So when she felt the faint tuggings of strain at the corners of her mind, she acted on them. Her Hold's people were all safe, well-integrated and settling in now, and her number one responsibility had reverted to being herself. It was an unfamiliar thing, to be able to focus on herself totally, but a bit... nice, for a change.
With free time on her hands for the first time in ages, she'd quietly asked around, and learned that among her fellow healers were several that enjoyed plantlife. Some even kept small gardens where they could, or potted herbs. Mostly ones for the purpose of making medicines, she'd assumed, but even that would be nice. Her hope had been to find some flowers, and possibly someone to talk to about them, but she would be content with whatever she turned up, she decided. The little island where their Hold had been had only had a few types of flowers, but it had been rife with them in places. Entire little valleys pocked the land, burgeoning with white and red and yellow blooms that rippled in the sea winds...
Western, being a proper full-sized (or at least, to her untrained eye) Weyr, was more of sand and stone than plant life. And that made sense, really. With the heart of threadfighting efforts focused here, what use was there for flowers growing from the walkways and walls? Out where the sides of the bowl's edges gave way to the expanse of wallows and huts, full of their dragons and riders and leading down towards the distant shores, she'd seen trees and bushes, even faint speckles of color. That would have to be enough, she'd supposed... But if one or two of the other healers kept a little hidden garden, and she could find it, maybe get to know the one keeping it... make friends, as well as being colleagues?
The door she'd been directed to stood open, and she gave the frame a faint knock as she came 'round it, stepping through and pausing at the sight of the expanse. The caverns and halls of the Weyr still seemed vast to her, arching high overhead in some places and as wide as Thetling's dining hall'd been in some cases. This one was roughly so: a workplace decked with tables and chairs, of a height to have patients sit upon for inspecting. A few beds were tucked to one side, and shelves of jars full of salves and wraps and dried leaves lined the opposite wall. Across from where she'd entered, the cavern opened into a ledge—to allow riders swift entry and exit, no doubt—though half of it had been sectioned off, sheets of netting hung up to keep wherries or insects at bay, or to shield the plants within from direct sun.
And oh, what plants there were! Brilliant spires of purple blossoms, packed tight on their stems like feathers on a wherry's wing. Riotous golden explosions of petals, a firework at the end of a slender wand-like strip of green. Curling red and green vines that hung up along the mesh, dropping bell-like blooms that jangled jauntily as the figure stooped to tend their bases shifted, no doubt turning towards the sound of her knock.
"Hello... Veikel? My name is Raen," she called, soft but firm in tone as she crossed the threshold properly. "I wanted to... see your flowers, if you don't mind?"
houllow
