Wolf RPG

she was not far from mereo's gates. fucking mountains. only four hours in, going west -- it's always west.

she set her teeth on edge as the wind whipped through, howling. she would make camp here tonight -- tomorrow, she resumed her uphill climb before panning west to akashingo.

ah, akashingo! may the women be fat with pups, so she might take her pick of them.

settling down on the snow, qiao disposed herself of the greenbriar braid which set around her neck. the deerskin she kept to her side. the wolfskull she orientated to the west -- so it might watch for night travelers. beneath each of her paws, she situated pieces of gaultheria leaves.

closing her eyes, qiao began in a quiet murmur.

ooc; Wow, thank you so much for starting!

Perhaps escaping the coast wasn't as great as he'd first thought. He was happy to be away from the ocean, certainly. He was pretty sure he hated it. Diaval didn't hate many things, at least not actively, but he thought that the sea may be one of them. The noise, the smell, the wind...

Well, speaking of which. That was one of the things that had caused him to question his decision. It had not been balmy on the coast but it had been getting colder the farther East he traveled. Snow dusted the ground and the wind whipped his face and fur, ripping it this way and then that. It was nearly as bad as it had been by the ocean - just as biting, if not worse. He had thought to climb a mountain as a better vantage point for what lay around him but like most decisions he made, it had turned out poorly. 

He was relieved from his misery and his quiet berating of himself when he saw the figure of a wolf, bedded down it seemed. He'd run into no one since he'd set out and the coastal wolves had all been friendly, if a little strange. He thought little of approaching her, his gaze quickly darting to the things around her. The skull gave him a little pause but the pelt and the braid...you could do that with plants?

"That's really cool, how -" he stopped short and closed his mouth with a little click when he realized that she had been mumbling to herself. Had he...interrupted something?

the cold made concentration hard; qiao's lips pursed as a string of words transferred from her tongue into the air in wintry steam.

somewhere nearby footsteps sounded. qiao's eyes opened only when the author of those footsteps spoke: a man of drab greys, beset by a pair of smoldering orange eyes. around him clung the peppery saltness of the sea.

she straightened her posture, fixing the stranger with a flat olive gaze. the herbs remained underfoot while her concentration withered away. how, what?

Diaval frowned inwardly. He had definitely ruined something. He had absolutely no idea of what it could be. There was no prey and no one else around - whatever he had disturbed was something foreign to him. She fixed him with a stare and he shifted self consciously. He thought about simply apologizing and making his leave but...well, he'd already messed up whatever she was doing. He might as well ask, right?

"Uh...h-how did you make that?" he pointed his muzzle at the collar. "And uhm, why?" he paused and after a moment also added - "and what are you doing? With...everything?"

so many questions! qiao shifted the leaves to a single palm, regarding her audience with the studied eye of wolf steeped in patience. it was better to ask, than to live life unknowing --

"hm, i did not make this." qiao gestured to greenbriar with an ample shrug. "i gave a rook something he wished for dearly, and he braided it together. clever thing." she straightened, pulling the gaultheria to the deerskin pouch it had previously been stored within. "they can do great things with those sharp beaks. i use it to store my herbs." as for what she was doing... qiao kept such an answer to herself -- for she had learned long ago not to flounce her beliefs in the presence of strangers.

She did not reproach him and that, combined with her fascinating words, drove the anxiety from his mind. A Rook? A bird? "Really?" he whispered, looking at the ring with a new sense of wonder. He watched as she put it away, knowing better than to touch it or to even voice such a rude request. The deerskin was quite interesting, as well, but it paled when compared to the garland and the...herbs?

"Herbs?" he asked, looking at the leaves. His mother had used some grass or something once, he remembered. It was a vague, dark memory - likely from when he was very young. He thought, maybe, that it had been for his sister. "What to do you with those...? Do you...eat them?" Diaval was no medic and hadn't ever been treated by one, either. A plant was a plant to him and it was either a leaf or grass. She stored them and it must have been for a reason. Surely she wasn't feeding on them?

really. qiao indulged the stranger's curiosity with a vague smile. it was best he not touch the contents of her greenbriar: other wolves had tried.

and other wolves walked no longer.

this one seemed wholly uneducated when it came to her trade. qiao preferred it that way. it made them trusting and complicit. easy to manipulate. you can do many things with herbs. eat, drink, steep, or sluice. some stave off infection, others help you sleep. and some make you sleep forever.

ooc; Sorry, school was vicious. I'm back in it, now. Also this is totally Diaval's villain origin thread.

He listened with intent, the last bit confusing him for a second in its poeticism. "Oh, they kill you." he confirmed aloud, not speaking to her. The thought didn't frighten him, it only drove him to more curiosity. Wolves died from sickness and injury - drowning and fire. He knew these things, though he had experienced very few. A plant killing an entire adult wolf? Removing someone from existence because of a little leaf or blade of grass? It seemed impossible.

"How...would they do that?" he asked vaguely and then paused to collect his thoughts. She had told him a lot in one small sentence. Steep. Sluice. He didn't know these words. He understood the ideas she presented but they why eluded him. "How...do you make them do that?" Was that a better question? He wasn't sure.

qiao's jade gaze danced as she saw recognition dawn on the male's face.

ah, so he was naive -- maybe not in the insulting sense, but in the sense there were many things in the world he was yet unaware of. time, experience, and life would shave this youthful innocence from him.

it depends on which plant you plan to use. there are plants that kill you if you eat them raw, but lose their potency if allowed to dry. there are others that get more wicked the longer they cure.

some plants bring out properties in others and are best as a cocktail. some are toxic in the leaves, but bear sweetness in their stem or fruit. she leaned forward, eyes alight. you seem remarkably interested. someone you want to kill?

