A Hunt for Tansy (open)

Ellaira lay on her bed, restless and awake. It was still dark in her room in the home she shared. Her housemate snored in the other room, the sound muffled but still certainly audible. With a sigh, Ellaira folded over her sheets and slid out of bed. Her bare feet touched the floor softly, the stone cool on her soles. Quietly, Ellaira shook out the shirt and pants folded on her chest of clothes, letting the crumbled herbs fall to the floor.

She dressed quickly and in near-silence, lacing her shirt in the near-dark with practiced fingers. It was early, even for her, but long turns of practice had given her the ability to get dressed in just about any circumstance with very little difficulty. Ellaira braided her hair rapidly, pulling the leather thong out of her bowl of wash-water to wrap around with deft fingers. It wasn't until she splashed the water on her face that she heard her daughter stir.

"Mommy..." Morallina's voice was weary and tremulous. Usually the girl slept solidly, but of late she had been easy to rouse. Ellaira stifled a sigh of regret at waking the girl - she did love her daughter, but motherhood had never been her great pleasure - and turned to crouch next to the trundle-bed she slept on. The woman gently smoothed the sheets over the little girl.

"Shh, there there. Go back to bed," Ellaira said gently. She brushed some hair out of the girl's face and softly stroked her cheek. "It's still nighttime." The girl murmured and shifted before sleep reclaimed her. Ellaira rose and carefully slipped out the door, into the predawn light. She grunted and stretched, before walking towards the woods. The poisoning of the Weyrleader - followed by the acting Weyrleader's proclamation of death for the perpetrator - had shaken the Weyr, and deeply. It was even claiming hours of Ellaira's sleep, on her day off.

She didn't really have a plan for walking, other than to clear her head, but by the time she had gotten to the forest's edge - just as the dawning light was rousing the birds into territorial chorusing song - she had one. Tansy had been the poison, and if the poisoner was anything other than blitheringly daft, he (or she) would not have taken tansy either from the healer's stores, where they might be seen and remembered, or from any garden. And though the likelihood of her finding a patch of tansy with recently-cut sprigs was vanishingly small, it gave her something to do.

Walk, and look.

Besides, Ellaira thought as she started strolling through the woods, looking for clearings where she might find the distinctive plant. It was spring, so it would be blooming, and easy to find. I might find some pretty blossoms to bring back for the table. Faranth knows Morallina asks for them enough...

"Early t'be takin' walks, isn' it?"

The broznerider's steady drawl broke through the wood before he stepped into the woman's view. He'd wanted to stay hidden, but given the agitation in the weyr, lurking about was probably the worst thing you could do. But then, walking around in the woods by one's self at night was probably a stupid idea, too. And here he was, unable to sleep and wandering around at all hours trying to clear his head and convince himself that sleeping was a good idea and he should do it.

It wasn't working. He'd been awake most of the night and it showed. His rugged face looked exhausted. but he kept his gaze steady and folded his arms over his chest. He kept a polite distance, careful to appear harmless and at ease. No threat here! Just a man that couldn't sleep and was... following... women in the wods... Okay, so maybe a bit of a threat. Or at least creepy.

His expression softened just slightly and he inclined his head. "You alright', ma'am?" He glanced past her to the direction she'd come from then back to her face, concern wrinkling his brow. He wasn't sure how badly it had gotten around the weyr for women, but he was wary and concerned none the less. There were disadvantages to being so reclusive.

Ellaira started visibly when the bronzerider spoke, jerking her head up and leaping backwards, her eyes wide with surprise and wariness. She pinned the man with her gaze almost immediately, her ability to pinpoint sounds not failing her, even on little sleep. Her shock at seeing someone else awake at this hour - and her sudden realization of just how vulnerable she was, alone in the woods, with no one knowing where she was - were clearly visible as the emotions worked across his face.

"I couldn't sleep," she said, her voice carrying a note of suspicion. Mentally, she reached for Warbler, trying to awaken the blue fire-lizard with her worry and unspoken fear. It worked: within moments, the creature had appeared over her head, spiraling down with a growling hiss to land on her shoulder. Ellaira saw the man's face soften, and his words gentle, but she still remained wary.

"It probably sounds stupid, but... I came out here to look for tansy. See if I could find where it came from, maybe, and if something got left behind." Ellaira shrugged, as if it was of little concern to her; Warbler rode her shoulder with silent aplomb. "I don't suppose you know where any major clearing are out here, do you?"

