a hot house flower to your outdoorsmen
wake
11-18-2024, 04:14 PM
She startled when Wake approached, finally losing her staring contest with the fish. Finch shifted from paw to paw, wincing as the movement jostled her strained stomach. It was so painfully empty and yet still hurt to be touched. Hunger gnawed at her, but try as she might, she couldn't settle her nausea long enough to take a bite. "I am feeling a little green, yes," she said, words awkward and stilted. Calliope hadn't necessarily told her not to interact with anyone, but she'd been feeling so peaky and forlorn that she'd spent most of her time alone in the Raid Queen's den interspersed with short walks across the territories. For the most part, the Raiders left her alone: they knew she was a kept animal. She should be embarrassed by it, but for now she was just grateful for the protection it extended.
"I'm starving, but I just can't... seem to eat. Too nauseous," she gestured with a vaguely disappointed air at the fish, which looked as disgusting as ever. It fixed its beady little eye right back on her. She shuddered and looked away to get a better look at him. He was languid, cool and relaxed - something she'd never managed to achieve in her short life. Finch raised an eyebrow at the smoking paraphernalia Wake had toted along as it didn't quite look like any tools of any trade she recognized. She knew of the healing properties of certain burned herbs, at least for indirectly inhaling: lavender, chamomile, other pleasant smelling flowers, but his implements looked as if you took whatever it was directly into your lungs. That she'd never seen before. "I'm Finch, Calliope's, ah, guest," she blundered along. Guest, pet, unwilling captive, et cetera. She was too exhausted to make it sound nice and guest was the best she could come up with that didn't make her sound terribly pathetic. "What have you got there?" she asked after a moment, gesturing towards what he was set up to continue smoking.
If nothing else, Finch loved to learn new things.
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