Hushed Willows You Won't Leave the Table, She Won't Leave Your Mind

This is the banner thingy for Herbalist's Fall btw! For inspo

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't thought about the mouse as often as she thought about her duties. Though she told herself the handsome boy probably hadn't been flirting with her, that she shouldn't get attached to his presence before he left to find the destiny he sought, she couldn't help but daydream. Sometimes she replayed their meeting in her head, adding starlight and moonbeams wherever she saw fit, the moments fluttering around in her head like herself on sunny mornings. She'd never had a love interest before - no boyfriend or husband or - as her mother had told her about - been betrothed to someone at a young age. She'd been far too odd for a marriage that would benefit their infamous bloodline, she could never make a man happy the way she was supposed to, they told her.

That was mostly why she'd never dared and tried to conjure up a relationship before. Not that she had had many opportunities to do so. The male faeries they had weren't exactly her type; perhaps the adorable Fionn could have been a match, if he wasn't head over heels for the pretty Deidra nor been such a druggie. The women on the other hand... but no, she couldn't possibly! The thought was conflicting with what she'd been taught at "home"; that women were there for the pleasure of men, to stand by them and strengthen their bloodline. That's what her mother thought, anyway. She didn't believe it, not really, but it still made her feel conflicted about the feelings she had had for the beautiful siren she'd met on her travels, before the founding of the court.

She was sitting at what would soon be known as Herbalist's Fall, brushing her coat and enjoying the sound of the water. The place was beautiful; from the top of the mountain ran a stream, all the way down and eventually falling in a small lake. The water was fresh and allowed for fish, herbs and flowers. Even the rocks were green of life, and the chatter of birds could be heard as they sought out the spring berries. Perhaps in summer they would turn even more vocal, as it allowed for more berries.

It was then that the songs were interrupted by some kind of thumping. Her ears flicked around, and her head soon followed. Dante? She called when she spotted a familiar mousy coat. He was hidden by the curtain of willow branches for the most part, but she'd seen him so many times in her daydreams that it was hard to mistake it for someone else.