Difference between revisions of "Log:Hunting Wintergreen"

6 March, 2017

Ridley and Soleil run into each other in an unlikely place.

Rockfell Meadow

============-< << Wilderness - Rockfall Meadow >> >-============

The trail gradually descends from its high slopes, though it's still high enough to have a good vantage over the farmland down beyond Salvation's foothills.

This particular area features a number of very graphic signs showing the dangers of inattention to rockfall; creatively broken limbs are the least of it. While the meadow is beautiful, dotted with wildflowers in the warmer seasons and so, so tempting to gallop across, the rocks scattered amidst those grasses are also featured upon those warning signs. The occasional cabin takes its chances on the slopes, sturdy walls built up on the high side for protection in shedding any small boulders which might slide to strike them from above.

It's a chilly wintery day, not exactly prime hiking weather, particularly in this dangerous area of the woods. But...there is Soleil anyway, digging deep into the

snowy ground, humming to herself as she hunts for something below the snow.

Music. It's quiet; in most cases, it's the sort of thing that would be very easily missed - either not heard at all, or perhaps simply written off as the song of

some random bird or another. It is not, however, random; nor is it a bird. The instrument is an odd one - not precisely a flute, and not precisely a tin whistle; it's longer, a bit heavier, and the tune carries a somewhat more resonant

undercurrent to the general high pitch.

The source of that music would, in time, be revealed to be that slender young fellow seated upon a rock towards the very edge of the meadow. One foot cocked up,

Ridley might well seem to be buffeted by breezes that do not entirely exist as he plays - a low, quiet sort of tune that might be some traditional ballad.

Soleil looks up when she hears the sound, cocking her head to one side to get a better listen, and looking around for the source of the tune. When she spots Ridley,

she smiles a wide, friendly smile and offers a wave, standing and brushing the snow off her gloves before picking up her woven foraging basket and heading his way.

"Hi there! That's a lovely song. I wouldn't have expected an impromptu serenade out here in the rockfalls."

Withdrawing the flute at your approach, Ridley's sky-blue eyes seem to shift up and to one side; then slide towards you with a fluid tip of his head as the very

edge of his lips tug upwards in a half-edged sort of smile. "Ah, there's music everywhere - most are just too busy with their own affairs to recognize it for what

it is." Well, that's an accent. Scottish, by the sound of it - though perhaps a touch more rustic in the brogue. What's more, that breezy sort of undercurrent seems

to creep into his voice as well - lending it a somewhat rasping, whispery resonance. "And I've always been of the opinion that a lovely lady should expect a

serenade no matter where she be."

Soleil laughs and gives Ridley a friendly smile, "Ahh, songs /and/ flattery. I think you might be trouble, sir." She winks and pauses, eyeing a lump in the snow

speciulatively before dropping to her knees and beginning to dig. "But tell me, friend, what brings you out this way?"

"So I've been told;" The response comes lightly enough - and coupled with a fractional readjustment of his posture, straightening and turning, to level his

attention more fully upon her. "Though I've never been quite clear as to if it was an insult or a compliment.

He does continue to watch, however, as she drops down and begins to dig; and while he does not have even the slightest hint of a mantle of his own - unless one

assumes the rippling winds and constant breezes to be some kind of representation - she might notice that when she gets within two or three paces her own begins

to... act up. More specifically it might seem that first a sliver, then a half moon shape began to get cut out of the normal radius; as if drawing closer to him

somehow caused a proverbial eclipse, cookie-cuttering fragments out. They do not simply _vanish_, but those external effects, the dust of pollen, even the sounds

and scents, just seem to become absent in that area.

For his part, though, either Ridley doesn't notice, or he doesn't seem to think it anything out of the ordinary. "Ah, wandering; as per the usual. What of you? Lost

your pot of gold?"

If Soleil takes any notice of the changes, or sudden absense, of her mantle, she doesn't mention it, instead just laughing and giving a little shrug as she

continues to dig, "Depends on the /kind/ of trouble, I suppose." The question, however, causes her to frown, shaking her head, "I don't /think/ I have. I hope not,

at least. I'd hate to have to find it again." She seems to fall into real worry for a moment, then shakes her head and smiles, "I'm sure it's fine. Anyway. I'm just

on a hunt for some wintergreen. I /know/ I saw a patch here in the fall. I'm just hoping I can unbury enough for this recipe I want to make tonight."

