Blackwater Islands gemini feed
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#1
she had been escorted here, to the forest of the island, a short while ago—her fellow Sister had only left at Galateia's insistence. the pearls breathing became labored when the other was out of sight, and her head swung to face a nearby tree. on unstable legs did Galateia move toward it, stumbling more than walking, but once she was beside it the thing became her scaffold. the low-hanging branches caressed her face, and she was comforted. looking down, Galateia noted a familiar shaped leaf swaying in the gentle breeze. she knew this plant, as she had known many. scutelleria, she breathed the word. good for muscle tension. her coiled muscles were aflame within her, and her eyes scoured the rest of the forest floor. there was much of this herb here, she observed—much to her fortune.
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#2
With the worst of the cold behind them, Whip spent more and more time within the Thistlewood as opposed to the shoreline. The Mother's call to the sea affected the others deeply -- as it also did for Whip -- and yet, the forest called to him as well. There was so much life within; so much vibrancy that Whip wished to lose himself in. But most of all, the forest was Whip's sanctuary. It was a quiet place where he could go to be alone. For an avoidant soul like Whip, a place like this was practically heaven. He could reflect. He could sleep. All undisturbed.

But, Whip was not alone this day. He had not accompanied her, but Whip had watched from afar. She was just as beautiful as she had been that day he first saw her struggling to stand. Perhaps even more so with her strength returning fast. From where Whip stood, he listened. her voice was like a whisper. He cold hardly hear it from his place among the thicket. The plant that she actively examined at her forepaws was one that Whip had seen before, though he did not know its name or use. However, it was common in the Thistlewood.

He stepped forward, signaling his approach with a throaty chuff. "You're walking!" he then exclaimed. There was an undeniable enthusiam in his voice (which sounded foreign even to Whip himself).
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#3
her cheeks warmed as she heard the sound of a familiar voice—not for who it belonged to, but for them seeing her again in a state of pain and struggle! she was bashful, and though she accepted and believed in the ideals of all beliefs of the Nereid women, it truly was difficult to think onesself superior to anyone in the state she was in; it was hardly conducive to the superior way she was meant to feel. at the very least, Galateia was able to hold herself well—and as he spoke she brought herself to look at him. the joy in his voice put her at ease, and she could not help but smile at his words. only a little, she murmured, though she was proud of what she had accomplished. the slow wave of her plume seemed to tell this, before she spoke again: It is difficult... but it shall be worth it, and she looked, again, to her feet. recalling that he wished to learn to heal, she gently nosed the budding herb alongside her pale paw, and looked up at him through thick lashes. do you know what this is? she inquired, her emerald eyes agleam.
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#4
A little was a fine start, thought Whip. After all, one couldn't regain their strength in a single day. After his first breakdown at Redhawk Caldera, it had taken Whip weeks to recover from his own self-inflicted injuries. He figured that it was more or less the same with Galateia (despite the fact that her weakness hadn't been the spawn of a delusional manic fit. /shrug). Nor would she bear the mark of her birth for the rest of her life, unlike Whip, who carried a reminder of his stupidity wherever he went.

