In search of... (part 2)

[bitterguardian]

After years of living in his subterranean home around the vault, Horvath is unused to being woken by sunlight. To fall asleep comfortably sunk deep in a plush chair is familiar, but the chair is not his own, and to wake with a cat sleeping on him, and another running around playing is familiar, but these are not his cats and there are more than two. Also he rarely has the foresight to pull a blanket over himself. To feel so much at home in a place that is not his home comes as a strange surprise.

Last night before he dozed off in the chair, however, he had a great deal of food and alcohol, and his body would urgently like to remind him of that fact. He's grateful for the new set of crutches in easy reach, and he hauls himself up on them and swings along off to the bathroom, letting the cats scatter in his wake.

Once he's tended to the basics, and ascertained that while he is hung over, it's not a bad one, he notices the note from his host conveniently stabbed through on a prong of the antlers around the bathroom mirror. She had some foresight, indeed.

Bonjour Max! I hope that your sleep was a deep, healing one and that you woke to a better day! I had an errand to run early this morn, and might not make it back in time to be there when you wake. So! There is food, coffee, tea - and I shall return with fresh eggs for breakfast if you sleep so long.
Mara

The towels from yesterday have been replaced with clean ones, his clothes are washed and mended on the bed, and there's the salve still waiting back on the footstool beside the chair in which he slept. Thanks to the ambient light of day waking him, it's not late by any means, so he takes time to wash, to put salve and a bandage over the blistered stump of his leg, and to dress in his own clothes once more. When he emerges to investigate the kitchen, Horvath feels more like himself than he has since his encounter with Shub niggurath sent him questing. Pantleg folded up and tucked neatly (a trick he learned back in the army hospital when he was first learning to adapt to the amputation), moving faster on the new crutches than he can with a cane, he murmurs to the cats, and seeks out a cup of tea to help drive away the vestiges of a headache that's not strong enough to dampen a good mood.

Comments

[bitterguardian]

"Outdoors used to be where most of life took place. For most of my life I thought nothing of camping like this... or with virtually no supplies at all. And look at me now..." He sighs and rests a hand on his stomach briefly, then sips his tea. "Holing up in the city, I've gone too soft. I can't sleep one night on the ground without waking up sore." He's a little bitter, but also resigned. "Yes, do prod at me? I need a good shaking. Getting out like this more often would do me good, and I just may be quick to fall back into my books and couches without a proper stick and carrot." He is enjoying being out here, he's just afraid he'll forget that, later.

He enjoys the breakfast, hungry after yesterday's hike, but he'll be first to move to clean up after, too.

[sunandshadows]

"If I, with all my culinary skills, with all that magic that goes into my meals - if I cannot be the carrot to your stick of self-will? I fear there be no hope for me at all."

"Indeed" She continued, after sipping the last of her tea. "If I cannot tempt you with word or with deed, with laughter and song, or my kiss on your cheek? If I cannot wile you away, for a night or a day? I fear there be no hope for me at all, and I should wither away like a leaf upon a broken stem. Sad. Sorrowful, and alone."

"For what is a fairy song, with no mortal to beguile? Would it sound so sweet with none to hear the call?"

She stands then, starts collecting the few things that need to be washed. "Perhaps then, I should make gifts of reminders to you, and present them like pearls on a string. A song one day, a package of pastries on another, a third gift my whisper in your ear that the autumn apples taste the sweetest when plucked ripe off a tree? Would that then be proper appeal to your wilder nature to come out, to come sing and play?"

And as she is speaking she's skipping about the campsite, helping him to finish cleaning, and bring the land back to it's natural state.

"We are ready I think, and the day is bright and clear. We should make it to our destination in only a few hours of walking, which leaves you plenty of time for all that you would choose to do then." Mara's eyes soften as her frolicing brings her within arm's reach of the warrior-turned-scholar.

"If you trust not your self, knowing your dour aspects, trust in me that I shall not allow myself - or at least my cooking - to be forgotten!" She reaches up to caress a bearded cheek and press herself to him in a quick, impulsive hug.

"And if all else fails, I shall tell this Belshazar of yours what good time we had together, and how you bloomed under light of sun and moon, and forest air. With him at my side to convince you? I think you would not fall back to your couch too quickly!"

