Blackfeather Woods addict with a pen
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Ooc — Talamasca
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All Welcome 
For the DB quest, "Where Life Grows".



He trailed along through the woods, feeling an itch behind his eyes even though one of them wasn't there; a burning in his skin, a hunger in the pit of his belly. His head was pounding—but he passed over one cache, and another, barely rooting through the soil as he went, and at long last seemed to give up whatever mania had taken hold of him.

Mou was looking for a medicine cache, and those he ignored were filled with dead frogs and squirrels, neither of which would place him in the state that he was craving at this moment. He burned for it. The need was so immense that he began to seek out any wildflower he could find, snapping at the air because of his poor depth perception. One such snap brought his teeth dangerously near a tall stalk tipped with white flowers, and managed to crunch through a section of the bloom.

In his right mind, he knew that poppies did not look like this. In fact, he couldn't recall ever seeing such a plant within the confines of the wood before, but none of that mattered. Maybe this would have a different effect — more potent than poppies — and it would calm the blazing desire within him.
Ghost
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Ghostlike, she floated through the forest, watching him. She wasn't sure what the nature of their relationship was. Friends? Sure. But it was deeper than that, something twisted, like roots into the ground. She didn't understand a bit of it. She knew, though, that she needed to look out for him, to protect him. Not only from others, but from himself.

Maegi saw him snap through the plant and surged forward, remembering how brazenly the dark girl--her sister, she thought darkly, unwillingly--had eaten the poison. Nearly barrelling into him, her eyes widened as she saw how much he had already consumed. It was an unfamiliar plant, could be harmless--but more than likely was not.

"Mou, do you know what that plant is?" she asked, a harsh edge to her tone. "Because I don't. You can't eat that much of something if you don't know what it is! It could kill you!" Losing Astara would have been sad--losing Mou would be earth-shattering, unthinkable.
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The burning sensation within his skin and eyes was a mental side effect of his craving, and as such was not a true reaction. There was no real irritation there, only a psychosomatic one, until Mou had gotten hold of those florets of white blossoms. He heard Maegi's voice slice through the air with warning and concern, but he couldn't help the small amount of plant matter that slipped down his throat any more than he could've helped his desperate need for his medicine; he was an addict and would do anything to make himself reach that blissfull stage of floating.

But she was right, he was stupid. Her questions were met with huffing and shrugging and a whole manner of out-of-character posturing as he tried to back away; Mou didn't want her around him right now, not unless she had some medicine for him. Especially not if she was going to come between him and his goal of acquiring that high. So what if these were the wrong plants? So what if he'd never seen them before; he didn't know where the poppy seeds came from and there was just as much likelihood he could get high off of these flowers as any other. As we've covered, Mou was stupid.

What he had ingested wasn't incredibly toxic — there were some varieties of hemlock that looked decidedly similar to queen anne's lace, you see — but it did have an effect. The clusters of white flowers soured his stomach as soon as they touched down in to the pit of his belly, and afterward Mou felt a sensation similar to capsicum spreading across his lips, his tongue, down his throat — and his recoiling became more frantic, more panicked, when he realized his mistake. No, he hadn't ingested a poison, but the irritation of aethusa cynapium was not something to laugh at.
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The girl hung her head, groaning in frustration as Mou began to back away from her, muttering nonsensical--excuses, or whatever. It was when he began to panic that her own fear came back, tenfold, and she seized the moment. Goddamn it, why did he have to get himself into this, too? She was kind of tired of rescuing wolves from their own stupid decisions.

"You need yarrow," Maegi commanded, fixing him with a steely stare--or, at least, what she hoped was a firm enough look, frightened as she was. "Stay here; I'll be right back." The wraith spun and raced down the forest trail without another word, looking for her nearest cache. The nearest cache with yarrow, that was. Gods, she'd have to spread it out through the forest, wouldn't she?

Once she'd located the clump--not too far away, but not close, either--Maegi rushed back (well, as "rushed" as she could be with her clubbed paw), the bundle of yellow flowers and fading green stems and leaves tucked under her chin. She thrust it toward Mou; it came apart, a bit, but largely remained intact. "Eat it," she gasped out, trying to catch her breath from the run. "It'll get the poison out of your body. Eat it, Mou."
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The burning could've been equated to heartburn or the sensation that one might experience after consuming a bottle of hot sauce. It wasn't something that any wolf would naturally come in to contact with. He should've known better - the look on Maegi's face told him that much - but he couldn't keep his eye on her when it began to water. He gagged and coughed as the sensation crept down his throat and began to irritate his stomach. It would only get worse unless he could expell the flowers he had swallowed.
She gave him an order - he heard it but was distracted.
Then, he was alone for a bit. His coughing sounding almost like brief snarls. He huffed through his nose until the burning caught in his windpipe and started working up, to his face and snout, and began to nibble on a patch of grass until there was a bald spot beneath him. The grass didn't help, but it didn't hurt either.
Then Maegi was back, and demanding he eat what she offered. He didn't need to be told twice — and soon the yarrow was being gobbled up, but there wasn't immediate relief, and he was unable to prevent the scowl that graced his features.