The man's eyes moved to the fire lizard and he took a polite step back, well aware of the fact that he wasn't a friendly looking individual. His eyes moved back down the path she'd come, wary of someone following her and assuming he was doing impolite things. He frowned, but kept his distance.

"Tansy?" He didn't frequent the words and had to pause and think about it before he answered. His head tilted to the side and he scratched his beard, frown worrying at his lips. "I think there was a clearing up that way 'bout half a dragonlength or so." He pointed, otherwise unmoving. "I could show ya, if'n you'd like."

Ellaira relaxed when the man stepped backwards, recognizing the motion for what it was, a polite respect for her person. She lifted a hand to Warbler, soothing him with a murmur. The blue fire-lizard yawned and gave B'run a view of his tiny razor teeth, before sprawling across Ellaira's shoulder as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Thank you," the woman said with a hesitant smile. "I would appreciate that." She hesitated, then added, "Truth be told... I would appreciate the company as well. I didn't mean to be rude, I was just... surprised to find someone else out here. I'm Ellaira, one of the beastcrafters."

"B'run of bronze Olemuth." He replied after a short pause. He stepped onto the path and motioned for her to follow. He hadn't expected her to take him up on his offer and now that she had he was confused and unsure of how to proceed. Other than the obvious way, of course. So, that's just what he did.

He moved down the small foot path, dodging behind a tree and pushing aside brush to expose the little clearing. No doubt to an educated eye there were a variety of herbs waiting to be used. To B'run's there were only a lot of plants in varying stages of life. He stepped into the clearing, moving off to the side to give Ellaira room to move in without getting too close to him. He kept his gaze away from her, scanning the ground. It wasn't that he didn't stand proud, he kept his stance wide and  his chin tilted up, just kept his gaze steadily away from her.

"There's a couple others that aren't far away from ere if'n you want to see them, too."

A bronzerider--! Ellaira could feel her eyebrows raising in surprise, but the man had already turned onto the narrow footpath, clearly expecting her to follow. On her shoulder, Warbler trilled tiredly into her ear, a complaining out-of-tune series of melodramatic minor key notes. She winced as she followed B'run, her own footsteps soft as he pushed aside some brush to a small clearing.

Ellaira stepped past B'run into the dawning light pouring into the clearing. She blinked slightly, the difference in lighting so stark, even so early in the day. Slowly, she started stalking through the herbs and plants growing in the clearing, from brambles to grasses, placing her feet carefully. Warbler sighed and lay down on her shoulder, his little claws pricking her skin in delicate parallel to the thorns plucking at her legs.

"I would appreciate that," she said, crouching down to examine some crushed plants. It looked as if something had bedded down in the herbs, but there was no evidence of human activity. "It gives me something to do at least," Ellaira added, standing again to muffled protests from her fire-lizard. "If you don't mind, of course. I don't want to impose" She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the dewy plants arrayed around her. "Doesn't look like anyone's been here before us, though."

He watched her, head tilted to the side. His brow was wrinkled, a mixture of concern and wariness, though his eyes were as distant as ever. Women made him nervous. Not because he didn't like them or appreciate them, no. But because it had been a long damn time since he'd been around one. Especially alone. He scowled and ran a hand over his hair, exhaling slowly and glancing up to the sky.

"Right, right. Other clearing..." He waved her after him and tromped through brush in the direction he'd thought he'd seen one of the other clearings. Most of the brush was already tramped down from his earlier explorations, but dim light didn't help and he kicked more than one rock in the process of making his way through the trees.

Finally finding it, he ducked one branch and stepped over a fallen log, warning her of the step as he glanced back to make sure she heard... And catching his foot on another. He hit the ground at a roll, but that didn't stop him from catching his forehead on a limb and leaving a bloody scrape. Swearing, he rolled to his rump and touched a hand to his forehead and pulling it back to check. Yup blood. Yay.

"Clearings just there," he motioned, hauling himself up. "Watch your step." Bit belated. Better late than never!

Ellaira was tired, or else she might better have read B'run's body language as nervousness, rather than exhaustion and perhaps wariness. But she was tired, and deeply affected by the madness which had gripped the Weyr, and so she saw no reason not to tromp after him through the brush, with essentially no care for what happened to her clothing. It was too early for caring about clothing, and it wasn't like she was wearing delicate lovelies. Ignoring, of course, the fact that she had never owned anything which might be delegated to "delicate" or "lovelies", particularly as the combination seemed to indicate frilly lingerie.

