[P] [M] A fine time for a visit
#3
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[+500]


The door swung open rather quickly, very nearly causing him to need to dodge out of the way. He stood his ground and before him was Fennore, in a state that he hadn’t seen her in before. The surprise was mutual it seemed, though hers perhaps exceeded his anticipation. As she rather curtly asked about his presence, Bellad wondered to himself if perhaps, should he be offered a chance to trade away his skills at healing for the skill of not showing up at a bad time, it would be worth considering. What’s more, he finally started to get an inkling of just what he’d been smelling.


Oh by the Myriad Spirits no.


“I-…”


Greetings? What greetings? He was by no means vindictive enough to omit pleasantries solely to treat Fennore equally. But he was certainly given pause. Flowers, he vaguely remembered. Pleasant smell. This one was pleasant to a different part of him, faint as it was. Fabric did only so much to obscure it. Although if anything it at least showed Fennore wasn’t being open about it. Not that nature would ask her permission, or his for that matter.


“…-just wanted to show you something.” His mouth said just as he thought ‘I should come back another time’ would be perfect for this situation. The unreleased phrase lingered in shock at his mouth’s audacity then headed off to whatever afterlife missed opportunities end up in.


Really though? It was well enough she even opened the door for him. To drag her out of there right now would probably be nothing short of cruelty. So the healer stood before her, dumbstruck for a time, then suddenly realized he wasn’t saying anything and she had no idea just what it was that he wanted to show her.


“There are these flowers, you see...” Maybe he should have brought her one of the flowers after all. Or maybe he should have forgotten about the flowers by now. But no, he tried to force himself through the rest of the explanation. “They uhm… emerged… recently, they smell very…” Very nearly as enticing as she did right now. He trailed off again, the ever dutiful internal critic now casting into question his powers of speech, his sense of timing, his general intelligence and gradually expanding to more venues of spectacular failure, all based solely on this one encounter.


“That is to say…” His tone grew steadier now as he mustered some composure. If he could just pretend she was a subject of healing, remember his teachings. Thinking back to how he was told he was to ignore fears or urges when treating someone’s condition. No time to consider your attachments or reservations – just the vessel of life that needed your mending. Mattered not if the vessel was attractive. Had he not succeeded in feeling impassive during treatment before? Ah yes, but never against this intensity.


‘At least find it in you to finish talking without bumbling like an utter fool!’


“… I can see that you are not… in the mood for a walk around now, so perhaps there will be another time to show them to you.” Good, he felt he was steering this elsewhere, somewhere where he wouldn’t appear to be forcing something on her. That is, aside from the need to respond, whether to dismiss him or otherwise follow through with their conversation.


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