Neverwinter Forest Gathering what's given

for @Y'var'la

Íruna moved through the dense woods, the soft underbrush giving way beneath her paws as she searched for the herbs she needed.

She paused by a cluster of ferns, inspecting them carefully, her gaze intent. It wasn’t the herbs she needed, but where these grew, others were just around the corner, perhaps an abundance of what she sought just beyond the trees.

With a gentle breath, she stepped forward, continuing on through the thickening woods.

The herbs she gathered were her offering, her service, to the gods and to the people of Forneskja.

Y’var’la watched from the shadows, her lithe figure cloaked by the thick brush. The woman moved with the grace of one accustomed to the forest's rhythm, each step deliberate, her senses sharp.

She allowed a few moments of silence to pass before she stepped forward, the soft crunch of leaves beneath her paws betraying her position. “Hello,” Her voice was like a low whisper, though the words held a cutting edge. 

The air around them smelled faintly of damp earth and the crispness of the coming winter, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the soft lavender and cedar clinging to her own fur. “Searching for something specific?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur, cutting through the stillness of the forest.

Íruna’s ears swiveled at the faint crunch of leaves, her lavender eyes darting toward the sound as the figure stepped from the shadows. Recognition softened her gaze slightly, though her wariness didn’t entirely fade.

“Y’var’la,” Íruna greeted, tail swishing to life behind her. She hadn't yet gotten to make her acquaintance, but Íruna had busied herself with learning who everyone was. Or, at least the people who interested her.

“I’m searching for healing roots,” She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, the faint twitch of her ears betraying her nerves. “Winter is upon us, and the stores must be filled before the frost takes what’s left.”

She took a few bracing steps onwards, frame swiveling as she glimpsed around at the undergrowth. A bit of a nervous wreck, now; she had been searching for a good part of her morning, and had yet to come across anything useful.

Perhaps she could bait Y'var'la into offering her help. She tilted her head in curiosity. “Yarrow roots,” she spoke again suddenly, her tail giving a soft flick. “They’re pale, with a slight taper, and grow best in loose soil near the edges of clearings. Their scent is faintly earthy, almost sweet when fresh. Good for slowing bleeding.”

Then, her eyes darted along the leafy brush. “There’s also comfrey. Its roots are dark, almost black, and thick with a rough texture. Chewed into a poultice, it can ease pain and help broken bones mend faster.”

Y’var’la watched Íruna closely, noting the flick of her tail and the subtle shift in her stance. It was clear she was more than just a wanderer; there was a depth to her, a quiet purpose that Y’var’la appreciated—though it did little to soften her aloofness.

"Yarrow, comfrey..." she mused aloud, her tone lightly dismissive, but there was a flicker of interest behind her steely gaze. "I know the plants." She took a step forward, her delicate feet gliding over the underbrush without a sound.

"I am no healer," Her gaze flicked to the ground, "but perhaps... I could help. There’s a clearing not far from here. Just beyond those birches." She gestured lazily with one slender paw, the motion elegant, as though she could hardly be bothered. "You'll find your yarrow there. And some comfrey, if you're lucky. Not everything grows as you expect it to, though."

Íruna took in Y’var’la’s words with a quiet nod, her lavender eyes tracking the subtle movements of the other woman. An appreciative nod encompassed the Seer, eyes sweeping across Y'var'la with distinct appreciation. 

“Thank you, Y'var'la. I find still I don't know our home as well as I'd like to.” Íruna said, her voice steady but warm. She allowed her gaze to drift toward the birches in the distance, considering the path.

“It’s always a gift to learn from someone with a keener eye.” She offered a quiet bow, a curtsy of sorts, before she raised once more.

Her tail swished as she turned in the direction of the clearing mentioned, and then cast a glance back at her company. "Come!" She beckoned with a soft laugh.

Y’var’la’s expression remained cool, though there was a flicker of approval in the way her eyes narrowed at the respectful nod Íruna offered. It was a subtle thing, but Y’var’la had grown used to the art of reading others—something about the woman’s poise piqued her curiosity.

“Perhaps,” she mused, her voice smooth, “you’ll learn faster with the right company.” Her words hung in the air, not entirely encouraging, but there was an undeniable sharpness to them—a quiet compliment veiled in her typical aloofness.

The beckoning gesture caught her off guard for a moment, but Y’var’la’s lips curled into a barely-there smirk. She took a deliberate step, her gaze flicking back to the clearing as she moved to follow.

Íruna caught the faint smirk and the sharp edge to Y’var’la’s words, but her expression remained composed. She had no need to read deeply into the other’s intentions.

“I’ve always believed in learning by doing,” Íruna replied simply, her tone even but not without a touch of warmth. She turned to lead the way, her steps deliberate as she moved toward the clearing Y’var’la had pointed out earlier.

As they walked, she cast a glance over her shoulder, meeting the other woman’s gaze briefly. “I suppose we'll just have to put your theory to the test.”

Y’var’la’s gaze flicked over Íruna as she fell into step behind her, unhurried as she kept pace, allowing the space between them to remain unbroken. A flicker of amusement crossed her features again at Íruna’s challenge, though it was fleeting.

“A fine approach,” Y’var’la echoed, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves held a certain weight. “—if you’re willing to risk what you don’t know. ” Her tone was teasing, but there was an underlying edge of something else—curiosity, perhaps.

As they neared the clearing, Y’var’la’s gaze swept the horizon, a knowing look settling over her features as she caught sight of the faintest shimmer of green on the edge of the trees. "There. Your roots should be close."

“You never learn by playing it safe.” the woman teased.

As Y’var’la motioned toward the faint shimmer of green, Íruna followed her gaze. Without hesitation, she moved forward, strides hurried.

“I see them,” her words were soft, spoken in a soft gasp. Her eyes lit up with excitement.

She crouched slightly, brushing her paw lightly over the edges of the foliage, a smile lighting up her face.

Y’var’la’s ears twitched at Íruna’s teasing, but she didn’t respond immediately, letting the words linger like a faint echo in the crisp air. Her sharp gaze tracked Íruna’s hurried strides, a flicker of curiosity breaking her otherwise stoic demeanor.

“You’re quick to embrace what you seek,” Y’var’la remarked, her tone laced with a faint, almost imperceptible amusement. She stood a few paces away, her head tilting slightly as she observed the way Íruna’s paw brushed over the foliage, delicate and reverent.

The smile lighting up Íruna’s face struck her like a flash of warmth cutting through the cool detachment she wore. It was... pleasant, though Y’var’la would never admit such a thing outright.

“You’ve found your yarrow,” Y’var’la said, her voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "It seems the frost hasn’t claimed everything yet." Her gaze lingered on the small patch of green before shifting back to Íruna.

“The frost is remorseful this year,” she replied in soft agreement, voice touched with quiet gratitude. She plucked a small sprig with care, setting it gently aside as she continued to sift through the foliage.

Rising to her full height, Íruna glanced back at Y’var’la, lavender eyes meeting her sharp stare. “Perhaps it’s a sign,” she added lightly, a joyful lilt to her voice, though she never expected much. Her tail flicked behind her as she turned her attention back to the plants. “We may thank the Vættir for their favor.”

She crouched again, her movements unhurried, methodical.

“There’s more here than I thought,” she noted, voice softer now, mostly to herself. “Enough for what I need, and then some. Would you carry some, Y'var'la?”

She turned back, soft eyes upon the other woman.