Walking in the brush was hardly a new activity for the woman - after all, herding flocks of wherries and other birds was part of her job, though part which was all-the-more often delegated to youths as they started coming of age - and she stubbed her toes slightly less frequently than B'run. She started when B'run flipped into the clearing over a fallen log, stepping backwards automatically, her eyes wide.

When she saw the blood, she winced in sympathy. Carefully, she impressed the image of the cloth she had used to wash her face to Warbler - it would still be wet. The blue complained, but obeyed, jumping off her shoulder and winking between.

"Are you alright?" Ellaira asked, holding out her hand. A heartbeat later, Warbler appeared in the air, holding the cloth in all four feet and flapping wildly, barely managing to slow his fall. He dropped the cloth into Ellaira's hand with a screech, and winked between to go sulk. He didn't go far, landing in the tree over B'run and making a distressed nails-on-slate noise several times, until Ellaira looked up and frowned at him.

She stepped onto the first log, walked onto the second, and then dropped down to the ground with decent grace, crouching next to B'run. "Don't move," she commanded, reaching forward to clean the blood and dirt off of his forehead. "It's not that bad. Once I get the dirt out, you can hold this to the scrape until it stops bleeding. Shouldn't take long."

"Show off," he muttered, though there was no hostility in his voice. He shifted enough to stretch his legs out and look at his hand again, scowling at the bloodied skin. He flinched as Warbler began scolding him and he shot the flit a glare. "I didn't plan t'fall, you know."

"Yeh, yeh. I'm fine... Think it jus' scraped skin. I'll 'ave a headache fer a time, but it'll go away with enough bribery." He was a surprisingly patient man as she nursed his wound, tilting his head so she could see and folding his hands in his lap so they stayed out of the way.

When the cloth was released into his care and he held it to his face he studied her closely, taking advantage of her nearness to watch her. Some part of him knew he was working up a debt, but most of him simply didn't care. She was helping him and, currently, expecting nothing in return. It was a nice change.

"Thank you," he drawled, catching her arm before she could rise. He met her eyes, his gaze not lingering longer than was polite before he released her again and pushed himself up, peering at her with one eye, the other hidden by cloth and his hand. "Think it'll make me look rugged an' 'andsome?" Laugh at the situation. He sure as shells wasn't going to cry about it. "Sure could use the 'elp."

Ellaira laughed lightly, a pleasant, albeit tired sound. "I'm a beastcrafter and I grew up in the wilderness," she said by way of explanation, cleaning the dirt and blood off with gentle capability. "And you showed me where they were, after all." B'run was a much more pleasant patient than any animal she had ever tended. They had no way of knowing that she was trying to help them, not to hurt them further or eat them.

She rocked back, releasing the cloth to him. It was just a spare rag, once part of a pair of cloth pants, and she didn't regret the loss. Ellaira started to whistle to Warbler, to call him down, when she felt a strong hand on her arm. The sound died in her throat and she stared at him in surprise, dark eyes wide. But the feeling passed as swiftly as it had come as he released her and stood up.

"You're welcome," she said, a smile back on her face. Ellaira whistled to Warbler, who smooshed himself down on the branch and chattered complaints at her. The woman rolled her eyes and held her wrist up, as if summoning a hawk. "Rugged you have," Ellaira said with a wink. "But handsome? Hmmm..." Her voice was teasing, and she glanced up at the blue firelizard, who was making more complaining noises, slowly drooping off the branch. She didn't drop her wrist, instead giving the blue a mental prod.

"I'd always heard scars made a man dashing, but handsome, you've got to be born with." Her eyes danced as Warbler dripped entirely off the branch, flinging his wings out and falling in the awkward, see-saw fashion of a falling leaf. The blue dropped onto her wrist, flopping onto it like a wet wrag and moaning as if slain. "You," she said accusingly to the small creature, "are as dramatic as a queen."

"Dashin'? I'll take dashin'. Better'n ugly as a watch-wher. Sure as shells wasn' born 'andsome." He shrugged, stepping over the log that had fouled him and into the small clearing on the other side of it. He'd been so close! Stupid log. "Yer li'l guy's a talkative one, ain't he? Don't think I've been scolded like that since I was a kid." He glanced back at the blue, studying the flit as it flopped.

Apparently now that she'd tended his wound, he trusted her enough to talk and at least be slightly less aloof. He sidestepped so she could make her way into the small opening. He glanced at the rag, frustrated by the fact that he was still bleeding and pressed it back to his face. "This hurts more'n I remember scrapes hurtin'. Maybe it's jes' been a while since I've 'ad a headwound..." He grumbled, pressing it back to his head.

