The young man was uncomfortable being here. He had thought he had gotten used to being so far from his sisters, that he preferred being alone in his own head. But after reconnecting... Being apart again was hard. Harder than he was willing to admit. And not being able to check on Evvi. To be so far from Discipline and he missed Rosethorn. And Lark. And... he'd never admit it, but even missed Dedicate Crane a little bit...
But he took solace in the plants. He had his miniature Shakkan tree with him, at least. He was wearing it in a sling over his back not unlike the one Evvi kept Luvo in. And he had his belt pockets loaded with seeds and seed balls.
He had been exploring this new place, gathering seeds and talking to the plants softly when they spoke to him of someone he needed to meet. Someone like him and Rosethorn but not. Someone whose magic made them grow and bloom even beyond his Sandry-enhanced abilities. Whoever this was, he had to meet her! So he followed the guidance of the plants to try and find her. HE was expecting some old lady, withered but with a spine of steel. So he almost walked right past Isabella and her snack until the plants stopped him. He turned back at looked at her in surprise.
Then mentally kicked himself. She looked as much like a Green Master as he did. In fact he still kept his Master's medal under his shirt because he was tired of people thinking he was still some street kid who knicked it. Never mind that his healing salves helped stop a plague. Never mind he was one of the three strongest plant masters at Winding Circle. Possible in all of Emelan.
No, all they saw was a kid in his late teens, a street kid from Stoat with the tell tale golden brown skin and black hair that flopped into his green eyes. Never mind that these days his hair was clean and flopped artfully rather than sloppily. Never mind that he was dressed comfortably sure but in fabric as nice as the richest bag ever wore, thanks to Sandry's deft hand with both a needle and her thread magic. They saw his bare feet as proof he was still a poor little nothing. They saw the dark circles under his eyes and presumed it was from drugs or all night partying. Like he'd put any drugs in his system, he wasn't half that dumb and even if he was, Rosethorn woulda strung him up by his heels in winter for trying it. No, the dark circles were from the nightmares. Less once he shared with his sisters finally. All that trying to keep them out did was nearly get them all killed, rather than protecting them.
But now he was alone again. Nene of the girls with him. No Sandry with her nobleness and steel spine and kind heart and gentle words. No Daja with her quick hands and quiet solid strength. No Tris with her sharp temper and her storms. But he had the clothes Sandry had made him, starting with the threads she spun and wove herself, with all the hidden pockets and subtle designs. He had the living metal bracelet that Daja had made for him that no one but she could remove, that hid some of his nastier toys so he could never be disarmed. The bracelet rested against his skin under his long sleeve, hidden. And he did have the little glass bits from Chime's flames that Tris had put some lightning in. Not useful for much he'd admit to, because they were really meant to be lights he could read by at night. Not no one's business that he could read now, and even less that he actually enjoyed it. Tris' head would never deflate.
He shook himself out of his thoughts when he realized he was staring at the girl. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it and shook his head, smiling ruefully at himself. He prided himself on being such a charmer with the ladies and now he had just stared so long it would be awkward to say anything at all. He was like a Kaq at a merchant's faire. He wanted to laugh at himself, but instead he waited. Might as well lean into it, though he was no longer staring. He didn't want her to think he was leering just because his mind had wandered in surprise to find she was pretty and about his age rather than the shriveled old grandlady he had expected.
But still, even if he blew his first impression forever, the plants loved her. And no one the plants loved could ever be all bad.
Not even Dedicate Crane could manage that, no matter how much he seemed to try...
So, sorry Isabella, have a handsome but somewhat awkward too think little street rat that you totally could have caught staring while his thoughts were a world away... And oh yeah, he is carrying a small tree in a stone pot in a sling on his back, and by now the grass is probably starting to curl around his feet, as other plant lean in, trying to get closer to him.
Isabela was so deep in her own thoughts that she failed to notice that someone else is there nearby. She did eventually turned around to find an awkward but very handsome man carrying a plant with him on his bag.
Another plant lover perhaps? Isabela couldn’t help looking at the plant and its owner that she would like to get to know the guy even more.
“Oh hello there,” she greets him in a polite tone, “I notice that small plant of yours. Do you like plants as well?”
Apologies in advance if she begins to chat about plants like there is no tomorrow. She really loves plants so much.
His lips twitched in an amused smile. He managed not to laugh, but only just.
"You could say that." It would be a wild understatement, but it could still be said.
"I'm Briar Moss of Winding Circle in Emelan," he said, offering a hand that had been in his pockets until then. With the hand out now, she'd be able to see what looked like a tattoo of flowering leafy vines. Except... that the vines were moving. They were flat, clearly just ink. But moving ink like it was alive under his skin.
The tattoo intrigues her quite a lot. When in motion, the vines do look like they move gracefully on his hand even though they are made with ink.
Of course, she would love to shake hands with him right about now as she reciprocates the gesture in return.
