01.27.09 - Snowdrop

Location: Redwall Pond, Infirmary

Characters Involved: Tameus, Sivaine, Edgar, Harper

Dusk is falling over the pond, and Sivaine is just heading in from a long day of training. And they've only been getting longer, now that the solstice has passed and the hours of light are lengthening towards summer. Something's given her pause at the edge of the pond, though; leaning on her practice staff, which has become increasingly weighted, she's crouched to examine something in the lee of the flat rock stretching over the pond.

"Whadda y' lookin' 't?" Tam asks, appearing seemingly out of nowhere behind Sivaine. He is a sneaky, sneaky little thing, dressed in his cloak and scarf and gloves, a wayward snowflake quivering on the end of a whisker on the left side of his muzzle.

Sivaine turns her head slightly, glancing back at the leveret. "Spring," she answers, and gestures toward a spot in the snow, which has settled and melted and refrozen into a crunchy, watery crust. Here, though, something's poking through - little green blades and delicate bell-like flowers, pure white.

Tameus's nose twitches as he crouches, peering at the little plant. "C'n I pick 't? I wann' give 't t' da'."

"If you pick it, it won't last long," Sivaine considers. She reaches out and brushes one of the blooms, causing it to waver on its stalk. "You could show it to him here? Or plant it in a pot?"

Tameus tilts his head a little. "Pot. I wann' give 't t' 'im .. an' I wan' 't t' stay 'live f' 'im. Keep 'im comp'ny."

"A pot, then," Sivaine agrees. "You know what this one's called?"

Tameus shakes his head.

Sivaine tilts her head to the side, considering the little plant. "Snowdrop. It's one of the first to come out - you won't see more for some time." She straightens up with the help of her staff. "So what are you doing out here, then? It's getting dark." She shivers slightly, cooled by her drying perspiration.

Tameus stays crouched, eyeing the snowdrop with a little smile. He glances up at Sivaine. "Came t' fin' y'. I wann' story. Tried t' get Darc' t' tell me one but she jus' looked 't me funny."

In a room page-pose, Sivaine goes for the bell, book and candle. Time for some midnight reading to the pleasant sounds of the glockenspiel.

"Iii think you're a little young for Darcy's stories," Sivaine says, lifting a brow. "Even if you are precocious." But she smiles, a little wry quirk that turns into something gentler. "Good timing. Inside? We can find a pot, maybe heat some cider."

Edgar materializes out of the black of the night. the daylight may last longer now, but not this long. Green beryl eyes observe Sivaine and her companion from a distance. She has not been in the abbey for qite some time, but she doesn't think anybeast has noticed.

Tameus smirks up at Sivaine. "'m n' s' youn'," he informs her. "'m leavin' soon an' th' nex' time y' see me .. 'll be taller'n /y'/. Maybe."

Sivaine snorts amusement, eyes half-lidding. "Maybe. You've got a ways to go yet.. and I might be seeing you sooner than you think." The mouse reaches up, tugging her cloak from where it's slung over her shoulder into a more insulating position. "Maybe the second time I see you, or the third."

"Guess we'll see!" Tam says with a grin, then glances down at the flower again. "... I don' 'member 'ow tall m' firs' da' was. So's I d'nno 'ow tall 'm gonn' be."

Edgar slinks closer to the two, her head tilted as she watches with feline curiosity. I winter spent with herself seems to have recharged her wierdness battery. She blends in with the snow and the night, an immaculate white robe draped over her normal clothes. Her footpaws are still bare, and so there is no crunching sound of snow as she pads up behind the mouse, paws clutched around her collar.

Sivaine grins back. It's hard not to. "Well. My mother? Like this." Sivaine holds her hand out at what would be head level for a female mouse of average height. "..and I just kept growing." There's a very faint trace of residual annoyance, faded to dry humor. "You'll be exactly the right height for who you are, I think." She's yet to notice Edgar; her back is to those twin green lamps, and her focus on the leveret.

Tameus tilts his head in a smiling sort of way. "Well I wann' be 's tall 's m' da'. M' real da'. E'eryone thinks we look 'like a'ready, migh' 's well grow up tall 's 'im, righ'?"

