[OPEN/CATCH-ALL] merrily merrily,

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: Myr & OPEN!
When: waves hands vaguely at the month
Where: variously Dorch & Aefenglom
What: some very domestic activities for a faun & eventual catch-all prompts in comments
Warnings: rated B for being COVERED IN BEES


At the Chimera's behest (Dorchacht, early in the month)
i.
"D'you think it needs more bay leaf?"

Having heard that Caren was seeking new pastries to offer Dorchacht's enigmatic black Dragon, Myr's elected to make a go at expanding his own culinary talents. Libum and savillum were the easiest sweet treats he knew, and even if he didn't exactly remember the recipe from last time he'd made either (under Vandelin's watchful eye), they couldn't be that hard to reconstruct, could they? Soft sweet cheese, flour, honey, bay leaves, mix them up and pat them into cakes and bake them, what could go wrong?

A lot of things, it turns out. Starting with them falling apart because he'd used the wrong sort of cheese, and ending Maker only knows where because he hasn't given up on perfecting the things yet. His Bonded and dearest friends have all been lavished with cakes of varying degrees of success; and now he's brought the whole enterprise to Caren's house in Dorchacht to distribute as snacks to all and sundry in hopes of feedback.

So go on, take one. And let him know whether he's put in enough bay leaves this time. (Or, if the idea of a dessert with bay leaves is too alarming, there's another plate of cakes studded with poppyseeds he's been reserving. Not like he'd see if someone snuck one...)

ii.
Myr's time at the Sweet Chimera house isn't all or mostly spent on giving away extra cheesecake; he's here to teach, too. The Coven's recent burst of gardening classes is an inspiration, though it's not potion ingredients he'd teach people to grow--it's food.

Little urban gardens, from his father's in the alienage to the vegetable beds in Hasmal Circle that fell to Myr's care after the uprising, have saved Myr more than once from starving. He's every intention of passing that gift on to as many who'll learn it.

Today he's got a handful of curious Monsters and two starveling humans in attendance as he demonstrates how to pot up zucchini seedlings. The pots he's using are almost comically large for the little plants--something he explains, cheerily: "Don't leave these near anything you don't want covered in vines and marrows. They'll take over your house if you give them an inch."

He's always quick and eager to invite newcomers in, ears swiveling to track the sounds of footsteps or breathing, a bright smile on his face. "Want a pot of your own to take home? They might overrun everything you love but you can't starve with one around."

Oh, for a bee's experience, of clovers and of noon! (Aefenglom, post full-moon)
i.
After another exhausting adventure beneath the full moons, there's nothing so much Myr would like to do as collapse in his own bed a few hours (maybe with company) and then spend the rest of the day working his garden.

He does not even get to his front door before his plans are derailed. By, of all things, one of his beehive's scouts come floating around the cottage on the freshening breeze. Seeing a likely place to stop, she lands on the knuckles of Myr's staff-hand--

And he stops dead in his tracks, ears up and tail flagging with alarm. "Who's there?" he asks, for surely someone snuck up on him, someone with a very small voice who wants to tell him all about flowers and the weather and her pollen harvest...

Oh. Oh.

His staff clatters to the ground. He sits down heavily right there in the street outside the cottage he shares with Caster and Archer, cradling the bee like she's a precious gem. (Which she is.) "I can hear you," he says wonderingly, not caring who might overhear him talking to an insect. "Maker's breath-- After all this time, I can hear you."

He might just cry from the joy--and relief--of finally having magic again.

ii.
If the thoughts of one bee are a treasure, talking to his whole hive is a dragon's hoard, a superabundance of gifts. He'd already loved them--why else struggle as he had to keep them?--and they trusted him, so it's no surprise they're instant friends as soon as they can understand each other.

What's a little more surprising--for outsiders, anyway--is how at least a third of the hive decides to sit on him while they commune and he experiments delightedly with his newfound plant magic. He'd been quick to shed his shirt to give the bees more places to crawl that wouldn't catch them in a fold of fabric--what reason now has he got to fear stings?--though they're mostly festooning his antlers to avoid too much jostling as he works. It makes for a uniquely pastoral sight: A muscular Faun, stripped to his waist, up to his elbows in dirt and covered in bees as he encourages blossoming bee-balm to spring up through the soil.