[bitterguardian]

Horvath is slower to his feet than she is, levering himself up with the aid of the cane, but he's less sore and stiff going about it than he was when first they met. She's still gotten more of the chores cleaning up than he'd like, but he pulls on his pack and brushes himself off, ready for travel at roughly the same time she is.

"I'm afraid your culinary skills will only make me softer." He smirks a little, and puts an arm around her to squeeze her gently against his side, returning the hug. It's a practical demonstration, in its way, but there's a solidity under the softness. He's no cream puff, even if he thinks he is, stronger than he looks. He's a warrior still whenever the need arises. "But you know you have me wrapped up in your enchantments already. You're welcome to come visit any time to renew the spell." His smile is genuine, if a little teasing. "I'll adjust the wards for you, and then you can come and go as easily as he can, and both pull me aboveground for some fresh air."

Well rested and in bright spirits, he'll walk as easily today as he did yesterday, the rocking limp showing energy and little sign of discomfort.

[sunandshadows]

"Oh non mon chere, my skills will make you strong, not soft. The blood will course though your veins at sound and scent and sight of what I create for you, and you'll not find rest within thy breast until you come out from underground, come out to feast and play with fairy maids!"

His arm is tight about her, and she in return tightens her hug as well. "If there be enchantments in the air, sorcerer; I think perhaps that you overvalue my finger-wrapping skills, and undervalue your own. But come now, we can speak of this and more, later. Another time, perhaps. Come, come the day will not wait for us!"

They only stopped to rest once, or was it twice? Both times felt left like taking a break, and more like simply standing or sitting to continue some conversation or another. A question of food tastes and styles came up, and that keeps her cupped, and in the here-and-now for a while as recipes are bandied about, and flavors, even textures are spoken of. And then she is back to her reveling, pausing to climb trees and swing on branches as they journey.

"Can you smell it, seeker? It is a bit delicate, the smell lighter than the leaves we crush beneath our feet, and the nuts that fall from the trees. We are close, and getting closer."

"Indeed!" She calls out to him, a few minutes later. "We are not close, we have arrived!"

[bitterguardian]

He tolerates her mode of travel as well as ever, keeping up his slow and steady pace while she flits around through trees, but he's glad for the conversation too, when she keeps closer beside him. He's not the gourmet chef she is, and she may be quick to pick up that he's a meat-and-potatoes sort by default. That should come as no surprise, with his hearty build and his origins in simpler times. He's not picky though, and has experienced a wide array of dishes from various cultures in his travels.

When she asks if he can scent the aglaophotis nearby, though, he gives a mild shake of his head. "I'm afraid I don't share your senses, love..." He comes to a quick halt when she says they've arrived, afraid of stepping on the subject of his quest by sheer accident.

[sunandshadows]

Its a bush on the smaller side, just coming up to her waist and as wide around as both their arms spread out. There are small shoots coming up out of the ground around it - it is simply a very slow growing plant. There is nothing to show that it's such a rare find - no grove of green surrounds it. Just a few trees, far enough apart to let in the light. The flowers are almost gone, the leaves themselves starting to turn red in the early autumn sun.

"Do you need root or bark, bud or leaf, seeker?" Mara asks as she shrugs off her pack, dropping it near one of the tall trees. "And too, I can fetch you other things from the forest. More fresh water, should you need it: or start a fire for you if you are to be busy for a while."

[bitterguardian]

How slowly it grows is just a part of what makes it so rare, and he still approaches with care, watching to make sure he doesn't tread on any stray roots or new offshoots. "Any part will do. Could you help me harvest it gently? I want to make sure I don't damage the whole plant..." He's only seen this alive and growing a few times, even in his long life. More often when he's comes across it as a spell ingredient it was already bottled or distilled, far removed from the original living plant.

Horvath levers himself down on one knee with a grunt, unslings his pack, and rummages for the thermos he brought to put it in. "It's rare enough sorcerers have learned to make a little go a long ways... but fresh and growing like this, it ought to be more potent..." There's more than one purification ritual he could use, in fact, and he'd intended to adapt his needs to what he could get.

[sunandshadows]

"Of course I can help you!" She tilts her head and gives him a strange look, one eyebrow raised. "Do you want the plant to give you branches, or perhaps a living root to grow your own?"

She goes around the other side, and comes back shortly with a handful of fresh branch pieces taken from all over the bush, piece of root, and a single, longer branch with several flowers still in the bud. It's quite unusual, but not unheard of this time of year.

