Dove lifted her head.

Her face made a very distorted motion, her lips moving to the left, to the right, and frowned again. She stuck her tongue out at Vyn. Like a child! Oh no! She has learned the absolute worse- Marcy had taught her the most vulgar of activities. She leaned back, breaking away from the deva, and leaning onto the ground beside her, stretching out her small form across the ground, a few muscles spasms- twitching a bit, before relaxing. Her head slightly pulsing. Not hurting. Just feeling the sensations..

"That- is not a fair trade.." she sighed loftily. "Only you win here." A snort.

"Jem- can.. can you believe this- she's.. trying to sell left-- left over dinner like it's the high crown from a-- king." she waved an arm. "Bad- bad form."

She sit up, rolling her eyes. "You- will HAVE to try better than that!" she snorted.
 
A look of deep offense at the tongue. A gasp even. Hand to chest. Wounded. Betrayed. Barely holding it together. „Oh no.“ She whispered. „She's gone full Marcy.“ The bowl quickly moved away as if it needed protection from this madness.

„Insult to the stew.“ A hiss. „Stew of lineage. Stew of knowing.“ Dropping back to a whisper. „This stew watched a man propose to his third wife... And his first wife forgive him for it.“ Legend fading back into memory.

„Fine. Fiiine.“ She sighed like it upset her. And started eating casually from the bowl meant for Dove. „More for me.“

A brief look at Jem and a sign.

Reinforcements

A call for help if there ever was one.
 
This was either an act of comfort, feeling safe enough to be so open about something like this.

Or- she was annoyed and feeling rather brave- stewing in her disappointment. But what comes from her mouth is very unchecked- something that was for the first time something she revealed to the wagon. To Vyn and Jem.

A huff! Indignant, and she sat up, frowning, her eyes filled with emotion. Something mixed with annoyance. "You know, you don't exactly have to keep fluffing up these weird little moments to get me to do something. Especially the ones you make up. I know when you're lying."

What.

There was a little pressure behind her eyes, and her hands move to the bridge of her nose, pinching it. "Everyone here, they wear their feelings on the cuff of their being. On the clothes you share. On the food. The words." She isn't exactly aware of how invasive or rude- "It's not hard to get wrapped in the feeling, and see the moments for myself, as if I am there." she frowned. "And it's also- not hard- to see what's going on- when I can feel the energy beneath your skin."

With a stubborn pout, she reaches for a spare piece of bread, and crams it into her mouth in one solid push. It's dry. Uncomfortable. Perhaps even a bit grounding, ironically enough. But she ate. Happy now, Vyn? She crossed her arms, put them on her knees, looking out of the tent like she was grounded and somehow trapped inside.

The deva had now ruined her fun.
 
Didn't answer right away. No need to flinch either. Just a nod to the disappearing food. Not a celebration. Recognition. Her eyes stayed on the fire. Trying to make sense of its shapes. When the voice finally came, it lost some of its warmth. Taken an edge.

„If you can feel the bad before it comes.“ Her fingers tapped the bowl. Repetition not as soothing as one would hope. „Why be scared at all?“ No challenge behind it. Simply curiosity.

She wouldn't look at Dove fully. Couldn't. The kind of respect you showed someone who shared too much without meaning to.

Just enough. Space. Kindness. Not a single word of the other beneath the skin. Enough.

Vyn knew better than to be a Truenamer to this woman.
 
"..."

As if someone had just ripped the bandage off, there is a wince. An ache. She strayed her hand too close to the metaphorical fire, and now- it was burned. Unaware of how she got here. Definitely not aware of where it was going. Her head was pounding. But at this point, was it from the booze? Or was it a memory? The mind may forget- but the body always remembers. And grief was a heavy weight to hold. "... Because I can feel what is currently being felt. Perhaps what was felt. But I can't feel what is to come. And I don't know how someone will feel when their hand is seen."