“It is very nice to meet you today, Briar Moss. I’m Isabela Madrigal, hailing from a country known as Colombia. I just arrived here moments ago. Are you also a new arrival too?”
He nodded, hands back in his pockets after the hand shake. "I am. I've never heard of a kingdom called Colombia." Or people with names like hers. It was interesting!
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fatedhearts) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fhmemes2025-06-19 05:03 pm
Sorry he does not have icons... (also warning for PTSD >.<)
But he took solace in the plants. He had his miniature Shakkan tree with him, at least. He was wearing it in a sling over his back not unlike the one Evvi kept Luvo in. And he had his belt pockets loaded with seeds and seed balls.
He had been exploring this new place, gathering seeds and talking to the plants softly when they spoke to him of someone he needed to meet. Someone like him and Rosethorn but not. Someone whose magic made them grow and bloom even beyond his Sandry-enhanced abilities. Whoever this was, he had to meet her! So he followed the guidance of the plants to try and find her. HE was expecting some old lady, withered but with a spine of steel. So he almost walked right past Isabella and her snack until the plants stopped him. He turned back at looked at her in surprise.
Then mentally kicked himself. She looked as much like a Green Master as he did. In fact he still kept his Master's medal under his shirt because he was tired of people thinking he was still some street kid who knicked it. Never mind that his healing salves helped stop a plague. Never mind he was one of the three strongest plant masters at Winding Circle. Possible in all of Emelan.
No, all they saw was a kid in his late teens, a street kid from Stoat with the tell tale golden brown skin and black hair that flopped into his green eyes. Never mind that these days his hair was clean and flopped artfully rather than sloppily. Never mind that he was dressed comfortably sure but in fabric as nice as the richest bag ever wore, thanks to Sandry's deft hand with both a needle and her thread magic. They saw his bare feet as proof he was still a poor little nothing. They saw the dark circles under his eyes and presumed it was from drugs or all night partying. Like he'd put any drugs in his system, he wasn't half that dumb and even if he was, Rosethorn woulda strung him up by his heels in winter for trying it. No, the dark circles were from the nightmares. Less once he shared with his sisters finally. All that trying to keep them out did was nearly get them all killed, rather than protecting them.
But now he was alone again. Nene of the girls with him. No Sandry with her nobleness and steel spine and kind heart and gentle words. No Daja with her quick hands and quiet solid strength. No Tris with her sharp temper and her storms. But he had the clothes Sandry had made him, starting with the threads she spun and wove herself, with all the hidden pockets and subtle designs. He had the living metal bracelet that Daja had made for him that no one but she could remove, that hid some of his nastier toys so he could never be disarmed. The bracelet rested against his skin under his long sleeve, hidden. And he did have the little glass bits from Chime's flames that Tris had put some lightning in. Not useful for much he'd admit to, because they were really meant to be lights he could read by at night. Not no one's business that he could read now, and even less that he actually enjoyed it. Tris' head would never deflate.
He shook himself out of his thoughts when he realized he was staring at the girl. He opened his mouth to speak then shut it and shook his head, smiling ruefully at himself. He prided himself on being such a charmer with the ladies and now he had just stared so long it would be awkward to say anything at all. He was like a Kaq at a merchant's faire. He wanted to laugh at himself, but instead he waited. Might as well lean into it, though he was no longer staring. He didn't want her to think he was leering just because his mind had wandered in surprise to find she was pretty and about his age rather than the shriveled old grandlady he had expected.
But still, even if he blew his first impression forever, the plants loved her. And no one the plants loved could ever be all bad.
Not even Dedicate Crane could manage that, no matter how much he seemed to try...
So, sorry Isabella, have a handsome but somewhat awkward too think little street rat that you totally could have caught staring while his thoughts were a world away... And oh yeah, he is carrying a small tree in a stone pot in a sling on his back, and by now the grass is probably starting to curl around his feet, as other plant lean in, trying to get closer to him.
no subject
Another plant lover perhaps? Isabela couldn’t help looking at the plant and its owner that she would like to get to know the guy even more.
“Oh hello there,” she greets him in a polite tone, “I notice that small plant of yours. Do you like plants as well?”
Apologies in advance if she begins to chat about plants like there is no tomorrow. She really loves plants so much.
no subject
"You could say that." It would be a wild understatement, but it could still be said.
"I'm Briar Moss of Winding Circle in Emelan," he said, offering a hand that had been in his pockets until then. With the hand out now, she'd be able to see what looked like a tattoo of flowering leafy vines. Except... that the vines were moving. They were flat, clearly just ink. But moving ink like it was alive under his skin.
no subject
Of course, she would love to shake hands with him right about now as she reciprocates the gesture in return.
“It is very nice to meet you today, Briar Moss. I’m Isabela Madrigal, hailing from a country known as Colombia. I just arrived here moments ago. Are you also a new arrival too?”
no subject