Ellaira opened her mouth to retort - after all, aside from exhaustion, untended hair growth, dirt, and blood - and rapidly decided it wasn't worth it. She didn't even know the man, and though she was a well-known flightmoth, she'd never run across him before. Instead, she commented on Warbler. "He's an amazing mimic and quite a talker, yes," she said, picking him up with two fingers and settling him on her shoulder. "I called him 'Warbler' for it - he's been like this since he hatched. I'm waiting to see when he learns to charm birds out of trees, the bloodthirsty little git."

The woman shook her head at the silliness of her fire-lizard, and stepped into the clearing. It was much like the last one, though a bit larger, and just as damp with dew. Ellaira put her hands on her hips and examined the clearing. The sky was lightening rapidly, and it was much easier to see, though she still would walk around the whole perimeter of the clearing. This is useless, she sighed mentally. But it was better than going mad in her home.

"Headwounds do bleed a lot," Ellaira replied, stepping out into the tall herbs and weeds of the clearing. She startled a tunnelsnake, which skittered off into the herbaceous growth. Warbler leaped off of her shoulder, leaving tiny scratches in her skin, and dove into the undergrowth with a shriek, tackling the tunnelsnake in the undergrowth for an invisible and brutally short battle. The firelizard cheeped, and Ellaira felt his pleasure and enjoyment of fresh food in the back of her mind. She kept walking her circuit slowly, looking for any indication of disturbances before her own two feet.

B'run was very good at being a social recluse. He rarely participated in flights, though when he did his Olemuth was usually too big and bulky to catch a green. His dragon's pestering had driven him to be more social as of late, however, which was one reason he'd approached Ellaira in the first place.

Stupid dragons knowing what was best for their riders...

B'run cast his gaze about, vision hindered by towel and blood. "Hrm... That there looks clipped." He motioned, hunkering down beside the indicated spot and peering closely. He wasn't even sure if it was tansy, but it had been cut, either way! He frowned at it, glancing up at her. "I was in minecrafting. I could tell you all 'bout rocks but not a damn thing 'bout wot grows on the other side o' 'em."

Ellaira, not seeing anything where she was - and not particularly desirous of encountering any other 'snakes that might be lurking in the tall weeds, made her way over to where B'run had crouched.

"You're right," she said, a bit of surprise in her voice - not that he had found something, per se, but that they had found anything at all. The woman frowned at the cut herbs. The entire bunch of plants had been sliced near the base, leaving only a few leaves shooting up from the root ball, and the damaged remains of the pithy stems. "I... didn't expect to find anything," she admitted, pulling out her belt-knife and carefully digging around the roots, loosening the plant from the soil.

"I'm only mildly informed of herb-lore, myself," Ellaira admitted, freeing one half of the root-ball and shifting to work on the other half. "But there's an herbalist in the Healer Hall I trust - her name's Lymsleia. A woman's specialist. Bit of a spitfire," she said, half laughing, "but I don't think she has a mean bone in her body. I bet she could identify this for us." The woman wiped her blade off on her pants, leaving a streak of muddy dirt on the cloth before sheathing it. She pursed her lips, then wiggled her hands down into the soil around the root ball, working the plant a little until it popped out of the ground.

"Happen to have a spare cloth or sommat? I should probably take this back to my home for the time being. My housemate is a fair hand at saving the lives of plants as have no right to keep on living."

"Huh? Oh. Righ', righ'. Yeh, hold on..."

He rummaged around, finally pulling a worn handkerchief from his belt and pass it over. It was clean, just stained and old. He shook it out and offered it to her. "That's prolly a better idea than usin' the one covered in blood." He pulled back his damp cloth and peered at it. His forehead was still bleeding, though not nearly as much as it had been and rapidly decreasing. He was thankful for that, he didn't want to waste the healer's time with a scrape. Better that it heal itself up. It didn't mean he wasn't impatient with it.

"Any idea what it is?" He was fairly certain it wasn't tansy, though it didn't look like any of the edible plants he knew of. Maybe it was just a bit of unimportant plant cropped low by... Something. Or maybe there'd been flowers there and some woman had cut them to take home to make her hut look prettier. Farranth knows his hut could use some flowers... Or that wasn't drab and dull. Colour would be nice. Maybe he'd see about a blanket or something.

He chased away stray thoughts and cupped his hands, cloth spread across them to accept the plant and wrapped it up as tidy as he could, holding the tiny packet out to her.