She withers, her wings sinking to the side of her body, curling around her, as if she was self soothing. Her chest hurt-, a searing pain that clawed from her navel up to her neck. Her hand traces the movement beneath her robe. Her head resting for a moment. And something wells, so deeply- a stone thrown in, now thrashing within- and she couldn't stop the feeling from breaching, something wet sliding down the side of her cheeks.

".. And I don't know what people will do when they feel a sort of way-" Her voice cracks.

There is a moment purchased by the bird's words, where the world seemed a bit too still for comfort. Even for her own. It suffocates her. With a clumsy shuffle, she makes her way to her feet, a flap or two to keep her balance. Her head spins, and she staggers for a moment. But she wanted to leave- and she wanted to leave now. So she starts to move out of the tent. Out of the wagon. A spray of white feathers in her wake. Messy bread crumbs on the ground.
 
Vyn didn't stop her. Didn't call out or rise. Just turned her head and watched the feathers fall. Reminded her of snow on a windy day. White and undecided. Breadcrumbs, scattered like a trail for a bird too tired to make the journey home.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around the bowl, but it felt cold now. White knuckled grip on something warm and grounding. Silence still had teeth. Not because Dove cried. Or fled. Because she spoke true. And her truth had teeth.

No one ever knew what people would do.

When Vyn's voice finally came, it was low and slow. Maybe to Jem. Maybe to the fire. Maybe to herself. „She thinks I was trying to feed her dinner.“ So tired. „Was just trying to give her a reason to stay.“

She'd clean them up. The feathers. Not now.

Maybe tomorrow.
 
It was a gamble to anyone where she went afterwards.

She certainly was not there in the morning, when everyone woke up. Also was not there in the afternoon either. For a moment, it did seem like maybe she did leave the wagon. However, as the sun started to cast itself beneath the horizon, painting the sky in a glorious flurry of colors, dancing across the clouds, wrapped in the music of the coming night. Yet, somehow- she did find her way back. And she did return.

With her was a basket of some herbs, some common some- not so common. Probably a byproduct of her services, but she was happy to offer what she found to those who asked. A very particularly fond product was what looked to be some sap from a tree that was extremely.. extremely sweet. Not honey, but something different. The children enjoyed sucking on the crystalized bits, while she worked on getting the rest of it moved from her waterskin to a jar.

She seemed to return to normal. If, albeit- perhaps a bit quieter than normal. Pretending that the night before hadn't happened at all. She seemed a little.. 'lighter'. As in, not as poofy. Much to the dismay of the children who torment her.

Perhaps the only bit of abnormality one got out of her was when she caught Jem's glance, which was met with a minor amount of panic. After all, he witnessed her be an ass.. And usually, wherever Jem was- Vyn wasn't that far behind.
 
Jem didn't flinch at the sight of her. No look of surprise. No disapproval. Just gave her a small nod. Same one he gave her yesterday. Same one he'd offer tomorrow.

„Bit lighter today.“ He said as she came closer. Faint smile as he went back to the lantern in his hands. „Kids miss the poof. Say it was easier to spot you from a distance.“

Gently, as he kept his hands busy. „Vyn can be...“ He would let it rest there for a bit. „It can be a bit much sometimes.“ He lit the wick, satisfied. „She'll be back soon.“

„You found anything good out there?“ Dusted his hands on his trousers, and looked her way.

As if nothing had happened. Because, to the Road, nothing had. Friends fought.

Fire still burned.

The wheel still turned.
 
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She nodded, and without issue, she took a moment to open the basket and briefly show Jem what she had acquired. It was, of course, herbs. Spices. Little shiny rocks and other little bits that she felt the wagon would enjoy. A suitable tribute. Much like a bird collecting things to bring to the flock- so did Dove in that moment, and she let Jem peruse and pluck as he saw fit, if he chose to.

".. I- I needed to get rid of the loose feathers.. I cannot have my winter coat going into summer after all.." Her smile is weak. Tired even. "And- well.. it.. it's been a while.. since, I.. you know.." Her hands twisted a silvery lock, her anxiety fiddling the flighty hair into a knot. She trembled a bit.