The bees had requested it, after all. And there was plenty of room in the front garden to grow more.

(OOC: If none of these suit or we've discussed other plans, hit me up via PM or Discord--Plagueheart#0051--and I can add a prompt! Myr is also on the Hungry Grass and Strae quests for the month.)

Comments

At the Chimera's behest II

[spaghettimonster]

Teaching at the Sweet Chimera house is a rewarding experience as it is. But realizing that quite a few others are teaching here, holding classes about all manner of life skills... It's an opportunity he can't refuse. Sure, there's workshops a-plenty in Aefenglom. He'll attend more, sooner or later. But most of those seem to reflect the business holding them, like a sales pitch.

These classes, though, they're taught from the heart. From the passion of the teacher. As is quickly apparent, as Myr begins leading the group through the potting and tending of these zucchini sprouts.

"I didn't know food was so... expansionist," Papyrus comments slowly, peering in at the little sprout. "Farmers have really difficult jobs."

[faithlikeaseed]

Myr grins at the comment where he's helping another Faun pat down the dirt around a seedling. (How awful, to think Dorchacht had deprived one of his own kind the chance to learn this!) "They do that," he replies, amiably. "Expansionist food's not the least of it--though I imagine they'd rather more of it grew as well as marrows do."

Done with the sprout, he sits back on his hooves and feels for the rag he left near-to-hand to wipe the dirt from his fingers. "You'll want to put these outside once there's no more risk of frost," he advises his fellow-Faun--and the rest of the class. "Somewhere the bees can get at it once it starts flowering."

Then, with a grin in the general direction of Papyrus' voice: "And after they've had their way with the flowers, you'll want to pick your marrows when they're so large," he holds his fingers about five inches apart, "so they'll taste best--and for the Maker's sake don't let any of them fall off and go to seed."

There's humor there but also the weary horror a man who had been party to more than one Zucchini Disaster in his time.

[spaghettimonster]

Papyrus looks a little baffled each time Myr mentions 'marrows' in the context of plants. That word has a slightly different meaning for a skeleton. Like as a component of skeletal humor about getting to chores to-marrow.

But he follows well enough that it's a word for one of these plants, and not some very roundabout pun, and only makes faces once or twice.

For the most part, he nods and follows along with the explanation and demonstration, patting down his own dirt with a gloved hand. His claws poke out of it, but it's more for keeping dirt from getting in his joints than covering his paw-hands outright.

"Oh no!!!" Papyrus cries obligingly at the warning. Then, more suspiciously, "what happens if they go to seed."

[faithlikeaseed]

Myr's really missing out on the faces, isn't he? (It's a shame he isn't thinking of the intentional pun factor here; Everett's put him through enough he definitely deserves the chance to make someone else grimace from wordplay.)

At Papyrus' question, the Faun goes mock-sober, dropping his ears and leaning in for emphasis. "Everything," he intones seriously, "is lost.

"We missed a marrow one year in Hasmal. Just one measly little marrow. Six months later we'd vines up the walls to the third story and Enchanter Parsifal's bed was buried in fruit."

Granted, that was Enchanter Parsifal's fault for sleeping in the garden shack, and maybe the other apprentices in Creation had helped the marrow along a little as a prank, but the point remained.

"We had to burn the whole thing--and we still had sprouts the year following. Don't let them go to seed."

[spaghettimonster]

"Oh my god!" Papyrus cries out. Asked and answered.

But whatever he'd expected Myr to say, following such a dire warning, it wasn't a plant doing its darnedest to eat a building.

Plants in the underground don't get so territorial, with the minimal sunlight. Even the worst culprits - the golden flowers, with their sticky seeds - spread through the underground on patches of soil. There's vines here and there on walls in the ruins, but not consuming the place, even after years and years.

"Six months... Were they made with plant magic?? Should we put warning signs near these???"