Galateia's smile was easily infectious. He himself smiled bashfully as he looked to the plant that she gestured at. Whip shook his head. "It's, um -- it's a plant," he answered, stating the obvious. Unfortuantly, Galateia would have to teach her pupil from the ground up. He did, however, know that the plant would have some sort of use, or else she wouldnt have pointed it out specifically. "What's it do?" he asked.
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#5
good, Galateia commended—she imagined in this world there were some who did not even know that much. he spoke again, and Galateia lowered herself to her belly, her forelegs wrapped around the small plant. she did this to work her muscles, and also to relax them some once again. this plant has a name—scutelleria, she informed Whip, so he would know it by sight, scent, and what it was called. the first two were most important, but to call it 'scutelleria' was effective in moments of need, when only one word was required. it helps when one is feeling anxious to ingest this. it also helps relieve muscle tension, she informed, her eyes warm upon the growing herb. the birds sang above her as she spoke on it, and her emerald eyes lifted upward as she listened. the birds say... it can also aid a wolf infected with rabies, if it is found early enough, her ears cupped, though they said no more, and she looked to Whip, wondering if he had any inquiries about it.
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#6
"Scutell-errr-ia," Whip repeated, albeit clumsily. As Galateia settled along the ground, Whip moved forward to examine the plant in full. He lowered his head and drew his gaze near as he listened closely to the effects. To log them to memory, Whip repeated them to himself in his head. Anxiety. Muscle tension. Rabies... maybe. He then inhaled. Not once. Not twice. But three times as he tried to memorize the herb's scent profile. Having seen it about before, Whip thought he would have no trouble identifying it -- but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Can I try it now?" He asked. "You know, to see what it does first hand. Or, uh -- would that be a bad idea?" After all, Whip had always been a bit tightly wound and anxious naturally.
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#7
his tongue drew the word slowly, and once he had finished she nodded. he sniffed them, which she thought was wise, though his inquiry caused her to look at him, perplexed. she did not think him to be an abuser of remedies, and so it was this which brought her to ask, truly interested: do you feel anxious, often? and, in lieu of his final question, Galateia informed: to try things first hand would not be advised unless you absolutely must, for fear of a patient being poisoned—which could only occur if you were being taught something by one you were not certain you could trust, this she said not because she believed he mistrusted her but because if he went outside of the Nereids island to learn from another whom he was unsure of, if he were to procure the remedy through that it was his duty to know it was a remedy. this was not about sex to Galateia, but about the duty of a doctor to those they sought to help. Galateia would do the very same.
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#8
Whip nodded. "I, uh -- I have fits," he answered. When he was younger and more prone to childish angst, Whip found himself dangling from anxiety's strings; a puppet, no longer in control of himself or his actions. He had not broken truly since his father's passing. Strangly, the loss of his mother did not stir the same powerful emotions. However, despite not boiling over and losing control again, there were times that Whip still felt himself dangling percariously from the wire. "Mom thought I was crazy, but Dad -- Dad understood." Whip cast his gaze down. He had just made himself sad.

Perhaps he shouldn't try it, he reasoned. But, Galateia wasn't any joe-blow down the street who thought they knew about plants. She had been gifted her knowledge from Mother Sea herself. "I trust you though. You wouldn't hurt me?" Whip had meant to make a statement, but his voice lifted as if he was posing a question. "I mean, I want to fix others -- but I want to fix myself too."
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#9
I would not, Galateia rejoined in earnest—not without provocation, justification, and surely he knew this. it was not her way to harm any, as it was not her way to be cruel. there is no harm in this. you may try some, she decided, though you shall start small, to become acclimated to it. it may be overwhelming for you, to take too much at once. she nodded to him, and brought herself to a stand. she moved on unsteady limbs toward one that was not budding, and fortunately it was not too far off. her slender muzzle pointed toward it, for him to pick. do not ingest it straightaway, she hummed, pick it, first—take only a leaf from it, she instructed.
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#10
He had her word, and that seemed enough. Of all the sirens, Whip felt Galateia was the least likely to lead him astray. She practically exuded kindness; a brightly shining beacon in a dark, dark place. In some ways, she reminded him of his sister, particularly when it came to her selfless nature. Whip someday hoped that he could be like her -- to somehow be stable enough with himself that he could devote his time to others selflessly. That day would likely never come, but he was hopeful.

He reached out, plucking a single leaf gingerly with his teeth as directed. For a moment, he sat with it in his mouth, unsure of what to do next. So, he sat the leaf down by his forepaws and asked, "Do I chew it, or...?" What now?
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his inquiry was met with a swift shake of her head. break the thing in two—let it linger on your tongue a moment, and then I will tell you when you may chew to swallow. first, I must ensure you do not react negatively to it, for the birds have spoken of negative reactions in some—allergic ones—though she hadn't the name for it. you will not yet take the whole of the leaf—for this herb is particularly potent, and too much at once may cause you to feel more anxious than you already do, the same would apply to her. she must not take the whole of the leaf, unused to it as she was lest her muscles feel too lax.
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#12
This was all useful information. When he had been dosed by Raven with poppy, she had been less concerned with adverse reactions or any other safety concerns. She just gave him the go ahead. Thankfully, unbeknownst to Whip, he was lucky that he left the caldera when he did. Her miracle poppy powder had already started to destroy him -- had he spiraled out of control any longer with it, he would have had much larger problems on his hands paws. Galateia, it seemed, was much more thorough. This was yet another thing that set Whip at ease.

