southern star

Smoke wafted up from the pipe held leisurely between The Huntress's lips, spilling from her mouth a bit too as she let out a sight. A love/hate relationship always warred within her on days like this. Days she was all but ordered to stand down and relax. To take time for herself and for no one else. The leaf helped, at least. It wasn't nearly as good as what Par Vollen and Seheron had, but it sufficed.

She'd not bothered to wake her companion, or even do much to prepare herself for the day aside simple clothing. Breeches and a tunic. Not even her boots pulled on - to say nothing about the vitaar she'd normally adorn her body and hair with. Her signature blue locks were nowhere to be found. Instead, her natural look allowed her to wander to her perch unbothered by those that recognized her only for her still qunari-like physical attributes.

The Huntress sat perched on a low, heavy branch away from the bustle of the more inner areas of Arlathan. While she could see the market in the distance, she was no where near being able to hear the constant din of voices. Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, she let out a sigh, eyes closed as she took a drag off the pipe. The smoke easily leading anyone to her that might not have otherwise noticed the elf in her perch.

Sivene was amazed by Arlathan—so many elvhen in one place. It was her homeland, at least her birth-lands... and this time she was free? No shackles or chains adorned her, no cruel mistress or master yelled orders.

It was surreal. And comforting, all at once. She'd wandered in the forest, outside of the main city, to gather mushrooms. She'd been telling someone about the properties of some of the shrooms—though it'd seem that person had simply been tolerating the odd woman until she was out of sight, as they were nowhere to be seen.

Basket full of brightly colored, varying types of mushrooms, Sivene's bright smile fell briefly. And then like an abused child, she was quick to smile again. Weakness had never been something you wanted the Creator to see, and it was ingrained in her to hide that side of her.

She settled underneath a tree, sorting out the mushrooms. At least she could take them to show Rylee, and maybe one of the Arlathan healers. She could smell smoke, but she'd already been tolerated once this morning.

So for the moment, she focused entirely on her basket of fungi, ignoring the qunari above her.

The leaf was definitely doing the trick, as The Huntress didn't even find the sight of another an annoyance. If anything, in that moment, she felt bad for them. What the scenario was, she did not know, but the crestfallen look - albeit short - spoke volumes.

It reminded her of herself.

Even if the moment passed quickly visually, it seemed there was still more there. The Huntress watched, ever silent, as the stranger decided to stay at the tree. Settled in and sorting... mushrooms.

While nice, it was also odd to be totally ignored. At least, in Arlathan, it was odd. Anywhere else she went, people ignored her left, right, and center. Even before leaving the Qun, she'd been ignored unless specifically required for the services of the Huntsmaster.

Wordlessly, and even without a sigh, The Huntress leaned down from her perch. She held the still smoking pipe in her hand in view of the stranger.

Sivene paused in sorting her mushrooms, to stare at the pipe. And slowly, she reached for it. Fingers curled to hold the pipe, and she glanced higher, following the arm that had offered it. Taking an inhale, deep and slow, she held the pipe back out.

Silence for another few minutes. Before she let herself resume sorting the mushrooms. And as if she'd not been rejected by someone else, she asked, chipper and smiling: Would you like to know what they're for? Each one has a use!

The Huntress watched as the stranger accepted her offer, taking a long moment to breath it in and out. She nodded, then, accepting it back as it was passed to her. Something to settle the nerves. Hidden or not, The Huntress was certain she'd seen them.

In the silence, she resumed her smoking. Relaxed back, but still eyeing the other woman. The question came and she shrugged. Smiling wasn't a forte of The Huntress, and so she didn't return the gesture. Instead, taking a drag off the pipe and sliding down off her perch to sit next to the woman. What else did she have to do today, after all?

As the other woman seated herself next to her, Sivene would launch into a rapidfire tangent about what each mushroom was called. She'd inform the other about what each mushroom could do, and what it was commonly used for in ancient times. And then whether it was used in today's modern remedies.

She went into detail about poison, what each poison would do to each species, before she realized she'd spoken so long without a breath that her throat was parched.

Which likely meant the rest of her was parched.

Do you have water?

The Huntress watched and listened quietly. No one could ever claim she was a poor listener. In fact, perhaps she was too fond of remaining silent in most circumstances. She'd occasionally puffed on her pipe as she took the information in. Much of it she knew, at least in regard to poisons. Though hearing about things used in ancient remedies made her wonder just how old this girl was. Clearly not so young as she appeared to be.

Reaching out a hand, her fingers grazed over the more poisonous varieties until she plucked one up in particular. These are used in Qamek.

