(no subject)

[gredya]

("Bugs? You want me to hunt...bugs?" "It's just that insects are one of the most common kinds of organisms to travel between continents--worlds--and remain--" "No. Plants, yes. No bugs." "If you're squeamish about--"

Gredya looked to her friend, who put a hushing hand on the third woman's shoulder. "Plants are fine, Gredya. We don't need bugs."

Collecting bugs is beneath the dignity of a grown Wyr. Even for her only friend.)


--

Gredya is back in Milliways, for her reading lesson and for further reconnaissance: before going into the bar, she's wandering the grounds and the gardens collecting any plants that strike her as unusual and carefully putting each into a plastic bag.

She has the expression of a teenager sent to collect hideously embarrassing groceries for her mother.

Comments

[starrydome]

There is someone else in the garden today.

Someone who seems not at all embarrassed to be seen with plants. In fact, it would seem as if he is singing to them.

Elrond is dressed in robes of grey and blue and his hair is artfully braided and held back from his face by tiny, silver pins.

The scents of Imladris hide in his hair and his clothes. The wild beauty of the forest, the clear, crisp it of the mountains. The welcoming fire and the calming herbs growing around the house.

[gredya]

Plants are fine, as far as that goes. But collecting plants and putting them in little bags to bring home so that someone can look at them, that's...it's weird. When she sees the stranger Gredya hangs back a bit, but he looks and smells like a person from a world more like the ones she feels comfortable in; after a few moments' observation she steps close to him. "It is your garden?"

[starrydome]

He looks up, smiling at her.
His face may be unlined, but his eyes are ancient.

"No," he replies. "I am not even sure if it truly has an owner. It is free for all to enjoy."

[gredya]

Gredya nods. That's good. She has no plans to start a fight over some leaves. "Someone brings the seeds?" Someone must have: these are growing in too orderly a fashion, different kinds in each spot, for it to be wild.

[starrydome]

"A lot of people have contributed, I should think. And there are many who tend to it now, keeping the beds weed free and the soil moist."

He's got a pleasant voice. Calm and clear.
And leaf shaped ears, the tips partly shielded by braids.

[gredya]

"Any from your world?" She doesn't specifically recognize any of the scents from his clothing: forest, mountains, herbs, fire, but nothing that would mark a world she knows. "I take some home. Good to know names."

[starrydome]

"Some," he says and gets up, smoothly.
He's very tall as he stands there, indicating a bed a little ways off.

"There grow various mints. They can be very useful. And that plant is called Heart's Ease by the Men of my world. It can be combined with Lissuin there," pointing to a cluster of honey colored flowers, "for calming teas."

[witchfinder_general]

Father Harman comes outside after his Sunday mass, to take a bit of air and see if his pupil is around for her reading lesson.

He stands outside the back door, in the shadow, looks up into the blue sky, and smiles.

[gredya]

Gredya isn't sure when Mass happens, really, so it's good he comes outside. She spots him and walks up, lightly hefting a sack in her hand. She's more or less smiling. "I bring food. Not meat." He said he didn't need meat, so no meat. "Peaches, he says to eat them quick, they go bad quick. Bread. Some things in leaves."

It's somewhere between a payment and a courteous gesture.

[witchfinder_general]

"Peaches," Father Harman says. "How very nice! Who is the 'he' who said it, though?"

He looks at her little bags of plants.

[gredya]

"He has a place like that." She hooks her thumb back over her shoulder at the main Milliways building. "Not so big. With food, people. Tavern is the word, maybe?"

The peaches-etc. are wrapped in a couple of newspaper sheets, away from the plant samples; she hands them over. Three peaches just on the point of perfect ripeness, a small loaf of dark bread, and half a dozen stuffed grape leaves. The newspaper is the New York Times from 1995.

[witchfinder_general]

"Thank you," Father Harman says, accepting them. He doesn't want to offend by not doing so; he will eat peaches and bread and stuffed grape leaves today, then.

"We could do our reading lesson when you're done with the plant samples. Are you collecting them for a botanist?"

[gredya]

She looks satisfied when he takes the little package. That's all right, then.

"Botanist? I don't know. She is doctor, a doctor, for animals. She knows worlds. --In that garden, they are from your world? You know them?"

[merryeccentricities]

Joly is frankly gaping, head thrown back, studying the sky for weather patterns, cloud formations, flights of birds...falling horses....

He's aware he must look like an utter tourist; back home he'd likely have been pickpocketed by now. But then, he has no money; and what would anyone take, here in this place where all needs are provided? So open-mouthed gawping it is!

[gredya]

All right, that's funny. Gredya watches for a bit, then slings her bag over her shoulder and stalks up behind him, silent on bare feet, to see how close she can get and how long it will take him to notice.

It's play, not practice, but it looks about the same.

[merryeccentricities]

The answer turns out to be Startlingly Close, or at least he certainly startles when he finally sees her. His body tries to back away, bow politely, and jump in surprise all at once, he settles for "falling over a little, but with relative grace".

[gredya]

Easy prey, easy prey. Gredya laughs, open-mouthed. "You don't see around. You should look."

[merryeccentricities]

Joly laughs too, a little more nervously-- but laughing is good! Laughing is usually friendly! Very few people who have tried to take his now- nonexistent wallet have been laughing at the time!

"I-- yes, apparently, so! Well, I do apologize for overlooking you--er- Madame--" he's hoping Madame, he doesn't know, maybe this is a Monsieur when they're wearing that outfit at least. " --my attention was somewhere else."

[gredya]

"Where?" She glances skywards herself, apprehensive for a moment: do the Great come here? They fly over all the worlds, without needing roads. But nothing darkens the sky.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Miss Gredya", Athelstan says, approaching from the direction of the church. "Hello again."

[gredya]

"Monk." Gredya smiles a bit. "You are here again. Or still? You find way home before?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"I found my way home, and then back again - and this place is far too interesting to reject."

[gredya]

She nods. It is. "A place to watch. You go home through woods? Or a door?"

[athelstanthescribe]

"Through the door. It took me to the monastery kitchens, where I'd meant to go. And you?"

[gredya]

"I can go home. I come here again, two, three times. To see the place, to read."