There was so much to what she said. Every time the stranger opened her mouth, she broadened Diaval's view of the world. Some plants were to be eaten raw - some dried, some mixed. There were so many ways, apparently, to die from such a little thing. He'd been living comfortably around plant matter his whole life, never realizing the abilities they possessed. Why had no one ever told him? Did others not know, as he hadn't before this moment? He had so many questions but he was pulled up short at her own.

His eyes shifted slowly from wide, dark and curious to alarm and shock.

Kill someone?! "N-no, of course not! Never!" he sputtered, the hair along his spine rising in his distress. He would never kill anyone! The idea was repulsive to him, he turned away from it with his whole being. But that was the result of what they were discussing, right? These toxic plants killed people. That was what made them so interesting...so special. He was drawn to them, he couldn't deny it to himself even if he wouldn't speak it out loud. Did that mean he wanted to kill someone? Of course not. And he never would - ever. But knowing about them wouldn't hurt anyone. In fact, the more he knew, the less likely someone was to get hurt. He could protect people from them, if he understood them.  

With this thought in mind, he regained some composure, and the curiosity that never really left reared its head. "Have you killed someone? With the plants?"

the man recoiled as if he had been slapped; in a way, perhaps he had. qiao smiled indulgently to herself.

it is remarkably easy to kill with plants if you do not understand their power. she revealed with a spectacularly indirect answer. so it is best to learn from a seasoned herbalist and -- here her eyes danced with hidden mischief: never get on her bad side.

but qiao had lived long enough to know every scruple could be bought; every moral fiber conveniently traded. diaval might learn that in his life, or he might not -- but whatever course fate had in store for him, he would certainly meet strangers on the road who knew this law in their heart.

She didn't answer his question but Diaval didn't really notice. She said it was easy to mess up and when he thought about how many plants there were in the world, he could see how that was true. What really caught his attention, however, were her next words. A good mentor?

"Would you mentor me?!" he asked, the words pouring from his mouth before she'd hardly finished her own. His eyes were alight with excitement - bright, intelligent, intensely curious. He would be an apt student, he just knew he would. He wanted to know everything there was about plants - every single bit - and their toxicity, as well. He practically buzzed with hope, feeling almost light-headed on his feet.

surprised by diaval's sudden question, qiao rocked to her haunches and considered her answer.

on the one hand, she needed connections in this world. the teekons had yet to feel her influence, and no despot or seditionist ever conquered alone. he could be useful. he could be used.

but he was male -- and qiao's interest in men was chiefly for their blood, not their brains. what can you offer me? the herbalist returned, her quiet words carrying a silky power to them.

ooc; Feel free to go either way with teaching him! I have a backup idea if she refuses him so don't worry about me!

Diaval looked at her with imploring eyes, a hint of desperation in them. Suddenly, all he wanted was to learn - to be taught. He could attain knowledge, he could be something - he could learn and have a place in this world. It was possible. He was a wandering nothing and he knew it but somehow he had found a chance to be something more. 

What could he offer?

That was quite the question and Diaval frowned and dropped his eyes as he thought about it. In truth, he had never felt useful. Quite the opposite, actually. Did he have anything to offer that she couldn't find in someone - anyone - else? He was silent for several moments. He was no salesman, particularly when the product was himself, but for once he had to try.

"I'm smart." he started lamely but, after a millisecond of thought, decided it was true "I'll learn fast. I'm honest - you'll never have to doubt me. I'll be obedient. Whatever you need - I'll do it." he raised his gaze to meet hers. "I'll be whatever you want."

In his youth and inexperience, he didn't realize just how much he offered away to this woman whom he did not know. If he was unlucky, he would find out.

intelligence, quick wit, honesty; these were the things diaval laid plainly on the table.

they were things of very little use to qiao.

she blinked over her long muzzle, green eyes contemplative. you are not ready to be a woman's thrall. she dismissed, bundling her herbs and preparing her exit. a quick look at the moon, which hung translucent in the daytime sky: come to akashingo when the season has turned to fall, and perhaps then you could be of use to me.

His face - his entire soul - fell.

She wouldn't take him. He didn't blame her - he wouldn't have taken himself. The self-hatred did not lessen the blow. He shrank, his head drooping, ears folding and shoulders sagging. "Oh." he said lamely and watched as she gathered her things.

He perked a bit at her parting words, his amber eyes shifting from misery to intrigue. Akashingo? That must have been a pack. It was, at least, a place. "In the Fall. Okay." he answered, puzzlement lacing his voice, and watched her. He would turn away when she was out of sight. He wouldn't follow her - would not dare - but he would want to.

The journey to nowhere would continue.

if qiao could take that emotion and seize it! crush it between the palms of her hands until it seeped like pulped fruit; reserve it, draw it from tap in moments where its perfect clarity could be steeped and pumped and smoked and inhaled -- well

it was better she had yet discovered such power.

diaval was not the first man to feel the burn of qiao's rejection. she spared him no further glance as she stole neatly down the trail.

if he came in the fall, she would be surprised -- even bemused.

that was, if the man ever came at all.