Chimes and Flowers [Ailín, Cassair, Iollan]

The quiet shivered and parted before the visitor. Ailín looked up, the glow of magic fading as his patient’s colors grew more vivid. For a moment he expected to see his brother, who was meant to come visit some time today (or yesterday, or tomorrow), but this hope quickly vanished at the sight of the human. Of course, this meant that he should be all the more hospitable. A potential customer!

“Hello, welcome!” Ailín smiled warmly as he studied the other - only to start as several features stuck out to him. A young, smiling human who wove thorns in his hair. Even if Ailín was unfamiliar with rumors, that was already enough to be odd, and oddity in this city was usually a sign of danger. As it turned out, he was familiar, thanks to both his customers and a certain Conjurer. But then, that meant...

He realized his expression had been replaced by slightly parted lips of surprise. That won’t do, oh no. With a touch of effort he smiled again, shyly this time. “I-If you need any help, sir, I’ll see what I can do for you.” Ahh, should he ask him what he was looking for? Should he just back off and let him roam? What would Iollan do? Not panic, first of all, but this was the Count, who always smiled, was certifiably mad, and was allegedly an eldritch force of nature. Only two of three were confirmed, yes, but that was still worrisome.

At least he didn’t seem to be in trouble, yet. Ailín watched the Count from the corner of his eye, returning to his work as a second thought. He was a smidgen nervous, he admitted to himself, but his flowers presented a sense of security. Not any real safety, true, but his hands and part of his attention were kept busy. But when Cassair stepped out of this delicately limited vision, the tension returned. A few moments later, he repaired new bruising on a stem, taking a few silent, deep breaths to steady his hands. Calm down, he chided himself. He’s not doing anything, no need to be rough. With a wordless apology to the flower he shifted one down the row, extra careful as he continued his examinations.

He looked up again upon being addressed, turning to meet Cassair’s eyes before his gaze flicked to the side in thought. Or in discomfort, but he hoped that bit wasn’t as obvious. “Working with plants is nice,” he offered. Maybe a rather simple answer, but that didn’t make it any less true. Oh, but was that too abstract? What did Cassair want? A more material answer? What if he didn’t mean in the shop but actually in Iadlain as a whole?

Glancing down, then back to the Count, Ailín folded his arms behind him, wishing he had worn his cloak so he could hide in it. He was used to being nervous around new customers, but he could step into professional-shopkeeper-mode until he got used to them. Somehow, he felt that formalities would only serve to make him feel more awkward with the human. He tried to stay friendly regardless, the more bearable route than just sinking into the floor. “...why the curiosity? Did, um, you see something that interested you?”

The Count’s pause and stare couldn’t possibly make him more uneasy than he already was, but somehow it did. “I - thank you.” Ailín supposed that was a compliment, though the descriptor could be used in many unflattering ways. An innocent word, ranging from genuinely curious to apathetic to painfully patronizing. It was less distressing to assume the positive, seeing as Cassair’s tone gave him few cues to work with.

Cassair shifting his gaze away once again lightened the invisible weight on the Druid. Ailín didn’t try to continue working this time; it was too distracting, and he really was going to end up causing more harm than good with his skittishness. Instead he leaned back on the counter with his palms, finding stability in the physical realm as he reached downwards, through the floorboards, with his magic. Finding a strand of natural ether was not difficult - and rarely was, here in the Wispwood civilization - and he carefully drew strength from it.

Feeling marginally better, Ailín studied the next obstacle created by the Count. “Ah-- yes.” Technically not accurate (not everything here was a flower), but that was one way to put it and it was a small enough detail that he didn’t bother correcting it. It hurt his herbalist heart a little, though. “I grow most, but some, um, have to be gathered. Since it’s, not very easy replicating Wispwood conditions.”