"This is for you, Maxim, a parting gift." She smiles widely at him, holding the rare, red flowers out to him. But she's not looking directly at him, not any more. Her eyes slide away from his face, she can't disguise the sudden melancholy she feels at their parting, so she will simply avoid letting him see it altogether.

[bitterguardian]

"Oh, goodness..." He's caught in the act of pulling out a small penknife, but before the blade ever touches the plant he pauses. It's the crutches that come to mind, those works of once-living art that he's a little sorry to leave behind, even as much as he dislikes needing crutches in the first place. He wasn't witness to her shaping and growing those, but he has a fairly good guess that's precisely what she did. He was trained, in his youth, about working magic on plants, coaxing unusual growth or otherwise manipulating them, but never to such an artful degree. Horvath's best skills have always been with more inert matter, or raw forces of energy. Living things of any kind are not his strength.

"I... but I live underground..." His protest is quiet, overwhelmed. A new plant, a fresh propagation of aglaophotis when it's so rare and so needed, is not something to be turned down. The contrast between them strikes him hard, though, as he thinks of his cold dark underground lair, while watching this half-wild girl of sun and wind holding a living plant in her hands. "A new plant... would mean more than I can say, but how would it fare in the city, miles underground and away from any light but reading lamps?" Tenderly he reaches out to stroke one leaf with a finger, reverently, then lifts his hand to repeat the gesture against her cheek. They're equally beautiful and awe-inspiring gifts of nature, in his mind. Perhaps her melancholy is contagious, judging from the tone of his voice.

"Would it... survive at the home you took me to, do you think? I know it's often empty but for the cats, but... I can't take a living plant down to the tunnels under Brooklyn. I'd kill it. I couldn't bear that..."

[sunandshadows]

She holds the branch out to him, happy to help, happy that the plant had agreed, had offered when she asked. And happy that she could assist it, so that it did not have to struggle to pull forth new buds. Instead she called upon the magic in her blood to strengthen, and to aid in drawing forth new growth and life. Come next year after the winter rest and spring thaw, Max might be surprised if he ever came this way again.

It is, after all, how she got him those crutches. She had asked the tree, and then aided it in growing what she needed and how she needed it. It was only after she had received it's gift that she could no longer manipulate the crutches - the wood once separated from the branch had to be physically cut down and sanded to the right size, because she got his height wrong.

The plant she offers him is not very big, all things considered. Perhaps 20 centimeters overall. And a good deal of that is now covered in new buds of red with tiny golden stamens hidden deep within each tightly packed ball of petals. But of itself it is a living thing, not a piece of branch or leaf. This held promise and would grow into new life.

So she holds it out and smiles, but her smile begins to falter as what he says comes through the slight golden haze in her mind, the result of being more in tune with plant than animal - or human - life. He, he doesn't want it? He doesn't - what? But... but.

Mara watches his fingers as they stroke the leaf of the flower in her hand, watches as those same fingers reach up to stroke her cheek as a tear begins to trail from her eyes down to meet his hand. It helps to pull her out of her haze, his touch does. Back to the here. Back to the now.

"Of course you are right, Maximus." She tries to smile, it comes out crooked and apologetic.

Of course he is right. She had never thought ahead, she had gotten caught up in the now. He needed, she could help, the plant agreed. She never thought to think that he would not - or in this case could not - accept her gift. And she could not allow such a precious offering by the Aglaophotis to end up wasting away, far from the sun's light and nature's blessings.

Another tear starts to fall, but she rubs it away with the back of her hand, and her attempt to smile is a little less forced. "I shall grow it in my garden. In the sun, on the land. Yet another pearl on the strand to tempt you from your couch, and shadowed underground."

And with that, she lifts the branch to her lips, kisses the closest flower, and tucks it in between her ear and head, where it's held there by the weight of her hair.

"Come come, the day just wastes away as we two stand here and the earth moves beneath us." It's her game face she puts on now, but the more she speaks, the easier it is to start pulling herself out of her melancholy. Fairy's were not meant for sadness, after all.

"What else can I do to help, seeker? And more importantly, how can I too use this to aid others who were harmed by things out of time and place?"

[bitterguardian]

"Oh-!" She's crying. Just a few tears, but he's looking right at her, so he can hardly miss it. The night before last she cried, and that was awkward enough, but this time he's fairly sure it's his fault, and that makes it ten times worse. He's still floundering, guilt etched deep all over his face, as she pulls herself together and suggests moving on to the work at hand.