"Your real da'?" Sivaine asks, twitching her whiskers at a slight breeze.

"'Arper," the leveret supplies.

Edgar ducks her head down just as it pokes out from behind the mousemaid's figure, bending so her head is level with the paw indicating height. One forgets how small mice can be." She mutters in a low, pleasant tone, smiling unblinkingly. "I don' think a hare has to worry about height, my friend." her tail swishes, snow clinging to it as she brushes the ground.

Aha. Sivaine nods comprehension. "They're /both/ your real da's. But you know that." She offers a paw down to him. "Well, he's- geh." Blink. Her eyes shift sideways. There's suddenly a head under her hand, like some bizarre conjuration trick. "..Edgar," the mouse remembers after a moment, caaarefully pulling her paw away.

Tameus reaches for Sivaine's hand, and blinks curiously as the cat .. appears. Huh. He peers at Edgar and then his mouth quirks into a typically friendly smile. "H'lo there!"

Sivaine says, "I haven't seen you around for some time."

Edgar smiles to Tameus, and then Sivaine, and then Tameus again. "I do tend to be itinerate..." She contemplates, waving at the leveret. "But i forget that most here are of a more sedentary breeding...And this new friend you've acquired...Certainly he's a much respected member of the Long Patrol." She winks. To whom, it is unclear.

Tameus's nose twitches. "N' /yet/," he states, then glances at Sivaine. His splinted fingers squeeze at hers. "An' 'm not 'er /new/ frien'. 've know Siva f'rever!"

"..well. What with the owl and the plague, I've been a bit tied up here." Sedentary? Oh ew. And- aww. Siv squeezes back - very gently - with a little smile down to Tam. "He's close to it. Got the connections, certainly.. oh, and the uniform." She grins. "This is Tam. Tameus. Tam, this is Edgar. She draws, like Ardice."

"H'lo Ed'ar," Tam says with a smile, and slides his hand from Sivaine's grasp. "'m gonn' go get a pot," he tells her.

"Get a trowel too. A little scoop?" Sivaine calls after him.

Tameus nods, and trots off.

Edgar smiles and waves once more at the departing beast. She turns slightly to Sivaine. "Well then, it seems that I'm the new one...although that is usually the case, isn't it?" It takes a while for the news to sink in. "Hmm?It seems I've dodged an illness, eh? She smiles, not knowing enough about social protocol to appear sympathetic towards the victims. "I have more luck than I deserve."

Not that Sivaine stands on social protocol much. "By the skin of your teeth, I should say. It was bad for a while, but quarantine ended a few days ago and the goldenwort from Southsward's bringing the fevers down. There should still be cake from last night," she adds as an afterthought. "Funny. I'm not used to being one of the 'old ones.'"

Edgar stick her tongue out and flattens her ears. "They made a cake out of the medicine?" She's horrified by the thought of, say, a valerian cake. "Certainly you are not...you are just more acquainted with beasts. Cats are generally of an entisocial nature...one exception being that tom with the large ears...is he still around by chance?" She asks, wondering.

Sivaine looks patently horrified by the idea. "I shouldn't think so. All the other parts of it are horribly poisonous. But there was a celebration, and the cake.. well, my sister certainly made it /look/ like the plant. Almond paste and syrup. She's taken to the kitchens." She flicks her eyes skyward for a moment in fond exasperation. "Viscus.. I think so. He ought to be.." The mouse furrows her brow faintly, considering.

Edgar thinks. "Hmmm, celebratory vittles. she glances in the direction of the kitchen. "And how is your sister taking to the abbey? I must say I do not know her as well as you, however little i know you."

"Like a fish to water. She's staying here." It's been pretty much decided, from the sound of it, and there's a note of.. something in Sivaine's tone. She fishes in an inside pocket of her cloak, drawing out a ring she slips back on her finger in a sort of idle way. "It's been an interesting winter. And you.. just passing through again?"

Edgar nods. "I suppose. It is increasingly difficult to hunt and scavenge knowing that this place exists and welcomes me." She says, althogh she says it with some annoyance, why is unknown. Suddenly she beams and rests her head on Sivaine's shoulder. "And of course what would I do without your wiserly ways, My dear?!"

"There's something about it that.. draws beasts, it- ..uh." Sivaine gives Edgar a look out of the corner of her eye, turning her head just enough that the cat isn't a black blob in her peripheral vision. "What you.. usually do?" she manages. "Since I've yet to impart much wisdom to you, or anyone for that matter."

Edgar straightens up, looking content but a little disheartened. "I told him sarcasm does not fit me, and it is not a drawing to the abbey so much as to it's food. Company and containment I can easily do about."

Sivaine quirks a brow. "Him?" she asks, mildly curious. Or confused.

Edgar waves a paw. "Oh beasts. Him is another beast. please, do not place any significance on the fact that he is male...So what is it that draws /you/ here, Sivaine? if indeed you insist on it's mystical powers of attraction."

"No significance made, then. And I don't insist - although the way this winter's been going, I'm piling up enough improbable circumstances to last me a lifetime. Heh," Sivaine mutters, rotating the ring with little brushes of her thumb. "Here? Food and winter shelter. As for staying, a broken arm and the disease."

Edgar nods, not having noticed the injury. "hmmm, that would slow a beast down..." She falls into quite, looking about at the snow. "Quarentine....should I be worried?" She doesn't sound as if she is either way, in her low dreamy voice

It's not very noticeable, unless feline eyes can pick out the quartet of scars on Sivaine's left arm. "No, I wouldn't be. It's lifted, and things are passing. I would keep clear of the infirmary; there may be a few lingering cases, but besides that, things are returning to what passes for normal." The mouse twitches her nose and draws her cloak around herself.

Edgar does however catch the subtle gsture. "Are you cold? I'm quite happy in robe and winter fur, but I daresay you are not built the same as I...Inside, perhaps?"

"I'm fine." Sivaine shakes her head. "Tam'll be back for the snowdrop in any case."

Edgar nods. "Right. Tam. What's tam like?" She asks,tilting her head a bit and clasping her paws behind her back.

"Tam is.." This is a good question. "Tam. A handful." That's the best way to put it, but it's said fondly. "He came here about the time of the owl-" Sivaine glances at Edgar briefly; was she here for that? "-and Brother Harper ended up adopting him. He'll be going off to join the Long Patrol come spring. Well. Spring's come. So, soon. When they leave."

Edgar blinks. "My friend all senses point otherwise. Perhaps someone of limited seasons like me is inexperienced in these maters, but I do believe it is winter." She says, doing her best to sound like a prim sister of the abbey.

"It /looks/ like winter," Sivaine agrees. "But it's coming. You can feel it - the air's.. newer. And there's snowdrops cropping up here and there. The year's turning."

Edgar flicks an ear, severly doubting that it's physically possible for a year to turn. But she says nothing. "I see....." Suddenly her ears perk and her tail twitches. She turns to Sivaine. "I've been told it's impolite to do this, but i can't stand it anymore. How old are you?"

'Uh.' Sivaine's expression clearly says this, but she manages to hold the actual sound in this time. "I should be twelve seasons or thereabouts. Why do you ask?"

Edgar's facial muscles relax and she smiles. "Hmmm, that must be nice..." She turns away and seems to get lost in thought for a moment. "Oh yes! I mean, that is, to be of some age."

Sivaine blinks. And blinks again. "Nice to be.. getting old?"

Edgar waves a paw. "Oh stoppit. Everybeast is always getting old."

"True enough," Sivaine considers. "Strange a feeling as it is. I'm going to be gray and wrinkled some day." Ear twitch.

Tameus has someone gotten whiter on his quest for a pot and shovel-thingy. He is dusted over with snow, like a powdered donut, and carries one in each hand as he heads back toward the pond where Sivaine and Edgar are still located.

Edgar pouts at Sivaine's complaints. "At least you'll know what it is..." But trails of before she can clarify. "Ah! The knave returns!"

Sivaine tilts her head, giving Edgar a curious look to say the least, and opens her mouth to say something, but then Tam returns. "Find things, Tam?" the mouse asks, moving forward to intercept him and lift! Or try to. He's getting heavy.

Tameus tilts his head a little at Edgar, then looks up at Sivaine. "What's a knave?" He smiles at her, displaying the pot and trowel he holds. "I got in a figh' wit' th' Snow Kin' on th' way back. 'e came back t' life. Then I killed 'im 'gain."

"That explains the snow. And it's like a scamp," Sivaine defines with a grin. Aw, Tammy. "Shall we?" She holds out a paw for the trowel, leaning on her staff.

"Well 'm a ver' /cute/ knave, then," Tam decides, and shakes his head. "I c'n do 't. Pu' m' down Siva."

Sivaine is happy to oblige; the leveret's starting to slide out of her grip anyway, and her body is starting to demand sleep, or at least a chair to rest in. "Mind your fingers. The ground's still hard," she warns, though she doesn't intervene for now.

Tameus gets onto his knees and sets the pot down. With both splinted hands he grasps the handle of the trowel and digs the tip into the cold dirt, working it in, carefully shoving it down in a few spots around the base of the little plant until he can lift it, and a good clump of dirt, free of the ground, to transfer into the pot.

Edgar scurries forward to watch the process, tail curling into a curious S shape. The flower catches her idle fascination. "A shame one must make a pck mark in the earth to call such beauty one's own." There is a pause and she sighs. "Of course I suppose in spring this will all be mud and it won't matter either way..."

Sivaine watches, propping herself upright with her training staff. There's enough moonlight that things are more or less visible, though cast in a blueish hue, but she squints and keeps a careful eye out for reinjured fingers, sharp rocks, vermin hordes, or toads raining from the sky. You never know.

Tameus glances up, and gives Edgar a small frown as he lightly pats down the soil in the pot, making sure the plant is sitting upright at the right angle. "S' f' m' da'," he explains.

Edgar nods. "And it is indeed a worthy prize for him." She agrees, her paws pulling the robe tighter, the material swelling around her skirt.

It /is/ getting cold out, though. The heat of the day's faded away to nothing, leaving the chill of ice and night. Sivaine pulls her hood over her ears and twitches a fold of cloth over her face. "It'll do well in the warm," she tells Tam. There's a hint here, which she clarifies with "Cider and then we'll find him?"

Tameus stands up and lifts the pot carefully in his injured hands, hugging it a little in toward his chest. "I wann' fin' 'im firs'. Bu' y' c'n get us cider while I do?" this is suggested with a smile as he goes to head back toward the front of the abbey building.

"Mm," Sivaine considers, narrowing her eyes just slightly. "All right. Edgar? Cider?" she offers, keeping an eye on Tam as he departs.

Edgar Tilts her head towards Sivaine in the alien sort of way. Perpleaxed emeralds half covered by snow-kissed locks of headfur. "Cider? Is that some sort of desert?" Ah yes, her culinary vocabulary is severely lacking.

"It's apples. In drink form," Sivaine explains. "So something of a dessert, if you're so inclined?"

Tameus toddles off out of sight, going back inside.

---

The infirmary has become very boring over the past couple of days, to the point where Harper can once again spend much of his shift reading, studying, and writing. He's studying /and/ writing at the moment, from the looks of it. He's seated on a chair leaned slightly back with his feet propped up on a counter. He's reading from one page while scribbling on a parchment resting on the other page.

Tameus pokes his head in from the hall, stopping there to glance around the infirmary in a curious manner. His hands are behind his back and his cowlicky hair is a little damp from a dusting of snow that's begun to melt. He aims a sun-shiney smile at his father. "Hi."

"'Llo Tammy," Harper greets without immediately looking up. He settles his things, closing the book and putting aside the parchment. He puts his feet down, setting everyone on the counter. And THEN he looks up. "How're you doin'?"

Tameus takes a step into the room, but doesn't come too close. He definitely has something hidden behind his back. "'m good," the leveret responds with a smile. "'ow're /y'/ da'?"

Harper raaaaises a brow. "Whatcha got thre?" And on the fails of that. "I'm.... fiiine."

Tameus tilts his head. "Got nothin'," he quips, a sneaky little grin across his muzzle. ".. y'r fiiine, huh?"

