The ranger couldn't help but grin at word of old Atlas Ashgrave. Back when he was Aldrics age- he had been an apprentice of his. Yes, Farrest had planned on becoming a doctor himself, but fate had other plans. In short he owed much of his knowledge for medicinal herbs to the doctor- running errands such as these was the least he could do.

"Yarrow root and sticklewort-" he echoed, "I'll send them by with Aldric once this doe mess has been settled." At which Alixanna then excused herself into the house- leaving Farrest, Aldric, and Laciel. The frail boy spoke of his plan and the ranger listened.

Farrest squinted against a stray beam of light that peered over the roof of the mayors house. The morning was getting along now- he wondered how far into town the doe was at this point. He nodded politely as he listened to Laciel's stuttering reply- and he made no motion to stop the lad as he ran off. Poor child- so jumpy and afraid. He wondered if losing his father had made Laciel seemingly worsen socially like this. The ranger felt pity for the boy and disappointed in his father. How could a man leave his family like that?

He brushed these upsetting thoughts aside and headed on over to the garden, beginning to pick up the half eaten sunflowers. The ranger wondered what the doe saw in these sticky and tough plants that was so appetizing. Whatever it was- he was sure it would work. Baiting the animal was perfect for gaining its trust. If the plan worked- he planned on stopping by the forge later on that day to personally thank the boy- and offer him something in return for the advice.

Farrest turned toward Aldric,

"Son- do you know Laciel? I don't think I've ever seen you two hang out." He stepped out of the garden and tucked the flowers under an arm as he searched his vest for something,

"He seems like a nice boy- I think you would both benefit from getting to know one another."

Back upstairs the Mayor was much too in shock at the sight of the flower bud to reply in time. Already Guinevere had run off before he could stop her- and how her worries would stop if he did! Varric, in perhaps his own little way of expressing shock, had sputtered something about extinction and vaginas before running off after her.

The mayor guffawed. He laughed so hard that he stumbled back into the room and had to sit down on Guin's bed. The frame creaked and bent into an unnatural "u" shape under his weight- but he didn't care. He leaned the axe against her bed frame and looked up just in time to see a concerned Alixanna. The mayor smiled up at the girl-

"Oh Alixanna- sorry if we all scared you." He said, "but Guin is honestly just overreacting. The flower bud hasn't even bloomed! No one is getting married to anyone. Thats not even the whole point of the flower."

He fell into explanations- where the girl cared to hear it or not- hells it was a way for him to calm himself down about it.

"Yes- the Ascythenia blooms between two kin souls. Soulmates. And, yes, people often pursue relationships after this. And, okay, a few of those people have gone off an married." He rambled, "but soulmate doesn't mean romantic partner or life partner. A soulmate is someone who is much like you. Someone you can connect with on a much deeper level than the physical."

Gareth shrugged,

"What I'm trying to say is- my daughter doesn't have to marry whoever has the same color plant that she has. She can most certainly love them. By all means she can cherish them. Its still her choice in the end- despite what the flower says."

He stood then and smiled down at Alixanna,

"I hope this old man has helped clear up your confusion at least- I hope not everyone thinks of the Ascythenia as an arranged marriage ordeal. Honestly- more often than not- it blooms between close friends."

The mayor was tempted to run off after his daughter and tell her all this- but she was older now. He knows that he cannot chase after her for the rest of her life when something scares her. She's a Hart, he rationalizes, we Harts always find our footing in a battle.

"Excuse me- she hates it when I go into her room unannounced." He says as he steps out of the room and into the hallway with Alixanna, making sure to close the door behind him.

"Shit did I do that?" Says Gareth as he looks down at the glass and flowers strewn about the floor. He siiiighs before smiling apologetically at Ali,

"Head on out now- everyone seems to be fine to me. When you see your father again- tell him I say hello and that I plan on visiting him soon. Just to talk."

Aldric stood there silently as Varric, the bard's son approached the gathering. Aldric didn't really care for Varric at all. Far to irresponsible, not to mention his so called 'harmless' pranks always made someone's day hell. Whether it was the blacksmith and her hammers, abusing his nature magic to trip somebody, heck he even heard about him ruining people's property. Stuff like that just made Aldric angry, why would someone do stuff like that? Why would someone think that ruining someone's day or setting back their livelihood is ok because it's in the name of 'fun'. The only redeeming trait the bard seemed to have was his affinity for nature magic, and even then he still corrupts that by using it for selfish things. Not to mention his constant flirting just leaves Aldric uncomfortable.

He sighed as the young bard disappeared into the house. At least he doesn't have to deal with him on a daily basis, just his messes. About then Alixanna walked up, reminding his father of the delivery of yarrow root and sticklewort that hey owed to the Doctor. Aldric liked Alixanna, she was responsible, took her work seriously, and very knowledgeable when it came to her trade. All traits he found admirable.

One time there was a couple of older kids bullying the baker's son for not giving them some bread. They were the bad kind of kids who didn't want to work for anything. So they decided to 'ask' the baker's son for food. It turned south when he refused them, taking a few hits before Aldric stepped in. Needless to say they weren't too happy about that. Anyone watching would call what came after a fight but it was more like a beat down. Aldric could've fought them and he knew he would've won but that just wasn't the way he was. So he took quite the beating before the boys were satisfied. Luckily the baker's son got away. Anyway, after that Aldric sought help at the clinic, luckily the Doctor was out and Alixanna helped him hide the worst of his bruises.

A loud scream broke Aldric out of his reminiscing. A scream he could only assume to be Guinevere, to which the Mayor went charging into the house, axe in hand. Aldric was actually more concerned then he thought he'd be, in fact he had to fight the strong urge to run into the house himself. After a few loud noises, screams and a very loud shout by the mayor Aldric caught his father mouth to him that they'd better be going soon, the young man couldn't agree more, this kind of drama didn't really suit him. Alixanna was saying something else to his father when she met Aldric's eyes, for whatever reason the young doctor instantly shut up.