"I didn't mean-! Please don't cry? It's a remarkable gift, I'm only sorry I'm not worthy of it..." Now that the barrier has been breached, he's quicker to offer a warm hug, face full of apology.

"But... yes... I did mean to teach you how to make use of it. And having one more plant growing in the world does an immense amount of good. It's ever in short supply, and sadly there's always a need, in the world..." When he does let go of her, gently, he puts away his dropped penknife, and then pulls a very thick book out of midair with a strangely casual gesture. Perhaps she's not the only one who still has a few odd surprises up her sleeve. "There's not just one ritual or spell for it, but many... and they're hardly restricted to Merlinians alone."

[sunandshadows]

She's hugging him tight, with her arms up around her neck when she hears his apology. Mara sniffs, then starts to giggle. "Silly man, did you think I offered alone? I worked in concert with another. And if you are not worthy of this, then you are worthy of something at least equally precious."

He was such a combination of warm strength and comfort, of tremendous knowledge and wisdom coupled with a rare humility and self-depreciation. Mara tiled her head back and looked up to his face. "However, you are correct in one thing. This will not grow well, nor happy so far from the fresh air, so far from the light. So I shall be guardian of your gift, until such time as you have need of more. Is this fair to you?" Her smile is still tentative, but at least this time it's real.

Her smile widens, and so does her eyes when he makes a book appear out of thin air. "Ooohhh!" He can do that?

"I'd not ask you for the secrets you are bound to, that is not my way. But if you have knowledge to share, that I will happily learn, mon ami."

[bitterguardian]

Having the hug returned is reassuring, and from her reply, he starts to hope perhaps he hasn't mucked things up. Much of his humility comes from a deep-seated lack of confidence in himself, although it's something he's good at covering up on the surface, with anyone he doesn't trust. He's good at looking confident, most of the time, but she's caught him with his barriers low, and quickly worked her way past them. He gives a little squeeze before he lets go, but her reassurance has eased his worry some.

"There's more secrecy about some parts than others..." He opens the book apparently at random, squints briefly, and has to find his reading glasses in a pocket. The page it's fallen open to shows three riders on horseback, facing off against a mass of monsters and a sorceress. The book sits open on his knee while he finds his glasses. "Cleansing and healing rituals are some of the least secret. The world can always use a few more healers, so that sort of knowledge is best spread around."

[sunandshadows]

"But of course" There will always be secrets, always things to guard and protect - even from those who may be allies, friends. Lovers. She looks down at the page curiously, and her eyes pass over the picture, but are immediately drawn to the writing. It's old style, and in another language.

German perhaps? She immediately starts turning some of the 'f's into 's's, but then stops. Her eyes glance back up at the drawing once more. Slowly she tilts her head as she stares at the picture, at each individualized portrait - the three riding horses and the woman who they ride against. There is a slow blink, and then another as she raises her eyes up to the man next to her, and Mara recalls, oh so vividly what Maxim looks like in the astral.

"You look good with long hair." Is her only comment, as she looks down to study the picture once more. That then, must be the lady he spoke of, when he told his tale the a few days ago. And that? That must be Maxim's Belshazar. And that must be the Morganian - or is it the original Morgana?

And yes, she knows well the name he goes by now, but looking at the drawing? Belshazar seemed to fit. Although if she ever met the man, she'd call him whatever he wished, of course. Manners you know.

"I have some knowledge of the healing craft" She shrugs, downplaying her learning. "But that is for what pertains in this realm. What you seek to purify yourself from?
Comes from another."

[bitterguardian]

The rider in the portrait carries the greater width of his bulk across the chest and shoulders, instead of in his belly, but the beard isn't so different, the nose is impossible to mistake for another, and it's not so hard to imagine that the slightly unruly dark curls he has now would turn to rippling waves if he grew them out long again. "Hmm? Oh..." He glances down again, reading glasses on now, and pauses to study the old portrait with a mildly wistful expression. "I suppose I was hoping it made my face look thinner..." His gaze lingers over Veronica and Balthazar- ne, Belshazzar, riding closer together even in that illustration. The way Veronica is waving around a sword speaks volumes, that she was no wilting flower, but a fighter equal to her fellow apprentices. The way Horvath appears to be casually spearing some kind of dragon or wyrm without even looking is more than a little dashingly heroic, but he's unlikely to see it that way himself. His fingers stroke the page, once, then he sighs and begins to flip through to the section on purification rituals.