He did as she instructed; tearing away half of the leaf and letting it linger on the surface of his tongue. It had a distinct earthy taste. Whip looked to his teacher and waited for his next instructions. It would take time, he figured, for its effect to kick in. After all, with Whip's experience with poppy, it had taken nearly a half hour to feel anything at all.
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#13
when he did not react adversely after a few minutes, she nodded to him. it would be safe for him to eat—he had not displayed the external signs of an allergic reaction, which was typically immediate in its occurrence. you may chew and swallow, now, she spoke softly. Galateia would wait with him whilst the thing went into his system until he felt its effect—in the meantime, she would work her muscles by flexing and pointing her forelegs, and stretching her hinds.
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#14
In silence, they waited for who knows how long. The time in actuality was quite short: a few minutes at most. And yet, it felt like much longer. Perhaps it was because Whip believed that something might happen to him. Something bad. The way Galateia spoke, she made it seem like adverse effects were commonplace. It also didn't help that he couldn't talk with the leaf resting on his tongue. He could not ask questions. Though, with his gaze fixed on Galateia's face, Whip felt that he really didn't need to.

To Whip's relief, nothing happened.

With further instruction, Whip pushed the leaf around his mouth before he started chewing. His jaws moved with a hint of thoughtful reluctance. Then, when it had been reduced to a fibrous pulp, Whip swallowed thickly like a young boy taking bitter medicine from his mother's spoon. He did not know how long it would take to feel an effect. It appeared Galateia was settling in for the long haul as she stretched her willowy limbs. "So, what now?" he asked. Whip settled along her flank, belly flat against the ground.
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#15
he relaxed somewhat, settling alongside her. as Galateia worked her limbs he asked his question, and her eyes turned toward him. we wait; it may be some time before you feel the effects of this herb upon you, and I desire to be near you to ensure you take to it well, she informed. though the odds of him reacting negatively were slim, she wanted to be certain he did not—she wanted to be there, if it did. she went above and beyond for those she took under her care, as she only wanted them to feel better again. for the opposite to occur was her greatest fear, but Galateia would know what to do; The Mothers had taught her well!
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#16
Whip nodded his head. "Okay," he said, resigning himself to wait for the herb to take effect. Whether she wanted him to sit in silence as he waited, Whip was unsure. Many of the sirens were not keen on small talk, especially with a drudge like Whip, and those who did treated it like some chore to do so (save for perhaps Akantha, at times). Galateia however was different from the other nerds, at least -- to Whip she was. But to be safe, the boy fell into a silent spell for the minutes that followed.

In that time, Whip watched her as she stretched languidly across the ground. His gaze followed along her thin spindle limbs and on to her threadbare body. And then, her face. He wanted to say something, but he just didn't know what. So... true to his age as an awkward, gawky teenager, Whip forgot to think. "I uh," Whip stuttered. "I think— Ithinkyou'rereallypretty." His words all slurred together as if he couldnt spit them out fast enough. He then looked down at his own outsteched forepaws; eyes wide with surprise in what he himself had said.
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#17
the words came from him quickly, and galateia became suddenly bashful. never before had her appearance been a subject of conversation—truly, the pearl was breathtakingly beautiful, the valleys own veritable goddess of beauty, but she was unaware of this. in her present state galateia was but a shell of this, thin and narrow and not at all voluptuous as she had once been from her days at sea, where she had starved. she blinked, and with a puzzled expression asked him: you do? for while she was trusting of all others said, she had never before heard this before in her life that she could recall.
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