Sleeping Dragon spooks come out for a swinging wake

Portia nodded. "Just about," she replied, tail flicking. She watched the child, just making sure she didn't have any allergic reactions or anything. So far so good, so she continued speaking-- because anyone who knew Portia knew how much she loved to talk. "Actually, I was probably a bit younger than you," she said thoughtfully, squinting and staring at the wall of the space as if she was trying to see something that wasn't there. "My mother had the flu, and she was the best darn medic I'd ever seen. So she told me to go get some herbs for her... told me what they looked like, how to mash 'em up for her... and, oh child, I don't think I'll ever forget how thrilling such a little task was." Her lips curled into a small smile, because it was true. The excitement she earned from talking about any sort of plant was often considered a strange quirk, but Portia would never apologize for it. She was high on life-- and saving the lives of others, and her extensive knowledge of herbs and plants would be the only thing that could keep some of them safe.