"Eldritch things aren't much discussed in the Encantus, but sometimes other sorcerers do summon things from Beyond without fully understanding what they're doing, and I've had to clean up the mess more than once. Knowing how to recover oneself and anyone else affected is important, because there's always some sort of fallout." The pages he settles on show a few illustrations of the very plant before them, with more detailed uses for the raw woody stems, as well as instructions on making potent distillations that are easier to keep and carry long-term.

[sunandshadows]

"I think that, perhaps those that taught me, taught me of the natural world around us. There was no sorcerous influence, no summonings involved. It was" She tries to find the words, but something distracts her, something tickles in the back of her head and she giggles, reaching back to scratch. And she finds another peony bud blooming out through her hair, the branch growing slowly and twisting under her hair toward the other ear.

"It was nature, of this world's hurts and ills? Umm" She can't think of the right words so she simply drops it, hoping that Horvath understands. She looks down at the page and nods. "Decoctions, infusions oh my!"

[bitterguardian]

"Mmm. I suppose Merlin didn't teach me much about eldritch things... I've sometimes had to pick things up along the way in a hurry. Morganians so often make a mess that somebody else needs to clean up after..." That somebody, historically speaking, has often been him.

"Yes, I was planning to distill and preserve what I do take home with me. It will last far longer, that way. But... here and now, I suppose a ritual with the raw elements might be more effective. To be honest, I've never had the opportunity to try it that way..." His hand runs over the page as he thinks. "There's always tinctures for bathing in, or mixing with oil to anoint oneself, or the powder can be mixed with other ingredients and burned, for a cleansing smoke..."

[sunandshadows]

"If preserved pieces do wonders for this, the raw will be that much more potent, oui? So would you need only to boil it in water, and drink it as tea?" She is trying to figure out how he wants to go about his purification ritual. Is it something he must do alone? Easy enough for her to flit off into the forests, that he may wash down with a tea made of roots and bark.

"Would you wish to wear it, smoke it, or drink it tonight?"

[bitterguardian]

"I suppose-" Horvath pauses, blinks at her, then lets out one of those little wheezy chuckles that seem to involve his entire body. "That could be taken the wrong way, you know. Keep those flowers in your hair and talk like that, and somebody's going to take you for a hippie." He tweaks a lock of her hair, careful not to disturb the flowers.

"A tea is an excellent idea, though, and it will be more potent, so fresh." He feels no great need of privacy for that, as he would if he were planning some kind of bath or oil.

[sunandshadows]

"Taken wrongly?" She blinks at him, her head tilted to the side and her eyes not-understanding at first. Mara thinks, looks down at the ground and her bared feet and then back up toward his smile, the sudden grin of knowledge bright on her face.

"An' who do you think they got the idea from in the first place, these flower children who ran barefoot and adorned? With their hedonistic ways, and their love of peace? Good Merlinian, tell me that you don't recognize at least a bit of shining hand in this?"

"Or then, it could have been as simple as a moonlight stroll and mushroom circle, and pixie dust beneath the moon that captured those few in the beginning, and so caught the passions of a generation."

Spinning away, she leans away in the sunlight, just out of his reach and holds out a hand as she winks and beckons to him. "Oh come you away human lord, to the fields and the fjords, with a fairy go in hand, for the world's more full of pleasures than e'en you may understand!'

And with a giggle she is off and away, off to gather up wood for a small fire for the sorcerer's tea.

[bitterguardian]

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.

[sunandshadows]

"Oak, good and strong. White pine, cleansing, oh yes. Good, good. And Birch as well? Thank you Birch" She whispers as she picks up sticks off the ground, looking at the bark on each one before choosing to keep or drop them back on the forest floor. Words, lessons she's learned, that she mixes with a soft humming noise. There are specific branches that she is looking for, specific varieties that she wants. Not just to create a fire, but the type of woods that would work best in a cleansing ritual.

"Here you are seeker!" Her arms are full of twigs, small and larger branches, and she nods in approval at the site he's chosen to build the fire. Crouching down, she starts breaking the larger ones down into the size to fuel a small fire.

