Date: 2015-04-01 08:22 pm (UTC)
bitterguardian: (glasses shadows)
For just a moment, watching her dancing just out of reach, he remembers again all the warnings of his youth. She is, at times, every inch the capricious, enticing, unknowable sort of being even his old master described the fae as. It makes him value the moments she's touchable and deeply human all the more, but kneeling on the ground, open Encantus on his knee, he suffers a flickering pang of longing to leap up and follow that he knows his body cannot obey. If there is any external sign of this, it's just a slight twitch in his smile, then she's off and away, and the instant he sees her picking up firewood he's reminded of the work at hand.

A tea, to remove any last lingering trace of that... thing's touch, which might sully his own magic in the future. Shub Nigrauth's attempts at forbidding prophecy, the cloying voice and soul-sickening temptations, all have faded and been washed away in the healing touch of Mara's sanctuary home. Something there has done him more good than any simple herb ever could, but there remains this last act to make sure he's free of the detritus of his eldritch encounter.

While she's gathering, he leaves his book and levers himself to his feet, clearing a space a safe distance away for the fire. He couldn't bear to risk so much as wilting the petals of the living plant with the nearby heat. The other pieces of the plant she's collected for him, he seals carefully in the thermos, saving a little bark and vine for brewing.
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Maxim Horvath

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