Come to think of it, hadn't some hedges grown up overnight, for a full moon once?

bee's experience, i

[bloodwit]

Viren stops in what he's doing at the noise of the clatter (having been on his merry way to Everett's home, likely), his gaze flicking distractedly towards it source. It's when he realizes who's responsible for it—and misses any needed contextual dialogue—that his eyes grow wide. He approaches, his steps quick, to halt at Myr's side.

"Myrobalan...?"

This is followed by a sharp frown, brows knitting in perplexity. He doesn't look hurt, and Viren succeeds in keeping his voice level, but—

"Are you all right—?"

[faithlikeaseed]

Those comically large deer ears swivel in Viren's direction at the sound of footsteps; dimly, Myr realizes that his sudden slump might have been alarming to a bystander. Though it's hard for him to be much upset at the idea, given his current elation, he's got an explanation already on his tongue as whoever-it-is approaches...

It's derailed when Viren speaks up. "Viren! More than all right--I can hear her!"

He holds up the bee for emphasis, grinning from ear to ear. "I've got magic again!"

A small kind of magic, but magic still.

[bloodwit]

Viren's peers at him for a moment longer, bewildered as he processes that (especially with the bee thrust into his line of vision, like the insect's appearance should mean something). And then it does click — oh!

"That..."

He's frozen for a moment. It's inexcusably selfish, he knows, to see Myr so clearly elated: to only feel his heart plummet with jealousy. And then it's puzzling, feeling as if he's lost another's empathy. Worse, yet, which he refuses to act upon (at least, not in this happy moment): this wouldn't be anywhere near to the magic capabilities he once knew, and that he should dig in, to remind the elf of this —

He closes his eyes, opens them. There's an exhale of air; relief, probably, at the affirmation.

"—That's wonderful to hear." This is followed by a very slight smile. "I wonder, how a whole hive would sound...?"

[faithlikeaseed]

It dawns on Myr only after he's blurted out his joy exactly what he's said, and to whom, and for a moment that bright and open expression on his face wavers. Maker's breath, had that sounded too much like bragging?

At the same time: Did it do either of them any good for him to deny it and pretend he wasn't elated to have this piece of himself back? Were their situations reversed, would he want not to be told to spare him hurt? (And it would hurt, he knows. He'll never be quite inured.)

Too much thinking. "I do, too--I mean to find out straightway." He pauses briefly, then asks shyly, "Would you care to join me? I'd like to introduce you to them."

Bees, ii

[wylderrant]

Iramaat hasn't seen much of Myr since he helped drag her out of the festering hole that she'd been imprisoned in. ANd unlike him, her antlers are still regrowing - still just stumps. She's fortunate that they didn't grind them entirely down to the skull - that might have done some permanent, lasting harm. As it was it was still deeply unpleasant having them sawed off. She hasn't actively avoided him, but she also has been very wrapped up in her own nonsense.

Not to mention her lack of a bonded, so the full moons tend to be anxious, stressful times for her.

Still, the garden is lovely and she finds herself more at peace when she's amongst nature. She was in her old life as well, but this was something else. A deeper sort of connection. She's even started learning how to talk to animals! Wonderful, that. She slips in and settles alongside him. And, well, her gaze does linger, because she's very appreciative of the muscles she can see.

"Myr! How are you?"

Her ears twitch.

[faithlikeaseed]

Nor's Myr heard much of Iramaat, though he has remembered her to the Maker and Andraste in that time since their last harrowing encounter. Between his own two Bonded and all their attendant troubles, and all the projects he keeps taking on--large and little--he's had less time than he'd like to spend checking in on his own friends...

But sometimes circumstances work out to obviate that. His ears twist round at the sound of footsteps in his garden, audible over the hum of the bees, and he sits back on his haunches with a bright smile for Iramaat's general direction as she joins him. "Better than ever," he tells her warmly, "moreso now that you're here. How've you been, Iramaat?"

A few of the insects decorating his antlers take off to investigate her, slow and lazy and unthreatened by the new presence. She's a friend, after all.

[wylderrant]

Iramaat settles down next to him, watching as the bees begin to drift over to investigate her. Her lips spread in a little smile. She has always appreciated nature - here it's a little different. Like something else has woken up inside of her recently. She stretches a finger out and lets a bee land on it, watching it curiously.