She awkwardly excused herself, slipping into the house after the mayor. By that point Laciel finally managed to spit out his plan. Aldric detested the thought of getting Varric's help, but if that's what his father decided he wouldn't object. Both ideas were good, the sunflower bait was so simple Aldric cursed himself for not thinking it up himself.

Another scream pierced the air followed by the clanging of metal. Aldric watched Guinevere run out of the house, sword and armor in hand and resisted the overbearing urge to run after her. He had a responsibility, he told himself. A job to do in the form of catching the cobalt deer. Maybe he'd go and find her after they had accomplished that task. Still that did not stop Laciel who stuttered some kind of excuse as he ran away, clearly following the Mayor's daughter.

After that Varric left the house but before Aldric or Farrest could get to him he simply disappeared. At that point his father began gathering sunflowers, well at least that means the two wouldn't have to hunt down Varric, that'd just be an exercise in frustration.

"Son- do you know Laciel? I don't think I've ever seen you two hang out. He seems like a nice boy- I think you would both benefit from getting to know one another."

His father meant well, Aldric knew that. But the last thing he needed was them discussing his personal life. Still, he WAS his father and he deserved an actual response and not the evasive dismissal he was tempted to give. "No, not very well. The boy can't say two words to me without running for the hills. I respect his thirst for knowledge, and his immense work ethic. He probably finds me intimidating, I'll give it some thought, Father."

The two of them set off after the cobalt deer, going south since that's the way they saw it go last. As they were walking past the baker's shop the topic of the strange bud popped into Aldric's mind again, for some reason he associated the object with a sense of urgency. "Father, there's some sort of bud growing in my room, it's on the end of a thin curling vine and it's placed right in the middle of my window as if deliberately placed so I could not miss it. It's vexing because I couldn't identi-" Aldric was cut off by the sound of the Mayor shouting down the street. "I think we found it Father...."

Farrest nodded as they headed in the direction that the doe had bounded off in. He was glad that Aldric realized that Laciels interest in the outside world was a respectable one. The ranger sometimes wondered if his sons love for Vale was akin more to a wolf and his territory than a boy and his home. As a father- his worries revolved around Aldrics growing up and out of the village- perhaps if he read of the wonders of the outside world, he would then set his sites higher than staying in Vale.

And it was then that Aldric had asked about a flower. Marianne was meticulous in keeping the wilds out of their home. She had been a city girl before moving out to Vale- and adjusting to the life he lead wasn't exactly easy for her. She readily accepted many aspects of his life- but she refused to have them bring the Angar into her Haven. And so much of Marianne's life consisted of cutting, uprooting, and clipping the encroaching forest that often threatened to overtake the walls of their cabin. So, to hear of such a breach in their defenses surprised him. No flower that he knew of could grow so fast.

However, before he could even think on it further, he heard it. The doe, screaming in Gareths voice on the road up ahead. Concerns about the flower fell away and the ranger tossed Aldric a sunflower,

"We'll talk about it later. Arm yourself with this- and be mindful not to spook her. Try not to hurt her, either." He reminded him- although it was unnecessary. No one knew better than a ranger how sacred the lives of the forest creatures were to them. Even when they killed- it was only for a purpose or if the creature threatened their lives. Never for sport. Never for play. Such acts were looked down upon and even condemnable.

The doe had its head poked into one of the bakerys windows- much to the dismay of the bakers son- who was trying to fend it off of the baguettes. The boy was 12- blonde bowlcut hair growing over his eyes- and he was screeching at the top of his lungs,

"Da! Da! It ate the Mayor and now its trying to eat me!"

Farrest motioned with his hands to Aldric, ordering him to circle around behind the doe while he went in through the bakery. His plan was to simply distract it while Aldric, gods willing, could hopefully get a hold of the doe. He tossed his son the lassoe before entering the bakery.

The ranger crouched just as the doe and the baker boy caught sight of him. She recognized him- by the way that her ears flicked forward. Her chewing intensified as he spoke,

"Hey girl. How you doin? You want bread- or this?" And he waved the sunflower at her. It reflected in her eyes.

The bakers son was confused and uncomfortable, while keeping an eye on Farrest he yelled for his father again,

"Da! Ranger Farrest is here and he's talking to this thing I'm scared!"

Farrest smiled patiently at the boy,

"Hush now- she's scared as it is. We're trying to get her out of here."

"Hush now." It bleated at him in the Mayor's voice. Horrified, the bakers son looked as if he might burst into tears.

(last post, going to wait for the others until my next one)

"…but soulmate doesn't mean romantic partner or life partner. A soulmate is someone who is much like you. Someone you can connect with on a much deeper level than the physical."

“Try telling my mum that,” Alixanna mumbled under her breath. She thought about her own flower, hidden under the pail by her door. She thought about how her mum was absolutely going to lose her gods damn mind when she found it. Alixanna did not think about who had the flower that matched her own. She’d cross that bridge some other time.

“…When you see your father again- tell him I say hello and that I plan on visiting him soon. Just to talk,” Gareth said, smiling sheepishly at the mess he’d made.

“Yes sir,” the small brunette answered back, flashing him an affectionate smile and giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. She kind of doubted he could feel it through all of his muscle. “Thanks for the flower talk. If I see Guinevere, I’ll pass it along.” She gives him a quick hug before walking through the front door and starting back for the clinic.

Alixanna is almost home when she sees a flash of light out of the corner of her eye. She glances over towards the training grounds and low and behold, there is Guinevere in all of her glory, hacking away violently at the straw practice dummies. Alixanna’s breathe catches. The other teen is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the sunlight is shining off of her curls and armor, giving her an ethereal sort of glow. She looks like an angel. A sweaty, pissed off battle angel.

Alixanna coughs.

The young healer practically sprints the rest of the way to the clinic. She doesn’t know if her ovaries can handle seeing much more of Guinevere or Aldric today. They might explode.

“I’m back!” Alixanna calls as she comes through the front door. Atlas is sitting at his work table, grinding some concoction with his mortar and pestle. “Anything I can help you with, da?”