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Okay. . .okay. He had swallowed the yarrow; now all there was to do was wait. She knew from the look on his face that it would not be a pleasant wait, either. "It takes a little while to work," she said, summoning all the patience she had in reserve. Sighing, she settled back on her haunches, the adrenaline-laced fear fading into something heavier, more deep-seated. Dread.

"You'll throw up," Maegi said casually, grimacing. "Sorry. But it'll get the poisons out of your system. I'm not sure what you ate, but. . ." She rose to her feet and padded over to the plant, peering at it. Given Mou's explosive reaction, she didn't want to test it herself, but perhaps he could give her more details.

"What did you feel?" she asked, craning her neck to stare at him, gaze more curious than concerned. "What did it do to you?"
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You'll throw up,
she warns. If it means the burning stops, he's on board for that.

He nods his understanding but every movement of his neck seems to cause more irritation, and he's back to coughing again. Mou knows not to let the coughing take hold too soon or else he'll throw up the yarrow he's just swallowed. He swallows a few more times to make sure its down. Each attempt burns like the last, and he licks at his lips, his teeth, touches the roof of his mouth with his tongue, nothing seems to help.

When she asks him what it feels like — because it didn't stop just because he's eaten another plant — he wheezes and cannot make any words. He mouths, Hot. Burning swallow, fire in belly -- he has to try a few times to get that last word out, and once he mouths it cleanly he begins to duck his head like a mother bird about to serve dinner.

A small wave of bile collects at the back of his mouth, flowing along his gums. A convulsion takes over his stomach and his bobbing is more violent, this time ending with an abrupt wave of watery vomit. A few pieces of plant matter hit the dirt.


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The girl tried very hard to read his lips, but through his clear discomfort, she only caught the words hot and fire. Still, that was all she needed to know, right? She was contemplating these side effects when he began to retch, and she turned her head to spare him her gaze as he vomited up the contents of his stomach, hopefully alleviating most, if not all, of his pain.

"Better?" Maegi asked, giving him a few moments to compose himself. Once all was settled, she turned on her heel and signaled for him to follow, looking back over her shoulder. "C'mon. You should get some water--it'll cool the burning, if it's still there." Not to mention wash away the green taste from his mouth. Some herbs were okay, but none compared to fresh meat, even if they did send your brain to amazing places.
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Mou wanted to feel better. He wanted to tell her, yeah, that worked, thanks. But the sensation wouldn't be eased so easily. The yarrow continued to do its work and he was wretching and vomiting every few steps until his belly was empty, but by the time she was telling him to drink water, there was a distinctly red tone to his saliva that streaked across his lips and chin. The plant he ate caused that burning and his stomach lining was not very happy about it.

But he did as he was told, and followed after her in search of something to drink. Maybe water was all he needed. Certainly couldn't hurt. He'd feel much better once the coppery taste of his blood was off his tongue.
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They reached the creek, and Maegi bent her head, eagerly lapping up the water. She'd not taken any plant today and yet her mouth held that taste. Perhaps it was just sympathy, for Mou. She flicked an ear at him, encouraging her friend to drink as well. It was cool against her throat; it would feel heavenly on the burning he had described.

The girl lifted her head, licking her chops and settling back on her haunches with a weary sigh. She closed her eyes, and felt rather than saw the flutter of wings, and Blue landed on her shoulder, digging just slightly with his claws. More likely than not regarding Mou warily; the grackle was still getting used to him, but liked him more than the rest.

"Don't eat the tall stalks with white flowers," she muttered, stifling a yawn. "Poison. They burn." No shit, Sherlock, thought Blue. But all she heard was a quiet squawk, and then he was silent, a sapphire-and-sable sentinel on her shoulder.
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They moved to the creek and when she dipped her head to drink, Mou did the same a second or two later. He heard her pause and thought he heard the fluttering of wings, but the boy was too distracted as he drank and drank and drank. The water was cold. It stung his throat but not as much as the plants had. It wasn't as refreshing as he'd hope though, more like a balm across an injury, stinging and helping at the same time. When he was done he lifted his head away from the creek, water dripping off his chin, and heard Maegi's warning. The bird responded with a little sound of its own, and the boy nodded, huffing softly. He would be more careful in the future — or that's what he vowed to himself, but who knows how well that would go.