There is a moment of silence. Dove reached into the basket, and something is pulled out. Something truly beautiful. Something that radiated kindness and divinity. A bouquet, carefully plucked, and arranged. The soft white petals of a lily of a valley, catching the edge of the setting sun, soft blue hyacinths hiding underneath their splendor. One single white orchid sits in the center. A message was in this. But it seemed to be one only Dove really knew.

The healer trembled, trying to hold her hand steady to not destroy the delicate gift she had arranged. She offers it to Jem. "... I.. I don't know.. how.. how to find her. B.. But if you.. do.. find.. her.. C.c.. could you.. you.. Gi.. Give" She stuttered, her teeth chattering, her body shaking. "C.. Could you give her this?" she asked the man.
 
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Jem didn't say much as Dove opened the basket. Crouched low beside her, taking in the herbs and the assorted shinies slowly. He sniffed a sprig of something and decided that right behind his ear is where it should be kept. When she spoke he just nodded at her words, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

„'Course!“ and a nod to the feathers. „Can't molt into summer with winter hangin' on.“

When the bouquet came out, Jem stilled. It was beautiful. The collection of blue and white with the one orchid neatly at the center. And it wasn't an accident. You didn't put this much care into something by accident. He inspected it for a moment, then looked at her. Waited for all her to finish. The trembling words were already difficult enough without him interrupting.

„They're real pretty.“ Quiet as a shadow. His brows came down in thought. „You want her to know they're from you?“ His voice always sounded like he was discussing socks or stew recipes, but his eyes were kind. „Sure you don't wanna give 'em yourself?“

A sigh before Dove had to choose.

„She'll be back soon,“ A promise. „Couple hours, I'd wager.“ He looked at the flowers again.

„I'll keep 'em safe 'til you say.“
 
"Ye.. Yes." she nodded.

This was the closest to words that she could offer the deva. Anything else would just further exacerbate it- she felt. Apologies- it was strange. It wasn't a vanity effort. But something about requesting the mercy of another- when you're confused, and scared, and worried. Her chest hurt again. She quietly stretches her hands across the top of her robe, and gently massages it.

".. Be.. Because I want to give her the choice."

There is a pause that hangs in the air, as she looks around. "I.. I am bad a.. at words"

With that, she picks up the remaining herbs. And with that, she takes her leave, finding a quiet spot to sort and prepare treatments for the journey ahead. The Road was a fun, but challenging path. It needed proper preparation.
 
Vyn returned just after the second bell. Boots muddy, coat more than a little scuffed. Smile back to intact. She found Jem sitting next to the water barrels, shelling beans as if he had all the time in the world. It never mattered much to him anyway.

„Told you I wouldn't be long.“ A greeting before she plopped down and took up a shell of her own to break.

„Mmm,“ he hummed, tossing shells aside. „You were right on the dot. Almost like you planned it.“

She eyed him curiously. The man was too observant for his own good. „What did I miss?“

Jem held up a bouquet. A simple mix of white and blue. Beautiful. Orchid in the center caught the light in a nice way. „Delivery came by. Said it was for you.“ Held it out for her. „Asked if you wanted to know who it was from.“

Vyn stilled. Quieted. She reached for the thing, but didn't take it yet. „And?“

„Said she wanted to give you the choice.“

Vyn was made to pause yet again, longer this time. Finally, a nod. „'Course she did.“
He handed it over carefully. She took it with both hands. „It's good work.“

„Yup. And no story water tied to it this time either.“

That earned him a snort. „Shut up!“

„I'm just sayin'.“


*​


Vyn had seen a lot of people come and go. The ones who came back, pretending nothing happened – those were the ones worth watching over.

She found Dove by the third drying line, sorting through some plant stuff with delicate hands. She looked tired, but less likely to bolt from the sight of her. Progress. Vyn wouldn't say anything at first. Just closed the distance and made herself near enough to talk, far enough to make a safe escape. She held up the flowers, still not speaking. Smiling instead.

„Pretty.“ A small break before she continued. „You don't owe me anything. You know that, right?“ It wasn't a question. Merely a fact wrongly wrapped.