Guinevere continued attacking the dummy, hitting it over and over again. Thoughts of the flower, of this soulmate nonsense, of Varric all faded from her troubled mind. So focused on sparring with the inanimate object, she hadn't even noticed someone sneaking up behind her. Startled, Guinevere swung her sword out to the person's neck, only to realize it was Laciel.

"... Uhm, h-hey, Guinevere, th-thought I m-might find -you here... wh-what m-might b-be troubling you th-this time?" He muttered.

"Laciel! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you," Guinevere rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment and lowered her sword. Laciel already had a difficult time speaking with others, the least he needed was a sword pointed in his face. Before she could reply to his concern, Varric walked up to them.

"Ah, Laciel, you sexy hunk of man," Varric said calmly, "Fancy meeting you here. It IS good to see you! But, hey, I've got things to talk to Gwen about, if you don't mind. Now, tata, amd do please tell your mom to stop misplacing those hammers. I worry about that woman." Guinevere raised her eyebrow, why was he suddenly throwing mean comments at Laciel? Varric walked past the blacksmith and walked up to her, almost seeming like he meant to ignore Laciel on purpose. She would have to question him later.

"So, regardless of this flower business, you're my best friend. And no matter what, I want to go on adventures with you and do cool shit. And I want you to know that if destiny doesn't go the way we want, then, well, literally fuck destiny. Fuck it sideways. You're my friend. That's the important thing," Varric said, surprising Guinevere completely. She'd honestly expected Varric to never let this go. Taking a step toward him, Guinevere felt tears well up in her eyes. It was ridiculous that she had overreacted to this whole situation. A flower couldn't change their relationship, nothing could. Overwhelmed with relief, Guinevere didn't something she'd never done before and hugged Varic, only for a second before pulling away of course.

The young woman had seen the male though he’d turned and saw her before she could make a run for it, his face cycling through a string of expressions – all of which she hated, though that might be just because she hated his face and the way he looked at her. Sometimes she really felt the need to pull his eyes out of their sockets, especially when they dropped like they did them to her breasts that which were held in her armour though still partly shown after she’d finished the little job she’d had to do that night in town. She narrowed her eyes at him as she commented on the light jingling that he shouldn’t have been able to hear though the pouch was slightly fuller than it normally was at this time of day since she’d had extra time.

“She doesn’t drink tea.” Was the young assassins only response to what he’d said and as he tried to fix his expression again she saw a ridiculous and irksome grin spread across his face and she toyed with the dagger in her hands some more before looking back up at his again, the edge of the weapon glinting menacingly, free of blood or stains because she kept the blade well maintained even if it was a mithril dagger forged by a dwarf. [color=mediumvioletred]”If I wanted you in my bed you wouldn’t be trying still; stop asking or I’ll cut your tongue out.” Illya smiled as she spoke to Ezra, sweet and innocent looking through it was very clear that she was capable and willing to follow through with her threat right there outside of her house.

@Snarl

"Oh darling but he's a nice boy." Defended his wife as she stood by the teakettle on their stove, facing her husband as he sat down for his breakfast.

"I don't know Elora- I heard something about 15 teats and I'm not sure if that boy is even human." Replied the Doctor. His wife giggled, hiding her smile with a hand, she hadn't expected him to have been listening.

"Oh don't be that way- I'm sure she'll like him once they meet." She said, hugging her sides as she watched him eat a plate of eggs and ginger- a weird combination that the doctor insisted that he loved.

"Gah- you know how I feel about this matchmaking hobby of yours." Finishing his food, he set his utensils on the plate.

"Hobby? Our daughters future is a hobby?" Her anger flared. It shown bright behind her eyes.

"Our daughters future doesn't revolve around her marriage, Elora." He said, leaning back in his chair at the table. And so the old argument began.

"I only want to secure something stable for Alixanna to hold on to!"

"She has the clinic!"

"This little matchbox? No!"

"That "little matchbox" has saved dozens of lives- Elora our daughter has a gift- one that will only be wasted if she marries some uppity noble."

"We were once a pair of uppity nobles ourselves, Atlas. Until we came to this backwater town..." She crossed her arms and frowned, staring out the window.

"I just," she continued, "I just want our daughter to know where she came from. I want her to see that we come from a finer substance."

Atlas Ashgrave stood, pushing away from the table with a sigh. He picked up his plate and walked over to his wife, only to bypass her and begin washing his plate in the sink.

"I understand that, Elora. But marrying her off isn't the way... They will take her off to court, I'm sure of it, and not allow her to continue her medicinal studies. That is what I fear."

His wife remained quiet at this point- she knew she couldn't argue with her husband on the point of continuing their daughters education. It was of utmost importance to Atlas that she do so. Instead she simply smiled and squeezed her husbands forearm ,re stepping out of the room.

Atlas knew that this wouldn't be the last he heard of it- and that he'd have to make it up to Elora in some way. He knew his quick, biting tone often wore her out. The doctor began to brainstorm ways to make her smile as he made his way down the stairs into the main room of the clinic. There he rummaged through the shelves- absentmindedly picking up jars and pouches of preserved ingredients. It was on his to do list to make some salves. They were to be picked up sooner or later by an errand boy, Marcel.

His mind was all caught up on Elora, her dreams for their daughter, and Alixanna herself. He knew that she did not care for anyone arranging anything for her- much less a life partner. But... Perhaps his daughter did want to know their noble family? A marriage to a noble would mean returning to Gardenia.

"Bah!" He spat, grinding the herbs into a paste with his anger, "Like I'll allow my daughter to return to such an environment- the same one I struggled for years to escape from." He grumbled before setting the mortar aside, just as the front door opened and in entered his Ali-girl.

The fathers foul mood dissipated and he smiled at her approach- a rare expression to grace the old mans face. At her offer to help him he nodded,

"Morning- how is my Ali-girl?" He stood- slowly, lest he annoy is knee, and turned to inspect the shelves of ingredients again as he answered her, "We have a house call today. A child is sick with fever. I would go myself- but I feel like it is enough for you to handle. You can go once I've prepared your satchel with the necessaries."