Without even looking at the woman, she set the mushroom down and lazily pulled a leather canteen off her belt. She held it over for her company. Once it was out of her hands, she'd select another variety. The poisons didn't bother her the way it might others. A blessing, really, given her former position within the Qun and allowance to wear vitaar like the others.

How common are these? she asked, now looking over at the talkative woman. If they were more common than some of her other ingredients, she could perhaps start using them in her vitaar mixes.

Sivene watched as the Huntress reached to scoop up a poisonious mushroom. She tilted her head, In what? She inquired, leaning forward patiently, eagerly. She wanted to learn more about other cultures; though maybe not the shems.

Pretty common, she stated, claiming the canteen. She drank from it deeply, Especially in the dark woods, the corners where they bury the dead. She wiped her mouth, and held the canteen in one hand as she watched what the other woman picked up.

Do you make poisons?

Unpleasant, she replied. After a moment, she continued: The Tamassrans use it when a subject refuses conversion. Viddath-bas have been touched by Qamek. Something that could likely happen to her if she were ever to be captured by the Qun. The irony of this woman unknowingly finding a piece of that puzzle did not escape her.

The Huntress listened intently for the answer on the other poisonous plant, the one she could find use of herself. Common was good, it would mean her vitaar might be easier to make. A little less precious.

I make vitaar. Pausing for a drag off her pipe, she reached around to one of the pouched on her belt and loosened it. Holding it out, she nodded to it. It is my protection, but it is poisonous to all but my people. Qunari and the elves of Seheron, that was. Both were her people in their own way. The elves that gave her life, the Qunari that gave her purpose.

Sivene peered at the other woman, curious. What is Tamassran? And viddath? She is one-hundred-percent butchering these names, pronouncing them with more of an elvish lilt than they call for. You speak strange elvish. She stated. The other woman seemed to prefer blunt honesty, which was great. Sivene was...

Well, she was nothing if not blunt. Why would you want to make poison?

The Huntress mulled the questions over for a moment, trying to pull the meanings from the depths of her mind. Those who speak. She translated with a slight nod, as if this would explain everything. Viddath... convert. Viddath-bas are... slaves. It was the best connection she could make for someone outside the Qun to understand.

To the comment, she let out half a breathy laugh. I do not speak it. I was Qunari; am Tal-Vashoth. I speak Qunlat. The Huntress lifted her shoulders slightly in a shrug, taking another drag off her pipe.

Blowing the smoke out slowly, she retracted the hand with the pouch and returned it to her belt. Protection. What else would she make it for? It dries like bark on a tree, she added after a moment. With her free hand, she knocked on the tree she leaned against to make her point.

Sivene studied the other blankly, as she explained the language. Slaves, though, were something she knew much about. When it comes time to clarify that the language was not a strange elvish but another language entirely, she frowned and quietly redirected her attention to the mushrooms she had gathered.

She only looked back up as Huntress knocked on the tree they rested against. Protection... like armor? She's never heard of any plant being used like that, except perhaps wood, and even that was a rare sight these days with iron and other metals much more easily available.

How does it protect?

Yes, like armor. But more... flexible, lighter - easier to bear into conflict. If she'd had some in her hair right then, she might have tried to demonstrate. In... some fashion. Hair wasn't as easy an example as on her skin might be.

It lessens the chance of a slash against the skin. Or leaves an attacker poisoned if they dare touch our skin where it is protected, or whatever weapon has crossed it. It was difficult to really explain for her. It was just something those in the Antaam did. It was how it always was, as far as she'd ever known.

Sivene nodded, slowly. She didn't quite understand, but it did sound like it made sense. So it's like when I touch someone. That made sense. She paralyzed those that came into contact with her skin, after she's been drenched in water. To her, it was all coming together...

Thank you for explaining. She beamed up at the the woman, as if the explanation had made her entire day. Will you show me how to make some?

If your touch is poison, then yes. The Huntress replied, arching a brow as she gave the other woman another look up and down. While she was curious as to how that was possible, as it did not appear anything adorned her skin, she did not get much opportunity to ask.

The question left her quiet for a short time. Consideration floating through her mind as she took a few slow, long drags off her pipe. The Huntress had never considered sharing her knowledge of making vitaar before. But she'd also never been asked until now. And the innocent joy this woman seemed to take in learning and hearing what she had to say... it gave her pause.

Another she might have flat declined. Strangers did not need to know the secrets of how she protected herself. But this one... was different.

Meravas. I will show you. She finally decided with a nod. Standing abruptly, The Huntress brushed herself off before taking her pipe and snuffing it out. Wordlessly, as she expected the other woman to follow her, she headed to her domicile. On the way cleaning and clearing out her pipe before stowing it in her pack.