Rotten to Me

永程

Yong Cheng watched Iolaire with a small smile still on his face. It would be hard to tell what he was thinking -- he let his lips curl up into a little grin, even as Iolaire gestured towards him. Sultan, he mused, finding the word foreign to his tongue. It rolled off Iolaire's like water off a duck's back. Sultan.

If he really had been the sultan, Sirius would be minus one healer. But luckily for Sirius, Yong Cheng was no sultan, and so he couldn't leave the Armada without forsaking his life, or several limbs. Maybe an eye.

He didn't want to call her Io. Nicknames were for family. Perhaps close friends. They were not for acquaintances, and certainly not for strangers who had just met. Then again, everyone called him Bird. He supposed it could be a nickname, but he had also chosen it for himself -- it was as much his name as Yong Cheng was.

He looked on as Iolaire worked. He tried committing the ingredients to memory, tying them in with what he already knew. Honey, yes, was antibacterial -- it was good for preserving things, too. Wax, he supposed, formed the base of the salve. What a resourceful character this wolf was. Yong Cheng wondered what else she had in her arsenal. He wondered what else she had done. She might have used rather inane analogies, but he had to give it to her -- Iolaire was worth her salt.


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OOC: