40 Ashan 719
"Did you know, garlic is actually a preventative? Honey, too. Medics aren't quite sure why, per se, but a little spread can aid in recovery and fight sickness of the blood. Wounds, burns, ulcers, bed sores...."
"Please," Azael's shoes scratched against the dirt path when he turned to fuss at the woman who held a book in one hand and a dried flower in the other. He looked down at the satchel slung across her chest, the way the strap slipped between her breasts and the sweat that had dampened her white blouse. The Avriel sighed, recollecting his brief, but brazen thoughts, "Spare me the gory details."
"Since when has blood bothered you?"
"It doesn't," he snapped, waving a hand in the air, "But bed sores? Really, Yeva? Perhaps we could chat about something more...interesting."
She pursed her lips, dark eyes flickering up from the medical journal, "Interesting? This is interesting. You'd just rather talk about yourself."
"Would it hurt?" Azrael grinned. She snorted in derision, but he snatched the flora from her fingers before she could slip into brooding silence, "What's that?"
"Echinacea," Yeva tried to take it back but he held it too high for her to reach. She gave a small jump, and he laughed, waving it high as he coaxed her down the dirt path, "It's a flower primarily native to central Idalos, but has subspecies in the south," she jumped again, growing breathless and far more aware of the heat, "And west. It aids in inflammation."
"Faaascinating."
Yeva huffed and launched herself into the air, dragging the flower back into her possession as she shoved it into her bag. Feeling childish, she stuck out her tongue and the two fell in stride side by side. Exotic flowers and vines weaved across their path, snaking around pillars and flush with sun. There were great blooms, some bigger than her own head in every imaginable color - red, blue, yellow, violet. Berries and moss; a colorful insect bzzt'd past and she was tempted to follow it if it wouldn't have made them late for their own endeavor, "Where are we going?"
"The Trevendor Estate," Azrael grew quiet as a pair of Avriel swooped overhead and didn't begin speaking again until they were out of sight, "I found some work for you today. Something to help get you out of the house."
And for that, Yeva was truly thankful. Azrael was great when he was around, but stuck inside a cave all day had begun to feel imprisoning to say the least. He must have noticed, when she refused to stop lingering by the door, "Trevendor? That doesn't sound like an Avriel name." It was obvious that Yeva wasn't familiar with Athart linguistics, but hearing the locals speak, Trevendor didn't quite fit the flow of used language. In fact, it sounded... Rharnian.
"That's cause it's not."
"It's not?" Avriel had a sour look in his eye and his arms crossed. He was being bitter! "It's a human?" And they had an estate? She had so many questions!
"Humanssss," Azrael snapped, eyeing her up and down. She would be getting ideas and he needed to squash her fantasies quickly, "Freddrik Trevendor and his two sons. Came to Athart before I was born-"
"When?"
He glared, "I don't know. Fifty arcs or so? Does it matter?"
"Yes," she smiled, packing away her book and picking up speed, "It's part of the city's history. Go on."
"Long story short, Trevendor managed to manipulate some guards into giving him a little freedom. All for some stupid fruit; like a weed that wouldn't stop growing."
"That's so interesting," she gushed with a genuine curiosity that baffled her companion, "How-"
She was silenced by three fingers that pushed against her moving lips, "I don't know, I don't care. Cmon, we're almost there. You have everything?"
Snapped back to reality, "Um," Yeva rummaged through her satchel and the medical kit it contained, pushing aside a few pouches of herbs as she did so. He hadn't quite told her what to expect, "I think so. Is someone sick?"
"Something like that."
"Please," Azael's shoes scratched against the dirt path when he turned to fuss at the woman who held a book in one hand and a dried flower in the other. He looked down at the satchel slung across her chest, the way the strap slipped between her breasts and the sweat that had dampened her white blouse. The Avriel sighed, recollecting his brief, but brazen thoughts, "Spare me the gory details."
"Since when has blood bothered you?"
"It doesn't," he snapped, waving a hand in the air, "But bed sores? Really, Yeva? Perhaps we could chat about something more...interesting."
She pursed her lips, dark eyes flickering up from the medical journal, "Interesting? This is interesting. You'd just rather talk about yourself."
"Would it hurt?" Azrael grinned. She snorted in derision, but he snatched the flora from her fingers before she could slip into brooding silence, "What's that?"
"Echinacea," Yeva tried to take it back but he held it too high for her to reach. She gave a small jump, and he laughed, waving it high as he coaxed her down the dirt path, "It's a flower primarily native to central Idalos, but has subspecies in the south," she jumped again, growing breathless and far more aware of the heat, "And west. It aids in inflammation."
"Faaascinating."
Yeva huffed and launched herself into the air, dragging the flower back into her possession as she shoved it into her bag. Feeling childish, she stuck out her tongue and the two fell in stride side by side. Exotic flowers and vines weaved across their path, snaking around pillars and flush with sun. There were great blooms, some bigger than her own head in every imaginable color - red, blue, yellow, violet. Berries and moss; a colorful insect bzzt'd past and she was tempted to follow it if it wouldn't have made them late for their own endeavor, "Where are we going?"
"The Trevendor Estate," Azrael grew quiet as a pair of Avriel swooped overhead and didn't begin speaking again until they were out of sight, "I found some work for you today. Something to help get you out of the house."
And for that, Yeva was truly thankful. Azrael was great when he was around, but stuck inside a cave all day had begun to feel imprisoning to say the least. He must have noticed, when she refused to stop lingering by the door, "Trevendor? That doesn't sound like an Avriel name." It was obvious that Yeva wasn't familiar with Athart linguistics, but hearing the locals speak, Trevendor didn't quite fit the flow of used language. In fact, it sounded... Rharnian.
"That's cause it's not."
"It's not?" Avriel had a sour look in his eye and his arms crossed. He was being bitter! "It's a human?" And they had an estate? She had so many questions!
"Humanssss," Azrael snapped, eyeing her up and down. She would be getting ideas and he needed to squash her fantasies quickly, "Freddrik Trevendor and his two sons. Came to Athart before I was born-"
"When?"
He glared, "I don't know. Fifty arcs or so? Does it matter?"
"Yes," she smiled, packing away her book and picking up speed, "It's part of the city's history. Go on."
"Long story short, Trevendor managed to manipulate some guards into giving him a little freedom. All for some stupid fruit; like a weed that wouldn't stop growing."
"That's so interesting," she gushed with a genuine curiosity that baffled her companion, "How-"
She was silenced by three fingers that pushed against her moving lips, "I don't know, I don't care. Cmon, we're almost there. You have everything?"
Snapped back to reality, "Um," Yeva rummaged through her satchel and the medical kit it contained, pushing aside a few pouches of herbs as she did so. He hadn't quite told her what to expect, "I think so. Is someone sick?"
"Something like that."