Ailín had hoped that Cassair was losing interest and would show himself out (or maybe buy something first?), but evidently that was not the case. “Regularly? I...suppose so.” He eyed the hydrangeas, feeling as though he may as well switch places with them. The sudden, renewed interest in him was disconcerting, and only by the Count’s grace was he not yet harmed. The Druid made a mental note to avoid talking about Wispwood in the future. “Um, for example - some kinds of mushrooms are easier harvested than grown, then there’s all the herbs that grow farther in…”

He tapped his fingers against the counter. “I, um, don’t usually get those myself, though.” For good reason, of course. Half the daylight was about as long – and thus as far – as he’d spend in the forest before needing to head back. Ailín had never been confident enough to venture past the self-imposed red line alone, especially since his magic wasn’t suitable for protection. “My brother helps a lot with that, since he…spends a lot of time there.” For some reason. Ailín stopped asking. “He brings back anything he finds on his trips.”

More rarely did the Conjurer actually accompany him through Wispwood. Ailín never understood how Iollan could be so calm walking around someplace so dangerous, and the Druid always felt guilty for being a burden. The last thing his brother needed was more unnecessary stress.

“O-oh, so you already know him…?” He hoped it was in a good manner; the rumor mill could be - and often was - cruel in Iadlain, and his brother certainly caught the bad side of it in years prior. Not as much, recently, after novelty of his return and subsequent decision to run off into the woods wore off. “He’s a nice brother, more than I could ask…”

He forgot what he was saying. On the plus side, Ailín managed to resist stepping away from Cassair. Unfortunately, the Count was now too close for comfort, blank eyes and all. He tried to focus on the positives – and at least Cassair hadn’t moved any closer, right? He laughed faintly, a nervous reaction more than one born from amusement. “Um – all sorts – seer’s cap and somnia root, and tanglewood’s better quality when it’s grown away from people, and…”

He managed to list a few more herbs when the door chimed for a second time, and Ailín gladly took the opportunity to look away from Cassair.

---

Opening a door when both hands were occupied with a heavy box was an acquired skill, and luckily one Iollan had learned within the first month of deliveries to the Silver Branch. So delicate of an art this was, however, that he had not peered past the window displays to check for customers. The bell rang sweetly, as he very gracefully stepped over the threshold backwards. “Ailín? I finally finished – ”

He turned and froze, looking first at the Count and then at the way Ailín’s eyes widened slightly in a silent plead. “Good morning, Cassair.” His tone was amenable with a matching smile, smoothly stepping in to fill his hesitation. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you been well?” Polite, generous, as though the last time they crossed paths had not ended a drop off a cliff.

Iollan straightened up slightly, shifting his hold on the box as he spoke. Ailín saw this, as the older elf expected, and he immediately excused himself under his breath to peel away from Cassair in favor of his brother. “Here – let me – help you with that…”


((Random herbs that I pulled off my list of ideas -- and an awkward attempt to write two people at once haha))

Iollan nodded slowly, as in yes, that’s good to hear that the Count has been well. He handed the box Ailín, careful to support its weight until both were absolutely sure that the Druid could carry it, then Ailín was awkwardly shuffling away to the shop’s storage. Normally Iollan would’ve helped, but had he followed then they risked Cassair tagging along as well. Ailín just needed the minutes alone to recover, Iollan was sure, and the Conjurer did not mind entertaining the Count for the while. At least, Iollan didn’t think he minded – perhaps that now they were in town, Cassair would not lead him into danger.

He blinked at the question (and again that odd way of address – Iollan would have to get used to that, eventually), and he tilted his head to one side in consideration. “I suppose I don’t know exactly,” he admitted. “I don’t recall you ever visiting this shop, so my best answer would be a continuation of that. I don’t think many people expect their city’s leader to visit a small store like this.”

The elf crossed his arms loosely, more of a relaxed shift in position than a guarded stance. With his younger brother out of the room there was less concern to be had, at least for this period of time. Yes, the Count was still dangerous, but being out of the woods meant more courtesies and more security, relatively speaking. “What brought you here?” he asked, studying Cassair with polite curiosity, then – because this was a store and Iollan did work here from time to time he continued. “Are you looking for anything in particular? My brother is a rather skilled Druid; the medicines and flowers here are of high quality.”