He noticed that their yarrow jar was empty- he turned toward his daughter,

"Seems like we're out of yarrow- remind me to tell Farrest to fetch us some."

He began to pack the satchel with the necessary treatments for the appointment. Salves for cooling. Bitter roots for chewing.



Ezra placed a hand over his heart at her threats, he groaned as if it pained him to hear such biting words,

"The fair ladies tongue lashes out- sharper than any dagger yet coated with sugar- no doubt a poison to corrode my heart." He said dramatically, clearly seeing the hate behind her eyes but refusing to acknowledge it. The man smiled and dropped his hand,

"How was my Varric impression?" He asked with a chuckle, only to feel like his stay would be a short-lived one. Honestly he was surprised he lasted this long without a punch to the face or gut.

"Too tired for a row, I see- understandable. I wouldn't want to end up hurting you." He said with a snort, puffing up his chest absentmindedly as he said so- a pretentious alpha male. Something in the way her fingers tensed- as if ready to do him harm- unnerved him to the point where he bowed.

"I must take my leave. Sleep well and dream of me." He purred, not daring to touch her as he passed and made his way down the road.

Ezra Audigarde's ears and cheeks burned red- he seriously had a problem when it came to angry women.

"I think I'm infatuated with her infuriation.." He said to no one in particular.

~~~
A handful of minutes later Ezra stumbled into town. He really had no plans for the day- although getting something to eat began to rank higher and higher as the minutes passed. The pocket of hunger in his stomach was begin to grow voraciously. Maybe he'd stop by the bakery. The chapel served gruel- although that shit was nasty- he wasn't quite that desperately hungry yet.

It was these thoughts that he was jolted from when he turned a street corner and he saw them. They were hugging- the whole situation seemed rather intimate. So Ezra did something peculiar- he hid. He did not know why- but he felt that, if he were seen, it would make him feel like an intruder. And so he hid behind a fence- a rickety old thing that barely covered him- and watched them from between the posts.

Guinevere was a hot mess. Her hair was all wild and her face was red- no doubt from beating the shit out of the sparring dummy. And embracing her was Varric- who looked uncharacteristically serious. When they pulled apart Ezra found himself searching Varrics face for something- but he did not know what.

"What are you doing..."

Recognising the voice Ezra spun and looked up, his eyes meeting the soft brown ones of a village child.

"Mykiel-"

"Why are you being creepy again?" Asked the boy, trying to peak over his shoulder at Guinevere and Varric.

Embarrassed, Ezra waved him away from the view,

"Shhh- hush now they'll see us."

"Buy me a chocolate later or I'll scream."

"Mykiel I have no coi-"

"EWW EZRA WHAT AR-"

"SHHHH- fine fine I'll by you chocolate fine!"

"Two chocolates."

"Listen here you little tyrant-"

Mykiel drew in his breath to scream again- but Ezra covered his mouth,

"Two chocolates for the boy! Now go-" And he prodded the boy away. Mykiel skipped along, grinning madly.

@Adorabadass @BlueAjah

Aldric crept up behind the doe, lasso in hand as his father entered the bakery. He could hear the baker's son screaming inside. Now, usually the best place to get a lasso was around the beast's neck, unfortunately this best had it's head shoved into a window. So in this instance Aldric would have to get creative.

He got close enough the the doe that he could easily just grab it, however even if he did keeping that grip would be nearly impossible. So he took the lasso, maneuvering the rope around the doe's leg. Aldric was very meticulous to ensure the beast was unaware of his presence. Finally he looped the rope around it's leg, tying a slipknot to form a loop.

The young ranger pulled the rope tightening the loop around the doe's leg, he dug his heel into the ground preparing for quite the struggle. If it bolted Aldric was going with it.

The doe's eyes widened and it whipped its head out of the bakery window- just as the baker walked in. The man was covered in flour and he smelled of cinnamon. He looked down at his son and then at the ranger- who stood in the room alone. He noted the half eaten baguette on the floor and the baker narrowed his eyes at Farrest,

"You're going to have to pay for that, Farrest."

The ranger sighed and snagged some coppers out of his coat, tossed it to the baker, only to dash out eithout another word.

He ran to where the doe and his son were- and there he found Aldric struggling to hold down one of the does legs at it began to tug away frantically. He feared that the frightened thing would buck his boy in the face- so the ranger held up the sunflower for the doe to see. His tone was soothing and calm as he spoke to it,

"Shh shh- there now- calm down girl." He held the sunflower out to her, "Calm down." With his free hand he unhooked another lasso from his belt and with a quick flick of the wrist managed to get the noose around her neck. A sharp tug tightened the knot- they had her.

But the doe was still frantic. It began cycling through voices as cried out,

"You're going to have to pay for that, Farrest." Over and over. The ranger shot his son a look.

"Alright. I'm disturbed. Lets lead her out of here before I get nightmares." He nodded in the direction of the forest so Aldric could lead them there.

Varric tensed in shock when Gwen hugged him, then grinned.

"Whoa baby, you gotta buy me dinner first," he joked, "But, hey, we should find out more about the flower myths, and there's no one more knowledgeable about the old tales than my dear, sweet mother."

He grinned before glancing over at Laciel.

"And you're welcome as well. As they say, the more the better."

He winked.

"And I shall serenade us as we walk, too," he said, grabbing his lute from his back, "I shall sing the tale of-"

He sneezed. Somewhere, Ezra had made fun of him. He'd get him back later.

"Excuse me. I'll sing a tale of Garn, the legendary Smithknight."

Varric had told Laciel this tale before. It emphasised Garn's legendary ingenuity and intellect, traits Varric knew Laciel would look up to. Varric cleared his throat, before singing.

"In a land of trouble and turmoil,
There was a king no one could foil,
A tyrant whose rage was hot as a coil,
The tyrant named King Doyle.

Well Garn had lived in that land,
And left footprints in the sand.
And he was angry, please understand,
At that viscious tyrant of a man.

So Garn he gathered his courage.
And Garn, he gathered his blades.
And Garn, he gathered his hammer,
And Garn, he showed the king what he made.

And Garn, he got an audience,
With the Tyrant King Doyle,
And Garn, has been told everyday since,
For he popped the king like a boil.

He fell on him with armor,
A most wondrously made device,
Armor that could spew fire,
Armor that could spew ice.

And the tyrant he fought and he fought,
But against Garn the king couldn't win,
And Garn got what he sought.
He gave freedom to his kingdom.

And still. We tell his great story.
He who won with mind and not might.
And his tales may be a bit gory.
But he is Garn the Smith Knight."

"Morning- how is my Ali-girl?" The doctor asked, a small smile smoothing out the wrinkles on his usually serious face. Affection blooms in Alixanna's chest and she crosses the room to plant a quick kiss on her father's cheek.