Leaned back to rest against the Wagon. „If you're doing something, maybe I could help.“ A shrug. „Or maybe I just get to sit here like a lazy cat.“

And finally:

„Or you could tell me what that one's for.“ Pointing to a plant she couldn't recognize, having difficulty hiding the laugh from her voice. „And whether it cures stew ruined pride.“
 
Anxiety clawed at her, as it did.

The problem with being isolated in the fashions that she did, is that she never learned ways to sustain outside of the elements that kept her alive- which right now, was the wagon. Most people would've left. Dove- however, couldn't. She didn't know how. And her awareness of that- then suddenly- the familiar rough edges of Vyn's voice reached her ear. And one could've sworn that her heart nearly stopped, her hands holding the herbs with such a visceral grip, one could smell the oils seeping from her hands.

Mentally, she was locking down. Taking very deep breathes, trying to stabilize the trembling. She turned her head to Vyn. Her face stoic. Her eyes giving her away.

Her tone is controlled. "It.. I.. I know I don't owe you anything." She paused. "B.. But.. I.. I shared.. a pain, and a hate- that you did not deserve. And- I.. It goes against who I am to let it persist or to give it without consent." she explained. "... I.. am glad you like them." There is a slight flush that covers her face.

She turns her head back to the herbs. "That- that is valerian." she explained. "It is a herb to help sooth and sedate. I make sleeping medicine with it." she mumbled. She looked to another herb. "And that- that is feverfew. For when those flus come through.." she added.

After a moment, she patted the ground next to her. A subtle invitation.
 
Didn't tease even though there was plenty room. Nodded along slowly, rhythm of her heartbeat. Sat beside Dove, quiet very opposite to the camp's noisy nature. Her coat made noise as she settled in, boots crossed at the ankle. Arms around her knees.

„Everyone says stuff they don't mean.“ Looked curiously to the herbs. „Every now and again.“

She reached forward into the pile and carefully plucked a piece of valerian she'd just learned about, her other hand still still curled protectively around the flowers she got. „So you are trying to knock me out.“ Sprig turning gently between her fingers. „Should've guessed you'd be the reason half the camp finally gets some sleep.“ She wouldn't rush. A constant dance of words, those serious and those less so.

„Thank you. For the flowers. For coming back.“ And she'd spare her a quick look. Wouldn't linger.

„Tell me more about the flus. We've got Road ahead, and I'd rather not snot my way into legend.“
 
"N.. no. Not.. unless you want me to. But if that was the case- I would probably take a different approach." the bird squeaked, the anxiety dying, slowing being reborn into little sparks of hope. Flickering embers of optimism. It danced in her eyes as she turned her head to look at Vyn- a little too distracted to catch the joke. It flew right over her flighty little head.

".. I. I'm glad you like them." She watched Vyn's protective curl around the fingers. Each flower was plucked carefully with a message. She didn't need words. And neither did Vyn it seemed. The blossom of understanding was bright. ".. I know.. how to dry them. In books. So you can keep them forever- if you want." she offered. And then, another offer. "Or- maybe.. you can join me the next time I go find herbs. I always know where to find the best flowers. Maybe you can use them to woo someone one day." A bad joke. But look. She tried.

Her hands tapped uncontrollably against her lap. So much energy that was bottled and held, in her body. So many unprocessed emotions, coming out through the most subtle of movements. It's a good thing the deva didn't share Vyn's talents. She was an open book right now.

But in a way- Vyn didn't really need to be either.

".. w.. well you see.." She pulled each herb out that addressed it. "I.. have found that a- a strong body will have no issues fighting off s.. sickness. So- I.. I thought about taking some of these herbs.." She points to a small pile, which included bits of brightly colored plants, some strange mushrooms, and other anomalies. "Since.. everyone seems fond of my sugary treats- I was going ti incorporate these into those mixtures- and give them out. That- that should keep everyone ready for the road. Especially the children, and the elderly." Dove explained.

".. A.. after all, th.. this is home so, I.. I need to do my part to take care of it.. right?" she said weakly.
 
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