Silver Creek Dried herbs in the winter sun

“Laid to rest, a bothered heart, so full of torment, so wracked with smart,” a familiar voice whisked across the morn’s shimmering veil. It was the song very few knew, and while Dawson had picked it up on his travels, the tune stuck with him, even if the meaning had not. It had a sort of romance to it, he mused, and while he mused, his usual melancholy seemed to wash away with the lyrics. “I’d never felt so torn apart, until she was taken from me...” The blonde caped ivory serpent swept into the presence of his sister, the one he hadn’t been searching for in the slightest, yet seemed to always cross when she wasn’t looking. Miraculous azures tickled over the svelte dame, and while he loved seeing a good woman do her work, he loved it even more when it was his own blood setting an example for the harem of women his brother had accumulated. Or rather summoned, as it seemed wherever his burly handsome sibling went, women flocked as starved pigeons would. 


He wasn’t surprised to see his sister dabbling with plants again- when men needed their healing, her capabilities were always on hand and perfect. Her timing, essential. Her manners and demeanor, pristine. Father was proud of his ideals, and he was proud of his children keeping the legacy going. He would remain proud should he had seen his smallest daughter working so diligently. As indeed, a woman should. 


“Good morning, sister,” the light greeting was average to most, loving and considerate almost, but here, it demanded a response.

And be damned her pretty heart, should he not get one.