faderift | I'd but smell the growing things

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I'd but smell the growing things

WHO: Siuona and [your face here]
WHAT: Let's check out this here garden!
WHEN: After more or less everyone has arrived at Skyhold.
WHERE: Skyhold garden
NOTES: Open to all!

It was a quiet, chilly morning when Siuona felt strong enough to leave her tent among the healers. With a warm woven halla shawl around her shoulders and slippers on her pale feet, she bundled her belongings in a corner of the tent and secreted herself away to the courtyard where she knew the communal garden to be.

Over the course of her convalescence, Sina had become increasingly homesick for the wooded Free Marches, and had felt her spirits weakening to a point where she knew, from the healer's perspective, that it would affect her recovery if she didn't find a way to occupy herself.
'You're so dramatic', she scoffed under her breath in muttered Elvhen, tugging the shawl around herself as she made her way through the dark, drafty hall and through the archway into the cloister. 'Have some self-sufficiency.'

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of all the vegetation; having spent the last several weeks tromping around in snow-covered mountains and then wallowing inside a tent inside impassible stone walls, the sight of greenery was enough to bring a sudden rush of tears to her eyes.

Shivering from the chill and her lingering weakness, Sina approached the rows of pots and sat by what she knew to be elfroot, tenderly running her fingers over the leaves, mopping absently at her still-streaming eyes with the sleeve of her tunic. It wasn't until she had refocused her gaze on the elfroot, and really looked at it, that she abruptly noticed something strange.

Why was so much of it missing, and so ineloquently clipped?

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The muffled crunch of vegetation heralded Nahariel's approach, although she stopped halfway across the 'garden'--if it could be called such--to watch Siuona sniff quietly and run her fingers across the battered elfroot plants. Like the rest of Skyhold, this area, too, was in overgrown disarray. Large, solid, earthenware pots remained from the original garden, and a small well covered over with half-rotten planks, but of what was planted all that time ago, only the elfroot remained. The rest was mountain grasses, and a few untended trees.

If anyone could nurse it back to glory, Nari thought, it would be Sina. She'd been the only one in the clan who could get the seeds Keeper Thalia had brought from the plains to grow. She'd won a knife off Isen the day the flowers bloomed. The hunter chuckled at the memory, then turned it into a quiet clearing of her throat to get the younger woman's attention.

"I brought you some tea, da'halla. They were brewing it at the healer's tents. Elfroot, I think--it'll help to warm you up out here. And with whatever's left of the cough."

Part of the answer was the people tending to it. Peter wasn't a builder, or much of a fighter, or one of the dozen other things that were really helpful in pulling an old fortress back together. What he was was willing to do whatever little task anyone gave to him. Bring this here, take that there, get elfroot from that. These were things he knew. Sadly, as a tower-raised mage, most of his plant experience was with the drying out and grinding process, not the harvesting. So when told to clip he just...clipped. No strategy to it.

But now, passing by the site of his previous chore, he can't help but notice the elf apparently judging his handiwork.

"...Er, something wrong? Ma'am?"

Sina looked up at Nari, and her face, previously taut with pain, relaxed ever so slightly into a tired smile. "Ma serannas, Nari," she said softly, and stood just long enough to accept the cup, which she brought to her face so she could inhale the steam.
"I just left the healer's tents," she confessed, blushing a little, "I got..." She hunted for words. "What do they call it? Cabin fever. I don't like not being busy."
She touched the leaves of the elfroot again, then returned her gaze to her friend. "Someone's been taking this, I think. Someone who doesn't know how to cut it properly."

Slightly surprised, Sina turned her head to the one who addressed her. She saw a young human, perhaps no older than herself-- but he had called her Ma'am, which she understood to be a sign of deference, so surely he wasn't here to make trouble?

"Ah.." she faltered, and looked again at the potted plants. "...the elfroot is in trouble," she explained, only then realizing he might think that was why she'd been crying. She hastily wiped her face.