"It's been weird," The brunette admits as she pulls back and moves to their wood-burning stove. "There was a talking deer in Gareth's garden," she continues conversationally, opening the heavy iron door to the stove and loading more wood to keep the flames going. "And the Ascythenia has been blooming. Guinevere found one on her pillow just this morning. You should have seen her, da. She looked like someone had given her a death sentence,"Alixanna pauses here to prod the logs with a fire poker.

"Apparently Varric has one too," the doctor-in-training wipes her hands on the bottom of her apron, pointedly avoiding eye contact with her father. He's always been good at noticing when she's hiding something, and the medic would really rather not talk about the flower by her door until she could be sure that her mother was out of the house.

Alixanna sets about making tea, humming in approval as Atlas tells her about their house call. The older man begins filling her satchel with the appropriate ointments and medicines, his hands steady as he runs weathered fingers over the various supplies while he debates whether or not his daughter will need them. When he gets to the empty yarrow jar he pauses, before saying, "Seems like we're out of yarrow- remind me to tell Farrest to fetch us some."

"I already told him. Sticklewort too," the girl informs, setting the herbal tea down gently next to her father's elbow, careful not to let any of the mixture slosh over the sides. "Be sure to drink this," Alixanna says firmly, leaving no room for argument in her tone and giving Atlas a meaningful look. She knows the tea probably tastes a lot like old socks and bad eggs, but she also knows his knee has been bothering him, and willowbark is the best thing for joint inflammation. "Aldric is going to stop by later to restock us."

The girl utterly hated when that bit mad faces and moves like that on her but it was something she had gotten used to over time though it had gotten no less irksome to her and her mother. "I swear, that bot is a masochist." the girl grumbled with a heavy sigh as he walked away. She stepped toward her own home, tired but not too much so to make it inside and look through the cupboards for something to drink. Her mother, naturally, had come down after seeing her and set out a loaf of bread with some cheese and meat for a snack before she went to sleep that morning while the town began to wake. She didn't say much before taking her plate with her up the stairs toward the wing of the house that she occupied, her window near a nice tree to shade it though she normally closed to drapes to keep the sun from coming inside while she slept. After a long night like that she needed a good sleep and the sun and noise that the drape blocked would wake her if it reached her.

Illya pushed her door open with her foot and set her plate on the table by the wall while she moved around, hanging her cloak on the hanger not too far from the door before she fell onto her bed and kicked off her boots. That was when she saw the flower bud hanging from her ceiling right above her pillow.

"Are you fucking shitting me?!"

The young woman reached over and picked up a heavy book, throwing it directly at the flower though, the bud seemed to move right out of the way so she missed the stupid thing. She'd heard the legends from the bard at the tavern on the rare nights when she wasn't working and decided to drink the night away, sometimes even speaking with the men who came to their little town in the Vale on their travels. She found it amusing that she was often the first woman for these men to approach, considering that even if she was a rent girl she'd be one of the more expensive ones - they left with empty pockets anyway.

Back to the flower the young woman stared at it, the leaves moving in the breeze from the open window as if they were mocking her though she rolled over and decided to ignore it as she lay out the treasure she had lottery the night before on her bed while eating the food shed brought upstairs with her.

-Laciel Lenssed : Training Grounds-

As the boy stumbled on his words, he flinched as the blade of Guineveres sword almost came into contact with his fleshy face, which wouldn't look good in the long run. It was only a natural reaction to try and move away from an opponent to avoid getting part of your face cut off, but in Laciels case, he would need a few stitches and a concotion from Alixianna. Either way, he avoided any harm yet again as he stared at the sword as it abruptly stopped, his eyes fixated on the girls hand. There was tension still embedded within him, latching on and keeping him on edge.

It was about to get worse in the long run as a random screech struck up behind him.

His next natural reaction was to turn around in sheer animosity with an earpircing city of surprise. This only worsened the boys state of mind as he fell onto his behind, looking up at a triumphant Varric. Laciel felt that he was forced to play the fool, a cad in the situation, not the well mannered scholar he was born as. Even worse was he believed he did something wrong which caused him to ponder on if Varric was mocking him indiscriminately. Even worse was when he decided to try and throw him off with a premature jab involving one of his pranks - ones that costed them time and a tinge bit of money.

At this point in time, he could only wonder in sheer befuddlement to his reason being here as he stared blankly at the two as he pushed himself up, listening to them speak. It only served to make him wonder if he said the incorrect phrase to Guinevere or if he was interrupting their time. Either way, he started tapping the tip of his chin as he continued to listen to the ongoing discussion about botany and the such, specifically about flowers and friendship.

"Specific and peculiar to a degree... Wait, could this flower thing be completely related to the little budding gift I recently received after the two years eve of my fathers departure on such a precarious and suspiciously direct quest. Hmm, if I can recall, there was a tale involving a... a deer and two brothers. The details escape me, but maybe this might be related to the letter? I'll question mother or Varrics mom later... or possibly consign myself to the books co answers."

As the young scholar permitted himself to delving into such inexorable thoughts, he continued to listen to the duo speak. Laciel inconspicuously hid his frown as he turned his head to the side, his ears still attentive just as his flexible mind. He had the courage to stand up and speak his mind to Guinevere, showing how he wasn't afraid to pursue ideal dreams, unlike Laciel himself. He stared at the ground, gritting his teeth, bitter at what he couldn't accomplish.

The boy only felt that this was a massive punch to the gut as he became even more greener at the sight of what he just saw.

Guinevere reciprocated Varrics feelings after his well placed words, even after turning the corrosive speech to Laciel as a way of possibly telling him off into a well mannered confession that tugged at the heart. Why... why couldn't he do what Varric could? This mere shell kept him from making barely any friends aside from the duo in front of him and Illya who had spunk and teased him to a considerable interval, but now he felt it was segregating himself even further from them.

"... Did I ever even... have any sort of chance? Or was it just a mere illusion I wanted to believe in due to my admiration of her?"

Nothing felt right to the boy as his own insatiable wonder garnered him a possible chance to be with her. He understood the girls fears of being chained down, however he knew he could allow her to follow her desires and maybe show her that love wasn't all too disturbing. However, a friend, a contender was able to beat him to the punch.