"Yeah I'm fine lemme see yer paws then." Harper squinty-eyes at Tam.

Tameus pouts and shakes his head. "No y' can', they's stuck like this," he tells the buck.

"What're you up to, young man?" Tammy is acting! Suspiciously! Suuuuuspicious.

Tameus continues to pout. "'m jus' askin' y' 'ow y' 're, da'." Pouty pouty. "Maybe I sh' jus' /not/ ask y', hmmmm?"

Harper's brow quirks. "Well I answered ya - I'm fine." Suspicion! Intrigue!

".. well 'fine' ain' a ver' good answer," Tam points out. "Y' sh' say 'good' like I did. 'r 'great' e'en." The wicked little smile is back.

Harper wrinkles his nose at Tam. "Maybe I like bein' fine. What about that, eh eh?"

"Well y' sh' be better'n fine," Tam says, wrinkling his nose right back. "Guess 'll haft' do 't, huh?" He pauses. Dramatic effect, almost. "... bu' who's gonn' make y' better'n-fine when 'm gone?"

"I suppose I'll just have t'endeavor to pick m'self up, eh?" Harper grins, coming forward. "I'm off shift, if you want t'go downstairs or sommat."

Tameus backs up a hasty few steps when Harper comes toward him - hands still behind his back. "... mmmaybe. But. I don' wann' go an' 'ave y' talkin' t' other beasts though. I wan' y' t' m'self."

Harper looks amused. "Do ya now. So... what? Someone talks t'me, I'm just supposed t'ignore them?"

Tameus tilts his head. "Y'r s'posed t' say - n' righ' now, please, 'm talkin'a Tam, 'e's leavin' soon."

Harper chuckles. Mooore amused. "Well I'll do what I can. I do want t'get as much Tam time as possible. Store it up, like." He grins. "But if you don't show me what you've got behind yer back I'm going t'go pout in m'bed!"

"Y'r lyin'. Y' don' pout. /'m/ th' one who pouts!" Tam grins, then bites his lip, suddenly looking shy - which is indeed a strange expression for this leveret. "... 'll show y'. But y' haft' close y'r eyes."

Oh wow, this could be dangerous. Harper's like picturing a cricket perched on his nose. But something about the way Tam looks, he just nods. Closes his eyes.

"An' no peekin', okay?" Tam chides.

"No peekin'," Harper promises.

Tameus considers Harper for a moment, then gives a noise of satisfaction. He moves over to the Brother. "Put y'r 'ands ou'," the leveret instructs.

Harper's paws come out. And he waits. Humhumhum.

Tameus brings a little flower pot out from behind his back. In it - a little plant. A few bits of green grass-like leaves and a thin, frail stalk which supports a few bell-like white flowers. Snowdrop. The leveret sets the pot in Harper's hands carefully. "... okay. Open."

Harper feels the gentle weight of it, cupping his paws around the pot. At the instruction, he perks one eye tentatively open first. And then, when he sees it, the other. He glances up and to Tam's face. "... I didn't know they were bloomin' yet."

Tameus stands back a half-step, face upturned, expression attentive to Harper's reaction. Like the whole world depends on it. "... 's one'a th' firs'," he says carefully, ears stiff and quivering. "... I put 't in th' pot f' y'. T' .. 'ave. T' keep y' comp'ny an'.. an'. An' t' make y' feel better'n fine."

".... I think it'll do jus' that, Tammy." His voice has gotten very soft. Harper holds out a paw, to pull Tam into a one-armed hug. Kisses the top of his head. "Thank you, Tammy."

Tameus steps into that hug, and curls both arms around the Brother's waist, squeezing a little and nuzzling at him. "... y'r welcome," he mumbles.

Harper smiles - sadly - down at the top of his head. But he recovers quickly enough, sounds in fact cheery when he speaks. "Let's go downstairs. I'm dyin' for somethin' t'eat." And with that, he directs them toward the door.

Tameus keeps the hug for a little longer, then nods. "Okay. I didn' e'en 'ave dinner 't all. ... wonder if they's got stew. 'm jus' /cravin'/ stew." And out they go.