Fearlessly she stood on the very edge of the cliff looking down. The drop was dizzying and it made her heart race; a feeling that made her feel free. She'd never gone cliff diving before and while that was something she definitely wanted to try at some point, this cliff was not on her list of potential places. Jumping off this cliff would be inviting death. Warja doubted it was a fall any creature could survive. Feeling the air whirl around her, Warja closed her eyes and allowed herself to just feel. It was an exhilarating experience. The wind around her, the stone beneath her paws and the drop she could no longer see. She felt it all and she felt alive. Knowing that death was a slip away was freeing. Not in the sense that she could take her life if it suited her, but because it reminded her just how mortal she was. Sometimes she needed to be reminded. ""

Since the advent of spring, and all through that season, Kassander had been busy squirreling away herbs. He knew now, having gone through a winter as a healer, what herbs were needed most over that harsh season and made wiser choices as to what he stored for this winter, but he still stocked a wider variety than perhaps most healers might. He was paranoid he might need something - say, red beets, that weren't readily available or often gathered by other healers - and not have any on hand. That was, perhaps, the problem with having memorized so many herbs so young. Had he started at an older age perhaps he would have only memorized the few most commonly used herbs because he would have been busy actually practicing healing, but he'd been so young he could not and so had pestered the healers to learn more and more exotic and unusual herbs instead. After all, who wanted to use red beets for iron supplementation when they could just feed them deer meat instead? Innovation was discouraged in favor of what they already knew. Stagnation stifled improvisation in an emergency.

It was, actually, red beets he was carrying on his way back to Ebony when an alarming sight caught his gaze. A young woman around his age, cloaked in dark grayscale colors, stood poised on the edge of the cliff. What was she doing? Edging closer he set the tubers he carried at his paws so that he could speak. "Excuse me," he said cautiously, softly in the hopes of not startling her. He was tensed, though, and ready to leap forward and grab her scruff, to pull her back if she did startle and slip.

A tentative voice behind her drew Warja from her reverie. Eyes opening, the fae lazily tipped her head to the side and looked back at him. She quirked a brow in a silent question as she took the stranger in curiously. Guessing someone's personality by their appearance wasn't an exact (or fair) science, but he had an earnest face and she was willing to give him a shot because of it. "Yes?" she asked in response to his question. A split second later her eyes fell on the beets on the ground before him. Her level of curiosity rose sharply. What could he possibly need those for? "Beets? What are those for, if I might ask?" A beat, then, "Let me guess. Not a natural ginger." ""

The girl turned her head to look at him, and his stomach lurched uneasily at how close her paws were to the edge of the cliff. "Yes?" she asked him, as though wondering what he could possibly want. "I couldn't help but notice that you are... er... very close to a cliff," he ventured tentatively. "I just thought it would be kind of a shame if you fell asleep like that and..." He made a vague falling motion with his paw. Her question about if he was a natural ginger brought a shy smile. "No, I am all natural," he assured her solemnly, his face completely straight. "These aren't for dyeing anything. These are for beeting patients into submission." He waited a... beet... and then asked, curious, "What are you doing out there?" "Talk" "You" Think

His shy demeanor brought an amused smile to Warja's lips. As odd as it was for her to admit, he was kinda cute. He made a show of something falling off the cliff and Warja snorted. So her standing at the edge made him nervous, eh? Wonder what he'd do if she...got closer? "I'll try not to fall asleep then." "No, I am all natural." Her brow lifted in mock disbelief and she mouthed "oh" and Warja would have commented further had he not delivered a line that demanded an eye roll. "These aren't for dyeing anything. These are for beeting patients into submission." Adopting his serious tone, she commented, "Is that so? Perhaps that's something I should add to my list of ways to subdue unruly patients. Tell me," She paused, brow knitting, before delivering a lame attempt at matching his wit, "Do you beet them over the head or...?" ""

"I beet them from a distance," he countered with a play at complete seriousness, adopting a slightly girlish stance in jest, one white paw drawn up to his chest to emphasize his point, "so I don't get my paws dirty. Blood is ever so difficult to get out of white fur and I can't possibly be seen at less than my best." The fact that his paws were mucky at the moment from digging up the beets - in fact had left a crumble of dirt on his chest where it rubbed against the fur there - revealed the joke as what it was pretty handily. He inched closer to the edge himself, though his stomach twisted when he glanced over the side. Oh gods oh gods oh gods. That was really far down. He snapped his eyes back to the silvery girl's emerald gaze. "My name's Kassander, by the way. I'm the a - uh, a... healer in Ebony, and the beets are actually an iron supplement, since it's faster and easier than going off and killing a buffalo or something." He pricked his ears towards her hopefully, hoping to get a name or... at least a stepping-back-from-the-cliff. She hadn't seemed suicidal so maybe she was just... enjoying the view? "Talk" "You" Think

Warja continued to play along and it was no small feat to keep a straight face as he delivered his melodramatic response. She eyed his paw, noting the dirt that darkened his fur, and she couldn't stop the hint of a smirk that lifted the corners of her lips. In a flash she tamed it and adopted a facade of superiority. "I understand completely," she sniffed, "Those nasty, unruly creatures. Flinging and dripping blood everywhere. They just don't understand; like being in pain is an excuse for sloppiness." Peasants. The brute stepped closer and Warja eyed him with much interest as he seemed to struggle with the drop off at her paws. He was trying and for that she decided to take pity on him. Warja took a step back from the edge. It wasn't quite enough to remove the giant yawning emptiness from her sight, thankfully, but maybe it would ease his discomfort. Kassander, huh? The -no, he amended- a healer of Ebony. What a coincidence. "It's very nice to meet you, Kassander. My name's Warja, I'm a healer from Secretua. An iron supplement, huh? I didn't know that. That's pretty cool. It's ingested, I assume. What's the dosage?" The healer was dying to know how it compared to meat. If it was a remedy worth knowing, Warja wanted details. She'd add it to her arsenal. ""