Varric was able to successfully complete this cycle, causing him to leave his mouth slightly agape at the sight of them hugging before they removed themselves from each other. Maybe his way of thinking this through was skewed and selfish? He did legitimately worry for the girl and her problems, but he felt she shouldn't worry over such a natural thing. He didn't want to deprive her of one of the joys of life but forcing her to a forgone conclusion wouldn't land them anywhere.

The boy regained his composure as soon as Varric began his natural affinity for speaking with flourishing words. The flirt made a jest about taking her out to dinner, acting all cute around her... However, a few words mentioned by Varric did him justice and compiled the questions he given out into a presentable answer. At least that lightened his spirits temporarily before being bogged down yet again.

"More the better, huh? I would feel like an odd wheel interjecting itself into a date if I were to do that. Its already bad enough wondering if I said something incorrect, but inviting me to make matters worse, no... no... thanks."

"I, ah, uhm... I th-think i'll j-just p-pass for n-now. I sh-should probably be h-heading back to the f-forge for n-now, I g-guess i'll s-see you two l-later..."

"..."

"Ah, b-buh-bye!"

With that final timidly placed bye, he power walked away from the scene, pondering on the myriads of possibilities of what they could be thinking of. As he did this, he headed away from his said destination of the forge thanks to a well placed lie. Laciel felt that his mother could cover for him as he prepared some of the weapons ahead of time, just in case anyone stopped by while his mother tended to the shop. He begged to whatever gods existed about her not minding. As he swiftly continued on Laciel felt the need to clear his head and a friend could possibly help him out with this if she still wasn't out on one of her nightly prospects which he feared for her safety.

Laciel could only wonder how she faired as he traversed to Illya and Marideths dwelling - a lonely mansion on the edge of town.

"Whoa baby, you gotta buy me dinner first," Varric joked, "But, hey, we should find out more about the flower myths, and there's no one more knowledgeable about the old tales than my dear, sweet mother." Guinevere softly elbowed him but smiled. No more weird romance between them, all was well and how it should be. Being his mother's son, Varric took the moment to break out in song. Unlike Guinevere, who sang like a screeching banshee, Varric's voice was full of compassion and vulnerability. Singing brought out such an amazing side of Varric. He could make anyone fill up with hope and love just by singing a tune; it was like listening to an angel sing in heaven.

"That was beautiful, Varric. It really was," Guinevere praised him after he finished and glanced at Laciel, who had been so quiet she almost forgot he was there. Varric had invited him to seek out his mother so boldly that Guinevere worried he had frightened Laciel too much.

"I, ah, uhm... I th-think i'll j-just p-pass for n-now. I sh-should probably be h-heading back to the f-forge for n-now, I g-guess i'll s-see you two l-later..."

"..."

"Ah, b-buh-bye!"

"Laciel, wait!" She called out but he had already rushed off. Sighing heavily, Guinevere worried they had upset him. Laciel was never one to express his opinions and let his fears and troubles sit inside him until it all just blew up. Maybe she'd talk with him at a later time. Right now, Guinevere needed to find out what this flower really meant and Varric was correct, no one knew more about legends than his mother.

"Ready?" She asked looking at him and began walking to his home. Wearing full armor, Guinevere didn't even care to change back into her casual clothing. It felt like she was going to face her biggest enemy yet-the flower.

Varric watched Laciel walk away, a bemused expression on his face.

"And here I thought he liked Garn. He usually seems so engrossed when I tell those stories." Varric said, scratching the back of his head. He then shrugged.

"But yea, to the tavern we go!"

He walked in the general direction of the tavern, grinning. This had been quite the stressful encounter, but it seemed like it would work out. Tonight he'd have to work on that string of lovers though. If all else failed, then he'd just enlist Ezra.

Speaking of whom, Varric felt the wind kicking up behind him. He swore for a moment he heard a kid screaming, and he had a feeling someone was nearby.

"Gwen, do you mind laughing loudly while I talk about Ezra's penis size? I think he's watching us. Nature magic."

The Vale is prone to fog in the dead of night. Its a heavy mist that snakes about the knees and sometimes billows up to obscure the view of ones surroundings. Vale mist is green- for it travels through the forest from the bog- and is said to be cursed by the witches that reside there. The townsfolk fear this dark magic- and so lock their houses, seal their windows, and place warding amulets on their doorways. The time is midnight and the town is quiet- as all should be at the hour of evil.

Solitary street lamps attempt to break the mist- to no avail. Their candle-light is almost fairy-like in the dark. This is a night of mischief indeed- perhaps even a malicious act- one that could change the lives of the residents forever.



They both stood there in the dark- listening to the inner workings of room before them. One would think these creatures in-human. For their clothing was black as pitch and their skin covered in a black bile akin to oil. All that showed were the whites of their eyes- dwarfed by their widened pupils. They moved about in utter silence- for that is the way of phantoms- and disturbed nothing in their wake.

An evil magic was at hand here. These creatures, demons or phantoms, were sent here for a purpose. One pushed the bedroom door open- so gently it might have been mistaken for the wind- and approached the bed of their victim. Their partner stood out in the hall- markings on their skin beginning to glow. The phantom by the bed crouched by the sleeping body. They hesitated before leaning over to confirm who it was.

The phantom out in the hall began to make signs with their hands- tracing glowing marks in the air before them- all the while chanting with muted breath. The way their lips moved- one could see she was a woman. The markings- magic runes- glowed a jade green. The spell was for sleep to grip the household- to make their escape easier.

"This one has magic, too." His accent was of the valley (think spanish from Spain). The creatures voice was an assault on the quiet of the room- wounding the silence. His partner was dumbfounded by his actions- they were forbidden to speak in the presence of their victims prior to the curse. Their pact of silence was the only thing keeping them alive.

Before he could disturb them any further he gripped at the victims face- palm under the chin while the fingers viciously closed down from the nose- prevent biting and screams. The black bile then took life and slid off of the demons skin. Like a disease it spread across the nose, mouth, and cheeks- clawing its way down into the eyes and ears. They would feel suffocated and disoriented- unable to open their mouths or eyes.

While the bile took affect the Phantom made quick work to hog tie the victim and toss them over a shoulder. As he walked out into the hall his partner tapped the victims temple- perhaps out of pity- and placed a sleeping spell to calm them down for an hour or so.