"Ah, well. Trouble is what you make of it - it has a tendency to be there whether you want it to or not, and really the only choice you have is how you approach

it." Pause. Beat. "Or let it approach you."

Shaking that off a breath later - almost as if clearing his head - Ridley's focus once more pinpoints into your general area before he continues. "Ah; that's a tiny

bit of plant there; might be a touch difficult to track but..." With as he speaks, though, the Elemental rolls down off the edge of the rock and lands in an almost

light spring upon the balls of his feet - then, a breath later, drops to a three pointed crouch as he scans along the near horizonline. "Do y'recall how large it

was when last you saw it?"

Soleil grins and nods, "People say I invite trouble, but it's not entirely accurate. I just think it's better to assume that even the worst kind of trouble isn't

all that bad, so.." she shrugs and trails off, focusing on digging for a moment, her strange, butterfly tongue flickering a bit as if tasting the air. "Hmm, well,

it was a pretty big patch, but the plant itself is always small." She finally gets to bare earth beneath the snow, and digs just a bit further, before letting out a

pleased little cry and plucking a single leaf, "See? I knew it was still here." She offers it to Ridley, as if giving him a special treat. "There's nothing quite as

nice as wintergreen in winter. People's tongues go numb with all the starchy, heavy foods, and a bit of mint goes a long way to start people waking up again."

"Ah; see, in my experience trouble does not need to be invited. It shows up when it wants, where it wants and leaves people to deal with it as they will." Still,

nothing about the way he speaks might indicate as to wether or not he considers this a _bad_ thing. "Inviting it implies that there's some way to avoid it - which

is usually not the case. At best you can put it off for a while - or just redirect it to someone else."

The leaf is taken as offered; coupled, again, with a fractional smile. "Oh, believe me - I know. You could say I've a certain affinity for the wilds. I do believe

I've spent more time with naught but the sky as my roof than anything else." And with that... he pops the leaf in his mouth. Absently, without even the slightest

moment given to thought or hesitation; and chews lightly before swallowing.

Soleil grins and nods, "Oh yeah? Me too, really. I've got a house now, back at the farm, but I often find myself out with the animals, or down in the garden to

sleep, just because it's a bit less...claustrophobic, I suppose." She gives Ridley a curious look for a moment, as she carefully starts to unbury more of the tiny

wintergreen plants, carefully, and with an impeccable discernment, choosing which of the leaves to pick and place in her basket. "I'm Soleil, by the way. Have you

been around here long?"

"I'm not sure if that's necessarily the word - I mean, I am not terribly uncomfortable indoors; but it simply feels..." There's another pause in the rythm of his

speech; a lingering moment in which he might seem to be searching for a word before he tacks on. "Unnatural."

And speaking of, he downs the wintergreen leaf without even the slightest hint of ill effect; watching you for a few breaths longer before responding. "Ridley; and

I have been, off and on. I've never had much of a reason to stay put before the Freehold was established, however."

Soleil nods in understanding, "Ah, I see. Same here, kind of. I've been away a while. Kinda...avoided the place after I got back from...elsewhere. Just traveled

around a bit and stuff. But people got sick of helping me carry all my stuff around, so I had to settle someplace, and the ol' family home seemed like a good plan.

It was nice to see the dairy still up and running. And it's been great, with the freehold getting all put together and all that. So much to do, and all that. I

can't wait to see what happens once things really get rolling, you know?"

"Ah, see; I came up with a brillant way to avoid that problem - I don't have any more stuff than I can easily carry." There's a hint of a smile there, again;

perhaps even a note of amusement in his voice - but it fades off a heartbeat or two later as he glances back to the near horizon. "But I agree; there's some sort of

change on the wind - though be it to good or ill is anyone's guess. What will come to pass will come to pass, however; and I do expect it will be interesting

nonetheless."

Soleil beams at Ridley, nodding a bit and agreeing, "Oh, well, yeah, of course. Things happen, always. It's one of the few things that can be guarunteed. Hopefully

it'll be fun stuff though, at least some of it." She hops up, satisfied with her collection, "Anyway, it was nice meeting you, but I've got to get back. Stop by my

place any time. It's MIlk and Honey Farm, just down on Greenfield Road." And with a little wave, she's off, heading back down the mountain, humming an out of tune

song.