Entry Twelve
Planting Seeds
Never do we realize how so fragile a thing life is until some of the smallest things draw our attention to it. I'd tasked myself with gathering more Dravanian Mistletoe for Master Arcmantle, knowing he needed it for the various projects that he was working on. I hadn't really intended to take anyone with me, most of my forays into the wilds have ever been alone. I had very little fear for my safety; years of surviving after the Calamity taught me well the value of stealth and hiding. I made mention of it to Blake Forester and Lieutenant Gwannes Oskwell before I departed, making light of the dragons that wandered the area. It is much to the Lieutenant's credit that he seemed genuinely concerned for my safety and asked if I would prefer an armed escort. It's clear that the safety of our Company is never far from his mind.
Fortunate for me that Blake had already promised me his services, though he was not yet officially part of the Martial Branch. It was with the Lieutenant's blessing, however, that I took Blake out with me after a short wait for him to don his armor. It was rather unexpected, seeing him thus. For some reason, in my mind's eye, I envisioned him to be more of an archer. It never occurred to me he might be something otherwise. Not that it was unpleasant to see; he did make an impressive figure in the golden armor. If anything did choose to attack us, he would certainly draw its attention compared to my drab leathers of Nophica Green. I didn't expect much trouble, though, it was the heat of the day and the dragons usually slept about this time, which is why I chose to go right then. However, Fate seemed to have other plans for us.
The dragons were wakeful and pacing restlessly, barring us from reaching the plant I'd assigned myself with fetching. None of it seemed to bother Blake as he took on and defeated each one that got in our way. Like Irridias, Blake's form and movement were as beautiful as they were deadly. A greater, more lady-like woman might have been afraid or repulsed by the ferocity with which he fought. I could only feel admiration and no small sense of humility. Here he was, putting his life on the line, as I stood by and did nothing, only trailed along in his formidable wake as he won his way through to the plant I'd come in search of. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel how small and insignificant my labors were.
Yet, all it took was to unearth that tiny seedling, taking it into both of my hands and feeling the steady thrum of its aether that I knew my work had value. This plant would go on to serve the Company, providing arms or armor, or alchemical goods. One might think it a waste of effort, certainly unworthy of a man's life to be fought for in such a manner. Was the risk worth the reward? If Blake had come to harm, would I still feel the same?
Blake... He seems so unreadable at times, little more than a shadowed enigma. There are others when it seems almost as if he might open up to me. When I asked after him, tried to ensure that he hadn't gotten caught in the dragons' poison clouds, it seemed to both flatter and confuse him. He assured me, however, that he was well and we took our prize back to the Estate with all due haste.
In the kitchen -- may Chef Vore forgive me -- we transplanted the seedling into a mixing bowl and saw it properly watered. It was during all this that I questioned Blake again, trying to ensure that he hadn't come to harm. Brightest Gods, I could not forgive myself if he had. He reassured me again and asked if a physical examination was in order. I declined, since I have no skill for such things; I'm not Dr. Cooper, nor Miss Menoly, no Nalaarah, or Seiko. I have none of their grace nor skill when it comes to matters within the infirmary. I've come to the realization that, perhaps, my skills lie elsewhere, supporting the Company in those subtle, quiet ways that everyone takes for granted: a warm meal when one is needed, a cool drink for a parched throat, a willing ear when one needs a friend, some wise words when one is troubled. For all my lack, though, Blake said that if he trusted anyone to see to his wounds and tend to him, it would have been me had I the skill. I was both honored and flattered to know I had his trust, though he knew me little.
We parted soon after that; he to rid himself of the armor and I to take the transplanted seedling out to bask in the sun. Yet, no matter how much I tried to keep my mind on the plant, I could only think of one thing.
He trusted me, perhaps with his very life.
Planting Seeds
Never do we realize how so fragile a thing life is until some of the smallest things draw our attention to it. I'd tasked myself with gathering more Dravanian Mistletoe for Master Arcmantle, knowing he needed it for the various projects that he was working on. I hadn't really intended to take anyone with me, most of my forays into the wilds have ever been alone. I had very little fear for my safety; years of surviving after the Calamity taught me well the value of stealth and hiding. I made mention of it to Blake Forester and Lieutenant Gwannes Oskwell before I departed, making light of the dragons that wandered the area. It is much to the Lieutenant's credit that he seemed genuinely concerned for my safety and asked if I would prefer an armed escort. It's clear that the safety of our Company is never far from his mind.
Fortunate for me that Blake had already promised me his services, though he was not yet officially part of the Martial Branch. It was with the Lieutenant's blessing, however, that I took Blake out with me after a short wait for him to don his armor. It was rather unexpected, seeing him thus. For some reason, in my mind's eye, I envisioned him to be more of an archer. It never occurred to me he might be something otherwise. Not that it was unpleasant to see; he did make an impressive figure in the golden armor. If anything did choose to attack us, he would certainly draw its attention compared to my drab leathers of Nophica Green. I didn't expect much trouble, though, it was the heat of the day and the dragons usually slept about this time, which is why I chose to go right then. However, Fate seemed to have other plans for us.
The dragons were wakeful and pacing restlessly, barring us from reaching the plant I'd assigned myself with fetching. None of it seemed to bother Blake as he took on and defeated each one that got in our way. Like Irridias, Blake's form and movement were as beautiful as they were deadly. A greater, more lady-like woman might have been afraid or repulsed by the ferocity with which he fought. I could only feel admiration and no small sense of humility. Here he was, putting his life on the line, as I stood by and did nothing, only trailed along in his formidable wake as he won his way through to the plant I'd come in search of. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel how small and insignificant my labors were.
Yet, all it took was to unearth that tiny seedling, taking it into both of my hands and feeling the steady thrum of its aether that I knew my work had value. This plant would go on to serve the Company, providing arms or armor, or alchemical goods. One might think it a waste of effort, certainly unworthy of a man's life to be fought for in such a manner. Was the risk worth the reward? If Blake had come to harm, would I still feel the same?
Blake... He seems so unreadable at times, little more than a shadowed enigma. There are others when it seems almost as if he might open up to me. When I asked after him, tried to ensure that he hadn't gotten caught in the dragons' poison clouds, it seemed to both flatter and confuse him. He assured me, however, that he was well and we took our prize back to the Estate with all due haste.
In the kitchen -- may Chef Vore forgive me -- we transplanted the seedling into a mixing bowl and saw it properly watered. It was during all this that I questioned Blake again, trying to ensure that he hadn't come to harm. Brightest Gods, I could not forgive myself if he had. He reassured me again and asked if a physical examination was in order. I declined, since I have no skill for such things; I'm not Dr. Cooper, nor Miss Menoly, no Nalaarah, or Seiko. I have none of their grace nor skill when it comes to matters within the infirmary. I've come to the realization that, perhaps, my skills lie elsewhere, supporting the Company in those subtle, quiet ways that everyone takes for granted: a warm meal when one is needed, a cool drink for a parched throat, a willing ear when one needs a friend, some wise words when one is troubled. For all my lack, though, Blake said that if he trusted anyone to see to his wounds and tend to him, it would have been me had I the skill. I was both honored and flattered to know I had his trust, though he knew me little.
We parted soon after that; he to rid himself of the armor and I to take the transplanted seedling out to bask in the sun. Yet, no matter how much I tried to keep my mind on the plant, I could only think of one thing.
He trusted me, perhaps with his very life.