"Tell me, if you can; when you leave to your nexus? And will there be a door that opens here, showing stars beyond? Or mist that rises, or swirling lights that bloom? Will you take a step to the right, and be gone from my sight? How does one come and go from your nexus?" She is very proud of herself, she thinks she sounds casual, just curious. And where and how may we meet again, if that is what you still desire?"

[bitterguardian]

"Oh, goodness... that's perfect." He can appreciate her choices of fuel, recognizing them for the same properties for which she chose them. While she sets up the fire, he pulls out kettle and canteens, preparing to run a quick purifying spell on the water even before he heats it for tea. "Well, from here, I'd intended to first go straight home. But now that I've been there and know my way back, there are two methods to reach it. There's always the PINpoints- little electronic devices that allow teleportation between coordinates. I didn't bring it with me, on this journey. It seemed too much like... cheating, if that makes any sense? But travel using them, first you're simply one place, then you're somewhere else. It's a bit disorienting. Not everyone can do magic, though. They're very useful." He's comfortable using his now, but it took a while to get used to.

"To get from here to home, the way sorcerers usually travel, is more like what you're probably used to. It's closer to opening a gate... except that you pull the gate around you, like a cloak... mm. It's a very small fold in space, designed to quickly self-correct. I'm not sure how to describe what it looks like... a brief rippling opening from one place into another." She'll get to see that, when he does go. "I can get anywhere I've been, so long as I've marked it well enough in my mind. I'd thought... perhaps I could come for you at the house you took me to?" He's certainly memorized the place well enough to return to it.

[sunandshadows]

Nod, nod. "A quest, a real quest? Involves a journey, not simply the destination. Growth of mind, or soul, or heart. A machine to bring you here and back teaches you nothing. Gives you nothing but ingredients."

Softer, she continues, "I am honored to have been part of your quest, Maximus, Merlinian and friend. Thank you."

Mara starts setting the wood down, creating a small pyramid with the smaller twigs and bark, even dried grasses on the inside. And the larger sticks and twigs on the outside. She's doing it very carefully. If the fire catches right, first these twigs and this bark will go up. That will catch these branches over here. And then soon, the whole thing with fall, the east branches to the west, the north ones to the south. It will fall upon a bed of already made hot coals, and be ready for a small pot of water to go right on top.

"But I think that soon, we must part." She's biting her lower lip, concentrating on those last few sticks that she's setting up. A few of the longer, autumn-dried pieces of grass get woven through to provide just a bit more stability in case the wind comes up.

"And oui, mon ami, come for me when you can to my other home. Leave you a message on the door, if I am not there. I shall find it and be ready by the time you return, before another day passes." Her eyes look up from her project, and find his.

"But I think that the time draws close when we should part. You started this on your own, it is only right that you finish it in sacred solitude and introspection. I - my nature - cannot make me naught but a distraction now."

"This is your journey and your quest, ma chere, I needs must let you complete it." There is a hitch in her voice, and a suspicious shine to her eyes though her smile is real. The red peonies have circled around the back of her head now and have wound delicately over her brow; blooming flowers causing a living coronet.

She stands, then, wiping her hands on her shift. "Maxim, I must go."

[bitterguardian]

He could help her build the little pyre, that will soon help brew his tea. The way her hands work the twigs and grasses together is strangely mesmerizing, though, and he finds himself simply watching, meditative, but listening. Their parting is close at hand, and now that he's paying attention he can hear the little catches in her voice, detect all the little signs that she's struggling with the upcoming goodbye. He's had so many goodbyes in his life, and this one he firmly intends to be temporary, so what's one more? He listens to her talk, and says nothing, but swallows, once. Shutting down, going still and quiet, is always easier than some emotional display.

When she stands, he realizes his face is probably set in stone, a careful blank, and she deserves so much better than that. Once again, she's on her feet, and he's sitting on the ground, and he's sure he couldn't get up fast enough to reach her if she decided to whirl away and go, now. Instead he forces himself to look up, composed but quietly pained, and if any distress in his eyes gives her pause, it's not really intentional on his part. "You've been the most important part of it. Please... 'Mara..." What to say? Not goodbye. He's had far too many. If each goodbye were a pebble, he's standing on a mountain of them. "Plant that for me? I'll be back in a few days to check up on it..." His smile is a struggle, and he's sure the offhanded words are inadequate, but perhaps she'll see past them. He only hopes she knows him well enough for that.