~~~

They reached the edge of town- climbing over the lowest point in the stone wall surrounding the village- where a mule and cart sat waiting. The woman spectre turned to her partner,

"My lord- thank you for aiding a woman and her child escape such depraved conditions." She sobbed in perfect gratitude- lest they had been seen.

On cue he replied by settling the victim in the back of the cart on a bed of hay. He threw a blanket over their sleeping body before saying,

"I did only what I hoped another would do for my wife and child in the same situation." Was his reply before departing back behind the wall.

The cloaked woman allowed her hood to fall about her shoulders- revealing a face of inhuman beauty. She walked alongside the mule as they disappeared into the green fog of the Angar.

~~~

Hours later, after the dawn of a new day. After the bewitched mist slunk back into the bowls of the bog. The screams that rose from the clinic were not from an ailing patient. The Doctors daughter had gone missing and no one in all of Vale knew where she was.

The Mayor stood at the front of the room, facing the gathering crowd with a face of stone. This serious, solemn expression rarely found its place on the face of the grand jolly man. But today- in this meeting- he had to inform the village of a heinous crime- one that could tip the gentle balance of peace into fear. By his side stood the Doctor- who had been implored to remain at home- but the man was much too grief stricken not to come to the meeting. His eyes were red and his clothes were carelessly thrown on- he was a man bereft with a sea of emotions- fear, anger, grief and despair.

The crowd before them whispered. Of bandits and black magic. Of the others that had been taken and returned mere shells of themselves. Women were crying- for they grieved for the beautiful young woman that nursed their children back to health. The men were enraged- for they feared for the safety of their own daughters. Young men- no doubt the bulk of them being her suitors- began to pledge their lives for search parties. The Doctor was moved by the love the townspeople expressed for his daughter. For his Ali-girl...

"Thank you for coming today- people of Vale." Began the Mayor, signaling the beginning of the meeting. Obediently the townspeople hushed, all attentive to what the Mayor knew of the situation and his decree to rectify it.

"Last night- while we all slept- Alixanna Ashgrave was taken from her home. How the capturers did this is unknown. Who did such a horrible thing is unknown. From one eye witness we have learned that a couple by a cart departed at an odd hour into the Angar- it is unknown if the cart held goods or in fact our Alixanna.

I implor you, people of Vale, to come foreward with any information that you can provide to make our search easier. We have sent out a search party comprised of the finest rangers to comb the forest for her. They will not stop until Alixanna is returned to the safety of her family.

Many of you have come foreward and expressed your opinions on who could have possibly done this- we lack the evidence for such claims but will keep these suggestions in mind. I, as a mayor, bid no one to risk their lives out in the Angar- but as a father... I would not rest until my daughter was returned to me.

In conclusion- whatever help you may be able to provide would be greatly appreciated. Amassing supplies for those in the search party for their undetermined time out in the forest. Helping the carpenter fortify the walls of our town and the homes that we reside in. A prayer service will be held at the chantry for those seeking solace from such a disturbing occurrence. Prayers to the Ashgrave family would be most appreciated as well. I thank you and, as your mayor, conclude this meeting."

The earlier uneasiness of the town tilted more toward organized panic- they began to rush about and out of the tavern toward places of employment. Some remained behind, seeking any other way to assist the cause or speak with the mayor. The doctor slumped in a chair and looked numbly at the table before him. Marion Dawnleaf settled a frothing mug of ale before him and patted him on the shoulder. She knew the grief of losing a child all too well. For the first time in 8 years the Doctor drank.

~~~

Earlier, up in one of the taverns rooms before the meeting, Ezra sat up in bed. The blanket fell away from him, exposing his naked body. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair and looked about the room. An empty wineskin lay on the floor- accompanied by a bottle or two strewn about across the room. His clothes made a trail around the bed, joined by those of someone else. Through his hazy thoughts memories of the night before flooded his mind.

He shifted on the bed so he faced a sleeping Varric. With his eyes he took in the feminine features of his body- free of the illusion magic used during the day. Gently he leaned down and kissed his shoulder- an affection shared between lovers and not friends. Before slipping out of bed and snagging his pants from their crumpled place on the floor. He tugged these on and tied them about his waist. Humming the tune they'd made up the night before- belonging to a song about a one-legged prostitute who beat the men that wouldn't pay with her wooden leg.