The other elf smiled crookedly in return, "I don't know how to cut it properly, but I promise it wasn't me," she said, kneeling beside Sina and fingering one of the leaves. It popped off in her grip, and she coughed slightly and quickly palmed it in the hope that her friend wouldn't notice. She, by contrast, had never been good with plants. With the wood of trees, yes, but with their living forms? Not a whit.

"Do you think they're salvageable?" she asked, "If not, I know I saw some growing wild not too far outside of Skyhold. I could go dig a few plants up for you, and we could start a garden?" She stood up again, stretched, and looked critically at the space. "I bet it would help the healers here a great deal. After all, there's like to be more wounded. Maybe you could teach them how to grow and harvest correctly," she said. Nahariel hunched her shoulders slightly against the breeze and thinned her lips, "if they'll listen to one of the People, anyway."

It was more an old habit to dig at shem'len ignorance than any experience she'd had so far with the Inquisition. Neither human she'd met thus far had been rude or demeaning, although Sam had cautioned her that not everyone shared those views.

Edited 2015-10-27 20:05 (UTC)

He had slaughtered that plant. And this..this was an elf thing, right? Understandings of plants and other foresty things. Apparently to the point that it could be this upsetting...he may have to ask Gavin how that worked. For now, he felt his stomach sink as he came over to her fully so he could see the plant, shoulders slouching as the time came to own up to his apparent sins.

"...can it be saved?"

"That's..." Sina began, and trailed off, realizing the truth of it. "That's probably a very good idea, Nari." She smiled, even if it wilted at the prospect of their people being disrespected.
"Spindleweed and rashvine wouldn't hurt either," she considered, lifting the teacup to take a sip from it.

Although Sina hadn't spoken to many in Skyhold yet, she was alarmed by how shy this human boy acted around her. She found herself even offering him a reassuring smile as he approached, knitting her brow in concern for his dejection.

"Yes, I think so," she said softly, "it's just being cut incorrectly." She gestured to a stem that had been halved clumsily. "...we'll need as much as we can get, I imagine, but it can't grow when it's being stunted."

It was just a leaf- but, apparently not. Peter frowned all the harder, looking down at the plant...and still not seeing what was wrong, really. But he had a thorough lack of plant experience, everything outside the tower had just seemed to grow on it's own, no human (or elf) hand involved. So he'd have to take her word for it. And maybe learn from it.

"You know about the right way to cut them?"

"I do," she replied, quietly, succinctly. Then she hesitated, wondering if, perhaps, she was being presumptuous. She looked up at him again with a sheepish smile. "..I.. can show you, if you'd like."

"Yeah- yeah, sure. If you don't- if that's alright."

Ancient elf secrets? No, that'd be going a little too far. Just horticulture. That's all. But it sounded simple enough, and he could use all the little skills he could get to stay useful to this new Inquisition.

"Serah...?"

Sina blinked at him, her mind racing for a response. Serah? Was that a title??
"...Siuona," she guessed, with an uncertain half-smile. "Dahlasanor. Sina. ..Sina for short." She quickly catalogued everything she'd just said to make sure none of it had been in Elvhen. Did her name count?

"Ah... sit," she decided, gestured in front of her, and immediately fretted she'd come off too commanding. Shem didn't like the People bossing them around, right? Oh Creators she'd be drawn and quartered.

Without noticing a moment of her fretting, Peter sat. Right where directed. Better to get the lesson on with and stop making poor elves cry from his lack of gardening skills.

"Peter. Thanks for helping, Sina."

"Peter," Sina repeated, and gave a small nod before turning back to the elfroot.

"See here, how it's been torn mid-stalk?" she pointed out, "too much of this... it'll stunt its growth, and will prevent anyone from planting more. Clipping the leaves right at their heads will allow more to grow back. That's for tea, mostly." She dug a shallow hole in the pot with her fingers to show him the roots. "The juice is for healing salves and potions. You can make them without, but elfroot is the most effective." She buried the roots again and brought her hand to her lap, where she wiped some of the dirt off on her robe. The tugging motion very briefly revealed the glint of the shard beneath the collar of her tunic, but she folded her hands in front of her and seemed not to notice.

"Are you... from the Circle?" she guessed.

