#* thread !

oregano

you are home to so many people and yet you're not at home with yourself. everyone needs something from you and you desperately try to prove that you're enough but you're never enough, never good enough, never even you despite all of that. your hands shake but only when you're never looking at them and your smile is so ever-present you can't help but wonder if its fake, wonder how much of you is real. you're a caretaker, but are you even good at that, or are you faking yourself out into believing you're something that you wish you could, someone that someone else needed you to be when you were small and so full of need and hope and fragility? who are you underneath the need to be someone's home? who are you when you come home to yourself?

she couldn't say she wasn't curious, she had always wanted to pet a big cat, so when she finally found eve on her wildshape, she could barely contain herself. the druid turned panther found the warlock with her hand stretched towards her, ready to pet her head. ❝ sorry, i didn't mean to― well, i kinda did, but... could i touch your fur? ❞ she stumbles over her words, her face crimson red from the embarrassment.

she should be mad, but in the end, all she is is worried. this must be the fourth or fifth time she has had to heal him in less than two days and with the amount of fights they've been getting into lately, she's afraid he might actually end up with something more severe than cuts and bruises next time. ❝ there, done. ❞ she sighed, as the cut on his forehead closed itself under the light of her hands ❝ but please, for everything you hold dear, gale: leave the first line of attack to karlach and lae'zel. ❞

❝ thing is... we just don't know, tav. ❞ she wished she sounded less exasperated, but the truth was she had always hated not knowing what was happening with her patients, ❝ cerebral injuries are already complex enough without accounting for your particular problem and nothing i've tried until now suggest i can heal whatever is blocking your memory. ❞ she breathes deep, takes his hand into her and look him in the eye. ❝ i'm really sorry i don't have better news. ❞

She found the stone in the pockets of one of the cultists who fell against her glaive during the last battle, and while it was tempting to keep it for herself in the dark, cold environment of the shadowlands, she couldn't help herself and gave it away.

valerya's reaction was not exactly what she had expected, but at least she accepted the token with only a few jabs at the others. ❝ well, some other people might want it, but I don't want you coughing your lungs out when the temperature gets colder in these woods, ❞ she tries to sound nonchalant, as if she hadn't noticed how bad the drow's condition can get.

❝ besides, what kind of healer would I be if I let our fearless leader fall ill? ❞

damn her and her stupid ability to empathise with whatever creature that crosses her path. she shouldn't be worrying by kar'niss, of all creatures. it will come the time when they will storm moonrise towers to deal with ketheric fucking thorm and she has no doubts the drider will be the first to protect the absolute's goals with everything he has, but there is something... something broken within them and she has never been able to resist the urge to fix what might be mended.

❝ you do this often, then? venture into the dark and guide the lost souls here? ❞

he's been quiet. perhaps too quiet for his often bratty self. she knows she should leave him alone, leave him to figure out whatever it is that's bothering him and just go back to her tent and try to sleep... but when has she ever left someone alone when they could use a helping hand or just a willing ear? maybe he's even hungry, maybe she could actually help.

❝ what are you reading? ❞ she asks almost innocently as she approaches his tent, hands behind her back as she tries to give a peek to the large tome he's holding.