what makes you pull the poison rose? [backdated to ~4/22, for rian]

[fairywren]

This is taking a little longer than Wren had anticipated. He's had luck, good and bad, along the way in his search for a patch of nettles big enough and wild enough that he won't be caught picking them. A kind little girl throwing bread to what she saw as a wild swan, before her mother warned her away ("What is a swan doing resting this far from water? It's sick or enchanted, come away from it.") and she'd frowned and waved goodbye as he flew away.

He'd spotted what seemed like a good patch, big enough to send him home to Hana with all she needs and more if he's fast about it, but he'd run into some hunters on the way back and lost not only the nettles but a few wingfeathers.

Wren tries to keep flying and can't, too exhausted and with nothing to show for two days of work but determination and the graze of stray shotgun pellets. He'd found a thick woods, thick cover from hawks and hounds and a vast array of plants growing there including nettles. It's hopeful.

When night comes, he transforms, setting his mind to his task. Nettles sting, and he curses softly as he bends to pulls them.

Comments

[wastelandflower]

"And who are you?" Rian asks from a tree. The last few days have been a swirl of mad confusion. Ever surface he touches has brought him conflicting images and incomplete truths. It's enough to drive a changeling mad and it's no better when he finds a cursed man tromping through his woods.

"Who are you that pulls my weeds and roses without the leave of me? A thief? A sacrifice?"