Nahariel nodded. "I'll keep an eye out." She stood quietly for a while and then chuckled ruefully, running a hand through her hair. "What do they look like, again?"

Sina laughed lightly, but quieted it in another sip of her tea. "Rashvine is reddish, it hangs from rocks and walls usually," she explained, "and spindleweed grows in marshes and riverbanks. You'll know it when you see it."

"Marshes..." she repeated, her smile fading into a more serious line. Nahariel rubbed her arm, and then sat down again so she could be level with Sina. The ground was chilly and hard.

"Sina, da'halla, I've heard a few things, and I think they need scouts to go to the mire south of the Hinterlands, and I--" her words started coming in a rush of explanation, "--do you want me to stay until you're better? Or at least sit this mission out? No-one would blame us. We could work on the garden--that's still doing something to help." The hunter smiled quickly, self-consciously, but her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.

He narrows his eyes as she talks, trying to commit it to memory. Leaves, tea. Roots, healing. Growing. Right. He could manage to keep that straight. For the most part. He blinks back up to the present as she asks him a question.

"Oh, yes. I was. When there were Circles. It's...different. Out here. But you're from the for- the dalish."

Sina listened, and then she reached forward to gently take Nari's hand, her own warmed by the teacup. "Do what's right," she said softly, "I'll be fine." She smiled, the slightest glint of mischief in her eyes. "...and this way you can bring me spindleweed."

Sina nodded, smiling faintly when he got it correct. "It's different for us too," she said, "though perhaps not all of us." She laughed lightly, without much actual mirth. "...maybe just me."

Nahariel laughed, obviously relieved, and gave her friend's tea-warmed hand a squeeze. "I'll bring you so much spindleweed you'll be using it to stuff pillows."

Still smiling, she settled into a more comfortable position, leaning her shoulder gently against Sina's. "So. Tell me how this garden will look when we're finished."

With an infrequently-heard giggle, Sina angled herself to rest her head on Nari's shoulder, still cupping the tea in both hands in her lap. "It will look like a green place ought to," she mused, her grey eyes wandering over the courtyard, "...so thick with vegetation that we won't even see the walls anymore." She lifted her head just enough to take a sip, then rested it back down.
"It will be a place of life. And peace."

Nari closed her eyes, and tilted her head to rest it on Sina's, warming her cheek against the other woman's hair. She reached an arm around to give her a quick hug.

"Life and peace. Sounds good," she replied, content to sit like that for a while, huddled in front of the straggling elfroot as if it were the hearthfires of Clan Dahlasanor in a less complicated time. After a few minutes spent in contemplation, she sighed.

"We have a little work to do before that, though. I thought you might end up here, so I got you these from the quartermaster--with a few changes," she said, pulling a pair of gloves from her belt and offering them to Sina. They were simple leather with a woolen lining for warmth and the fingertips removed--most likely by dagger, as it was slightly uneven work. A simple whipstitch made the edges less likely to unravel with use. "I know you like to touch the plants when you're working, so I cut the tips. This way your hands won't get cold while you're making everything grow."

"Well, none of you can be used to this much...humanity. Right?"

That was a thing, he was sure of it. Elves staying away from humans when they could help it.

Sina lifted her head wearily, and smiled with visible delight at the gloves presented to her. "Oh Nari," she gasped, "they're perfect." Immediately she pulled them on for the added warmth, and embraced her friend.
"Ma serranas, vhenan," she whispered, "I will miss you so when you're away."

She shook her head, her smile growing slightly. The boy wasn't like she understood humans to be: if anything, he was enough like her that she was warming to him faster than most.
"I'd never seen a human before," she confessed, "they're... perhaps not quite as bad as I'd imagined."

"Don't worry," Nari replied, with more confidence than she felt, "it'll be just like the long hunts." Except the rest of the clan won't be there; she'll be alone. Clan Ashara is here too, I guess?

"Did you... meet anyone from the other Clan yet?"

Sina's head remained on Nari's shoulder, but she shook it. (gonna say at this point she hasn't yet) "I'll be all right," she assured her nonetheless, "I'll find a way to keep busy."

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I'd but smell the growing things

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