Where the wild roses grow

Alaine Winters · 04-01-2010, 05:15 AM

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table © Alli
ooc: thanks for starting! sorry for mammoth post :x<3

Morning came soft and sweet to the lulled land below, and sweet bird tunes were herald to dawn as it spread probing fingers of gold across the cool blue sky. As usual, the Chien Hotel resisted the warm light, preferring instead shadows in which to steep it's rotting wooden boards and crumbling stone braces. But the grumpy old building had no choice but to relent, albeit reluctantly, to the round golden eye of the sun.

From within her tangle of warm sheets, the slender Fae stirred. She had always been an early riser, more so than most; this time, when night still clung like traces of charcoal to the blushing heavens, was when her soul felt most peaceful. But this morn' even Alaine, the newly appointed Cour des Miracles Apothecary, had trouble with the insistent presence of day. Her lashes fluttered resistantly as the young collie-woman rose to a sit, swinging her dainty footpaws to the ground. Perched thus aside the bed, Alaine rubbed at her brilliant emerald eyes blearily, before rising in silence. As usual, she followed a morning ritual of collecting the leather satchel that hung always close at hand, slinging it over one shoulder till it bumped pleasantly at her hip. Next, she peered in on her son and somewhat adopted daughter, and satisfied that the two would remain asleep for some time yet, the healer continued down to the first floor of the creaking old building.

Immediately, a strange scent alerted her to the presence of another. Time had scabbed the raw wounds of her past and made the young woman complacent, and so she felt none of the fear that would have struck her frozen at the thought of a stranger in her den - Many experiences had told her that other pack members were want to wander in through the rusted iron gate as it pleased them. What troubled her, rather, was that she had not seen to the stranger the night before, as she usually did - Alaine had become somewhat of the inn-keeper for the weathered hotel, and prided herself in offering those who came to stay as much comfort as she could.

Padding softly down the hall, she peered in first to the room that held the most scent. It was the main chamber, and the hearth still glowed with pulsing embers that would have been aflame the night prior. A small frown dimpled her pretty features as the young woman took note of the chair, the book, the blanket. Surely, someone had not slept in there when they could just as easily have claimed one of the many rooms upstairs? Shrugging, though no one was nearby to see her, Alaine continued on her way. It seemed as if the stranger had come and gone, in any case, leaving naught but the sweet feminine scent of the holder behind.

Alaine's next stop was the hook beside the entrance, where-upon hung a long red cloak. Her collie was not as long, nor as thick, as those of the native wolves, and as such winter had been brutally cold. She had relied upon adorning her own cream and ivory fur with makeshift clothing, though the red cloak was certainly her favorite. Though the air was less brittle this morning, she donned it anyway, tying the red sash neatly at her throat so that the thick copper material settled over her slender shoulders. She did not bother to pull up the hood, preferring instead the sweet rush of awareness that struck her as she stepped outside and into the cooler climate.

This morning was one of many she had dedicated to her craft - As a healer, she required many different herbs, flowers and other foliage to make into poultices and supplements and all sorts of things. Winter had been hard on her stocks, and as such, the Apothecary was in dire need of many new supplies from the slowly growing forest. Neatly avoiding the pools of melted frost and cautiously hopping over slick traces of ice, the young lady swung out the gate and closed it behind her with a click. Her footpaws were near silent on the path as she headed down towards the tree-line, but peripherals caught sight of a figure nearby, and she paused. The stranger was clearly female, and brought with her that sweet scent from the Hotel. Fixing a pleasant smile on her maw, Alaine moved up behind her, following the other's gaze undetected to the scattered brush beyond.

" Rosa Gallica."

Because her voice had broken the silence, she took a step back, and smiled gingerly, perhaps expecting the other to rouse on her for sneaking up like that.

" It's a French rose. The petals are perfect for making scented broth."

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