Ezra looked about for his shoes. He found one by the door- where he had thrown it last night when a drunkard came knocking, asking them to quiet down. For the song or the sex- he couldn't remember. In fact there were a number of things he couldn't recall before arriving at the tavern. These lapses in memory were beginning to disturb him.

He turned toward the bed and sat down beside Varric- his bare back to him. The man combed his hair with his hands- he was surprised he still had some considering how hard Varric had pulled his brown curls last night. Let it be known he wasn't complaining- he actually liked being abused.

As he felt Varric beginning to stir again he looked back at him over his shoulder. He tried to be calm- really, he did- but godsdamn he just had sex. So he couldn't help but smile and tilt his head at the other man,

"Morning- sleep well? Please say no. Say that you're sore as hell- I'll love you for it." He joked although lets be honest- not so secretly he meant it.

Varric first stirred partially to consciousness when Ezra kissed his shoulder. Varric felt his heart sort of lurch nervously at the intimacy of it, but sort of shoved those feelings down. He'd suspected for a while Ezra disliked their "no feels just friends with a few fucks" rule for a while. He didn't want to break his good friend's heart, and was nervous to broach the topic yet.

"Nnnnngh," Varric responded, grinning, eyes still closed. He barely opened one hand, and put his palm on Ezra's face, over his nose, mouth and eyes.

"Snooze, set alarm spell for five more minutes," he said, before getting up with a yawn.

He stood up, looking Ezra over. He smiled, "It was a most glorious union of love making. You caused waves of pleasure to roll through my body, through such vigorous and acrobatic skills that epic poems could be written about it. Though I feel like you should be the sore one here. I thought I got all that hair. And I distinctly remember biting you a few times."

He stretched his arms out, before looking at himself in the mirror. In truth, he was a bit sore, but damn had he enjoyed it.

He looked at his body. It was rare anyone saw him without the illusion spell. He actually was very feminine in appearance. He didn't mind, honestly, as he wasn't the manliest man anyways, and even if he had lacked the illusion magic to look like a man he still was one.

That said, he still preferred to look how he felt. Who knows, maybe someday he'd find a permanent solution.

He used the spell, and smiled as pink petals flew about him, and his chest flattened, his hips narrowed, and his face became androgynous.

"You know," Varric said, "Lasy night I learned that the flowers are not necessarily romantic."

Varric paused.

"The Ascythenian legend, that is. That grand old tale of human failure, and yet, human hope. The hope that out there, there is a soulmate for everyone. According to my mom, it doesn't have to be romantic."

He paused again, wondering how Ezra would react to the next bit of news.

"Which is good, since,both my darling Guinevere and I got one, and I swear that if I ever need that woman to fight a dragon, I need only threaten her with marriage."

Aldric stood against the far wall in the tavern, his arms crossing his chest and a deep scowl as if he took a bite of something sour clear on his face. He was dressed in his full ranger garb instead of the simple, linen shirt and leather trousers of the day before. He watched the Mayor give his announcement in silence, his thoughts were far away from the tavern, somewhere in the woods. Aldric knew one thing for absolutely certain. If he didn't try and find Alixanna he would never be able to live himself.

That girl was one of the most knowledgeable, respectable people he had ever met. And despite his icy demeanor Aldric felt some kind of bond with the young physician. What the bond was he couldn't tell, one of friendship if he had to guess. He didn't really know, honestly he really didn't have anybody he considered a true friend. Only his father, Guinevere, and Alixanna got anywhere close. So with those thoughts in mind he approached Doctor Ashgrave who bore the look of a man deprived of his soul.

Aldric placed his hand on the table in front of the doctor, his fierce green eyes burned as he stared the man straight in the eye. "I promise you I'll find her. No matter what it takes." His tone was sharp as a sword with all the weight of a hammer. He knew deep down what his oath might entail. And if that was the price he had to pay, he would do so gladly. "I will find her." He repeated once more before turning to leave the tavern, flicking his hood over his head as soon as he strode into the outside air. Aldric knew from a few villagers he questioned where the cart was seen last night, he also knew there was no way to drive a cart without leaving tracks.

So the young ranger started looking for clues, any thought about the mysterious flower, the events of yesterday, or even what kind of danger might await him was completely washed from his mind as he focused on the task at hand.

When she wakes up the first time, there is a demon over her bed.

Alixanna immediately tries to scream, but the demon is faster, covering her mouth and nose with a slick black hand. The medic thrashes violently against the intruder and tries to pull him off, but his arm is covered in some kind of tar and she can't get a good grip. She tries to dig her fingernails in and at least hurt the son of a bitch, but the creature is unflinching. The demon's eyes bore into hers as the sludge begins to flow into her.

If feels a lot like what Alixanna assumes drowning must feel like.

All of the struggle runs out of the teen and the only thing she can focus on is trying to breathe. Her pulse is hammering in her ears and she can't see anything anymore. 'Calm down,' she tries to tell herself, her chest heaving as she inhales tiny, useless gasps. 'The human body can only go three minutes without air. That's what is going to kill you first.' It's this thought that prompts the doctor in training to inhale deeply against the black bile. 'Not enough.' Her hands flex futilely as she feels herself being moved. Alixanna can't remember where she is anymore. 'Not enough air. I'm going to lose consciousness within the next minute and a half.'

Her calculations must have been off though, because their is a touch against her temple and she blacks out within thirty seconds.

---

When she wakes up the second time, it is to the swaying of a moving carriage. Alixanna tries to move her hands only to realize that they've been bound behind her back. The brunette gives up almost instantly, relaxing against the straw and screwing her eyes closed. The teen has never felt more exhausted or weak.

After she gets her breath back, Alixanna tries to take stock of the situation. 'Still barefoot,' she thinks as she wiggles her toes. 'Still in my nightclothes,' she accesses while shifting against the hay and feeling the familiar cotton texture or her nightgown move against her skin. 'Definitely not decent now. Mum would have a heart attack,' she giggles a little hysterically, on the brink of a breakdown. At least someone put a blanket over her. Thank the gods for small mercies.