018, 01:27 PM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
She spoke more simply this time, and Dune was thankful that there was less of a language barrier now. She offered her name, then asked for his. This was more on his level, and the male replied with much more ease to this question. "Dune," he said. He understood why names were important, seeing as they were easier than using physical descriptors to refer to somebody. Considering he had no reason to hide his identity, he made no attempt to do so.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
February 05, 2018, 02:40 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ


He answers his question, so he isn't mute, at the least. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Dune," Poet says, and draws herself into a sitting position. She has no real reason to linger, especially with her task weighing on her, and yet she finds herself curious. And enjoying the simplicity of lingering conversation just for the sake of curiousity. "Where are you from?" She asks him, small talk, but small talk designed to feel out the limits of his communication ability. Perhaps she can coax something interesting from him with a little effort.
February 05, 2018, 03:16 PM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
She spoke with so many unnecessary words, as many wolves in these parts did, but Dune made no gesture to incite that this was unwelcome. While he did not speak as fluently and as filled with flourish as these wolves did, he would sit through their speech without any thought. Poet asked where he had come from, and he pointed his muzzle to the north. "North," was his one-word reply before he returned his gaze to her.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
February 07, 2018, 01:05 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ


Drawing words forth from him feels like drawing water from stone. Or perhaps that's too harsh an analogy, for she does find a sort of interest in it. Perhaps it is more like willing forth buds to bloom. She tracks the gesture of his snout with a hum. "Where north?" Poet pries, starting to limit her own sentences to better level with the boy.
February 07, 2018, 02:48 PM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
Dune cocked his head to one side at her question. Was there more than one north? That was all he had ever known it as, and it had no other name to him. His brow furrowed, and he answered the question the same as he had before. "North." Perhaps if he'd been a little better at conversation, he could have explained that it was colder, harsher, and lacked the same forests that were here. Unfortunately for Poet, that wasn't the case, so she would have to continue pulling teeth.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
February 12, 2018, 05:05 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ


"North," she repeats, the smile turning her lips taking on an amused, lazy slant. "Alright, Dune from North." The priestess isn't sure she'll be able to glean more from him, but... "I wonder what manner of things are told to you," Poet says thoughtfully, abandoning pretense of trying to communicate with the boy. "Though I suppose I could wonder the same of my other speechless companions. Well. Perhaps... could I tell you a secret?" He probably won't understand the question, she knows, but the formality of the scene matters to her in some small way.
February 13, 2018, 12:38 PM
Dune
Moonspear
Theta
Poet then proceeded to talk to Dune as if he weren't sitting right there. Sure, his spoken word wasn't the most fluent, but he wasn't that much of an idiot. He squinted at her, shook his head, and turned away. Dune did not wish to be blathered to by somebody he had no relationship with. Heck, he didn't really want to be bothered by anybody he did have a relationship with. Besides, he wanted nobody's secrets, and he was just plain bored of this encounter.

Remedy#8618 · amwelles · amwelles
February 14, 2018, 08:47 PM
Poet
Bearclaw Valley
θ


Perhaps he understands more than she realises; either way, it's impossible to misinterpret that particular social cue. "Sorry," she murmurs to his turned back, "if I overstepped." Without much more to contribute, and not feeling the need to say a goodbye, the ex-priestess moves to continue her search, a soft hm under her breath as she noses the earth.