"...as well as expected, I suppose," she allows after a moment, trying to put a little more cheer in her voice than she feels, "Dealing with the aftermath. You know how it is. Trying to keep busy and avoid going stir-crazy and also trying to find a new bond..."

She shakes her head, "So... busy, I suppose."

[faithlikeaseed]

Connecting with Talam's wilderness--even the little bits of it one could keep in a garden--is and isn't like Myr's connection to the Fade back on Thedas. Yet the strangeness is as much of a delight as the familiarity; that he can hear the bees in a way he never had before, and they him, is pure wonder. He tips an ear the better to listen to the one scout exploring Iramaat's finger, quite unable to keep a touch of awe from his face.

This may not be exactly what he was Made to do, but it fills the same need.

"...I do know," he allows, after a moment--because while he'd never been kidnapped and tortured, dealing with the aftermath is achingly familiar. Not even really thinking about it--because Iramaat's herd, even if they don't spend so much time together--he leaves off his digging and shuffles over on his knees to sit next to her, and offer her a side to lean on.

"How that is. Maker, and without a Bond, too?" Thinking of how the previous night might've gone for her makes him flinch. "Have you any prospects? Or would something temporary do until you've got some?"

Chimera II

[lyriumburned]

Fenris' footsteps are soft but possibly distinct. Even with so many monsters, most did not walk around barefoot unless they had hooves. He spots Myr and decides to say a quick hello. He smirks as he'd offered a pot before he can greet him.

"A pot of my own?" He echoes, amusement clear in his tone, "I've can honestly say that I don't think I've ever grown anything in my life. It would be a waste to give one to me.

Have you been well?"

[faithlikeaseed]

"Fenris!"

Those barefoot footsteps really might become a giveaway, in time, though for now it's the other elf's voice Myr brightens to hear. (Having a little piece of home around in the form of another person--makes so much of a difference.)

"Never a waste or a bad time to learn to grow things, if you never have before. You're certainly as welcome to one as anyone." Half-joking, he nudges the pot he's just finished in Fenris' direction. Now that the lesson's largely finished, his other students are departing--one or two with curious looks or shy smiles for their instructor's friend.

"I have," been well, "praise the Maker. And yourself? Settling in?"

[lyriumburned]

"Hmm..." He doesn't exactly sound convinced, though he does take the pot Myr hands him, frowning at it as he turns it in his hand.

"What do you suggest for something this size? And I'd need dirt, eh, soil, wouldn't I?" He really couldn't see this going well but he didn't have the heart to completely turn down the gift.

Not that Myr can see, but Fenris seems oblivious to the one or two looks he gets, practiced ignorance, a habit that he hasn't quite managed to break since arriving.

"Yes, I suppose. The recent rain hasn't been kind to the housing I chose but it's livable..." He artfully sidesteps mentioning himself but he'd recently had to start filing down his nails nearly every day as they began to curl into sharpened talons. He'd also woken to find the odd down feather or two though he couldn't quite figure out where they were coming from. He really wasn't ready for this yet.

march was a MONTH and i'm so sorry it took me so long to get back to this

[faithlikeaseed]

"Something that size--well, where are you living right now?" There's a calculating look on Myr's face now that Fenris has accepted the gift; there is nothing this Faun loves quite so well as an opportunity to meddle in others' gardening. The more who've got the opportunity and means to grow things for themselves, the better, in Myr's humble estimation.

...That it's also an excuse to inquire about why Fenris is getting rained on in his chosen location, well. Myr may also be inclined to meddle in others' well-being, too.

"If it's somewhere liable to flood or get rained in, we might need to find you somewhere healthier to keep your marrow," he adds, teasing. "They don't like having their feet wet enough to rot."

Nor should anyone, really, but Myr well knows there's some folk you can't approach with direct concern. Whether he's judged rightly or wrongly, the other elf does give him that impression.

Chimera's behest I

[showsnopiety]

"No, I think this may be the right amount of bay leaf." Caren just just come by to check on how things were, and well-see if it would be a good idea to make this into a part time or full time sort of school. She'd have to ask around for funding, but it wouldn't be a terrible idea.

