AW, but maybe Perseus ;) SKILL herbalist 1/5

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the forest outside the valley greeted her with a hush.
cloud lash slipped between willow trunks like a breeze through feathers, her light paws pressing into damp moss. here, the canopy hung low and delicate—veils of green trembling in the breath of spring. slivers of sun filtered through, catching in the strands of her pale coat, warming the cool-dark places where she walked.
a makeshift of woven willow fronds hung against her flank, already dotted with early treasures: threadleaf, sweet root, the pale buds of ghostflower. but she was looking for rarer things now. spring-born and stubborn. the kind that grew only where mist pooled, where deer did not tread, and where the old spirits hummed beneath the soil.
her red eyes scanned the underbrush with patience, with reverence. she did not pluck without thought. to take without thanks was to invite misfortune.

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The fallen moved in silence; he had dragged himself from the clenches of the mist and swamp lands. A new terrain settled beneath his feet, one where the world was less dark and the foliage was abundant. Greener, brighter… more ethereal. It reminded him of his old home; The Garden of Eden held the same feelings at one point. Yet, he knew this was just a facade, there was no such thing as perfect in a world bathed in treachery and sin. He had been in a place where pain and misery did not exist, but… how boring was a place that was supposed to be paradise all the time? Where the only pain you felt was just in your head. A lingering growl would draw from his mouth, annoyance laced in the sound.

He moved through the hanging branches, catching tufts of fur that clung to the ends. His maw drew upward, grasping the fluff between his teeth. Soft against his tongue, sweet… like berries with a hint of oats. He would follow the trail of white until he would find the source, a female. Along her flank, presented what seemed a make-shift basket that was filled with other leaves. He presumed a healer of sorts. He wouldn’t mind having one in his clutches, especially with the various scraps he had managed to get in.

He would draw the branches back, pushing along until he was no longer hiding in the low-hanging twigs. He would present himself as less of a threat, just a passerby who was all too surprised that he had run into someone here.

“Morning.” His voice carried in a baritone octave, pushing further to the female, “Looking for anything particular?” He asked, momentarily drawing his gaze along her rump where the herbs were, “I can’t say I will be too helpful, but if you describe it - four eyes are better than two.”

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SKILL Herbalist 2/5

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under the dappled shade of the willow trees, cloud lash shifted her basket of herbs from one side to the other, her red eyes fixed warily on the man who had appeared. he was tall and scarred, and at first her heart had leapt into her throat—but he had not charged, had not bared teeth. his voice rumbled low, words she couldn’t understand, but they didn’t seem cruel. her tail gave a hesitant flick, cautious but curious. she had met many in her travels now—some kind, some cruel—and something about the man’s posture, the way he tilted his head, made her feel… maybe he wasn’t one of the latter.
she took a step forward, watching him closely. from her collection, she lifted a sprig of wild mint and a long-stemmed plant with small, delicate yellow buds. she didn’t know their names in his tongue, but she held them up anyway, then pointed to the shaded soil near the base of the willow. naa'shun, she whispered in her own, half to herself, then motioned toward her eyes and the earth again. searching. hunting. did he understand? probably not. but she tried. they always tried, didn’t they?
after a moment, she crouched again to dig gently through the roots, nose twitching with sharp focus. the man was still there, his presence heavy but not unpleasant. she could smell the fire on him—burnt wood, old ash, maybe sap. it wasn’t like the valley men, who smelled of grass and sinew. this one had been shaped by harsher places. cloud lash glanced up at him once more, then returned to her work, her posture easier now. if he wanted to help, she would not stop him. if he only watched, that was fine too. she had nothing to hide.

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The male’s thoughts were plagued with temptation, but he knew better than to give in so quickly. Surely, she would eventually give him what he wanted if he wielded patience. His gaze drew along the woman’s form, lithe and feminine. Her fur was a softened hue of white, accented by various black points that complemented her well. He could flatter the woman, boost her ego, but then he may come across as pushy and… desperate.

She dug through the remnants of her satchel of leaves, taking forth a mint leaf and another more prominent plant with yellow buds. He would nod softly, understanding what she was trying to communicate to him. Was she mute? No. It seemed his question was answered in a foreign tongue. He was pretty fluent in multiple languages, but could not take into account where she was from. She surely was full of surprises.

Dropping his gaze toward the damp ground, he would in turn start to search for what she had wanted. They worked in a pleasant silence, glad to have his mind preoccupied for a while, even though the man was not one to be so helpful. The morning would draw on, and he would round back to the woman, the bundle of herbs that she had requested in his maw.

Moving toward her flank, he would imply that he was trying to secure the herbs in her pouch. Dropping them inside before drawing back. He smiled, a boyish charm that added to how young he was. He was sent to heaven early, and perhaps the millennium of constant good behavior caused the stir to overthrow his god.

“Perseus.” He interrupted the silence, pointing to himself before pointing back to the woman, “You?”

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cloud lash did not shy from the male’s stare, though she felt it. her eyes—clear and red like wet berries against snow—cut to him once and then lowered, not in submission, but in thought. he was kind to help. quiet. she liked quiet.
when he returned with herbs tucked between his teeth, she watched him move. the touch of his flank near hers did not startle her, though her breath shifted just faintly as he leaned in. a tuck of her paw drew the satchel nearer, and she let him place the greens inside. her tail flicked in a light brush of thanks, almost shy.
perseus, he said. the name rolled off his tongue, softer than she expected.
her gaze met his, pupils wide with the hush of morning still around them. she touched her chest. nuvts’eyaȟa, she replied, careful with the pronunciation, knowing he may not understand but giving it anyway.
then, after a pause, she smiled—a small, crooked thing, like she wasn’t used to showing it. and she added in her quiet voice, thicker than common, cloud… lash. her own name, in his tongue. a gift.