Mostly though, she goes just because she has nothing better to do. She needs to meet the others in this herd, even if they are healers. She’s assuming that’s their job, if they are talking about herbs. She has this picture in her head that all healers are probably fussy old ladies (though the voice that calls to them is none of the sort, she doesn’t shake the image).
When she finally finds the source of the voice, she is indeed not greeting by a little old biddy. Rather, there’s a black stallion with rams horns that curl from his head, an emerald cuff glinting in the sun from the one. She isn’t surprised he’s not a little old biddy, but maybe a bit disappointed. She doesn’t let it show though, offering a pleasant smile instead. It always feels strange to her to be polite. It’d never been required of her when she served as the Chamber Princess. Politeness was a skill she learned on her travels here.
“Weaver,” she offers by way of a greeting. It is strange not to know anyone around her in a place she now calls home. Strange because she always knew everyone once. Strange because at least when she was traveling, it seemed like she should feel like an outcast, a stranger. Now though, she doesn’t like the feeling, and would like to shake it as soon as possible. “What is all this stuff?” she says, gesturing rather generally to all the plants growing in the greenhouse.
If only he’d said he could teach her how to kill someone with some of those plants. She’d be far more interested in that then helping. Though maybe it couldn’t hurt to help now and again.
weaver
@Mortuus Nox
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Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
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