But some of the ideas that people came up with were...interesting.

"...You've made this before, yes?"

Please don't be experimenting on these poor people. Their stomaches.

[faithlikeaseed]

Having Caren herself come to sample his humble efforts is, well. Myr's visibly pleased, even if she seems a little skeptical about the bay leaves. "Twice today," he replies to her question, one corner of his mouth turned up at his own literalism. "And once yesterday, three times the day before that, and... You know, maybe twenty times over the whole week? I'm trying to get them right."

On that note, he breaks off a piece of the cake he's sharing samples from and pops it in his mouth. Hm. Maybe that just the right amount of bay.

(If he's experimenting on anyone, at least he's including himself in the study.)

[showsnopiety]

It's like she's the big boss or something! Which is...pretty funny, thinking of it. But hearing that he's made it before made her hum, and peer down at the cheesecake with less doubt, more pensive.

"That's good. But I will say as a rule of thumb: if you're not sure, don't add more. You can add more if the taste is too faint later. But if it's too strong, there's little you can do with a cake."

But seeing the samples...and being a gremlin, she took up a sample in her hand, feeling the texture.

"Say ah." She's gonna feed him a sample before taking one for herself.

[faithlikeaseed]

(She'll always be the big boss of his heart. Or the part of his heart that immediately latched on to her as authority in the absence of an actual Chantry Sister.

His heart's a dork.)

His ears perk up at her advice; he chews his lower lip a moment, considering it. "S'pose I should've thought of that," he finally avers, "would've saved me the ones I had to give to Everett's rats."

The cakes are nicely dense and spongy, almost more of a bread. And Myr, dear (deer) thing, looks gently puzzled at the instruction but obliges: "Ah?"

Get him!!

bees, ii.

[ressusciter]

He walks in different places for the luxury of it, the times it allows him to stretch his legs and experience the city. What he doesn't expect to encounter while going in a different direction than normal is the sight of a Faun covered in bees - surely, there's been so much magic to view that this shouldn't be alarming, and yet. They seem utterly ignorant of this.

It's the bewilderment that makes him call out, a little ways away from the garden.

"I've seen hives made before, but never upon another's head."

It's the politest way to say things.

apologies I'm tardy on replying to this one!

[faithlikeaseed]

One of Myr's ears perks up beneath its burden of bees, swiveled toward the sound of footsteps. That little advance knowledge keeps him (mercifully) from jumping and dislodging the entire swarm when Dantes speaks up. And--the Faun grins to hear it, not lifting head or hands from what he's doing, though both ears are now turned entirely toward the Turnskin.

"Oh, they're just being company. I'd be a poor hive, I expect, prone to moving around as I am."

There's a moment's pause as he realizes (head-knowledge, not heart-knowledge) how this might look to an outsider; the visceral fear many people had for large swarms of stinging insects wasn't unfounded, and all that. "Not to worry, though; they're calm as anything and months from swarming."

Just in case this is one of his neighbors worried about a hive taking up residence in an attic or something. Always paid to be reassuring!

...while covered in bees.

no rush!

[ressusciter]

"As long as you're sure they're content. It's not them swarming that has my thoughts, but your own health."

Of the many subjects he had studied and pursued, the temperament of bees was not among them.

"Is that usual for them, then, to be so relaxed around their...company?" His tone shifts to something genuinely curious - given all that was different in this world, that the bees themselves would be different isn't so far fetched. But he's always been someone open to learning more about things, whatever the subject may be.

haha, some lack of rush 8[ march was sure a Month & i'm sorry

[faithlikeaseed]

"Ah--and I thank you for that consideration, messere," Myr replies, with a smile, as he sits back on his hooves. This row of beebalm is finished and rooting nicely; time to move on to the next--or break for conversation, as the case may be. He's still a moment, thinking, before reaching out to feel out a cloth he'd left nearby to wipe the dirt from his hands.

"As for their demeanor, I expect they'd be cautious as usual around anyone but me. They're a hive of mine from home; we knew each other well before we both ended up here. Though I don't think we'd be quite so cozy as this if I couldn't talk to them."

Which continues to be a delight and a wonder; it's there in how he says the words.