enblightened | ☣️ ic inbox;

you neednt bring anything for me
i am a bit improved i suppose

I needn't, but I intend to. Buck up; it's given me something to do with myself, anyway.

i suppose i cannot argue with that.
i am at my shelter should you like to come by

Still in the woods, then? No one's bothered you.

staying here is necessary.

a friend patrolled some to give me privacy.
i used my omen to take items people offered.

And you're all right with having me come by in person? I'm not worried, myself, but I'll do what you'd rather.

i am adequately bound and much calmer than i had been.
i will be as all right with it as i can be.

All right. Then I'll be out to see you soon.

[And indeed, after a while, the sound of someone crunching and crackling her way through the underbrush eventually begins to grow in the stillness of the woods near Bigby's camp; she knows full well how to move quietly when she wants to, so evidently she's not trying very hard to conceal herself.

Which is probably the point.]

[The branches snapping is easily picked up by his ears, but he does immediately suspect who it is and why they're so obvious. Bigby tips his head up, then closes his eyes. He's kneeling by his humble campfire, and his chains are much tighter than usual, left arm pinned to his chest.

In the air, an inky material forms into a wolf, Bigby's omen. The wolf takes off to find Renfri and guide her away to the campsite.]

Oh, it's you, old fellow. Come to show me the way?

[Ordinarily, the sight of a wolf in the woods might give her pause, but this is no ordinary wolf — and more importantly, she knows this particular wolf. So when it makes itself known to her, she looses her grip on her sword and follows along after it, letting it lead her back to Bigby.

As she draws near to the campsite, enough so that she can spot the campfire and its smoke, she calls out softly: ]

Hello, you. Are you decent? I'm coming over.

[It's a bit of lighthearted humor, probably.]

[One tail wag is what she earns. The omen remembers her, of course, and calmly leads her away toward the camp.

Bigby hears her voice, then huffs softly.]

Somehow I suspect you wouldn't care about my state of dress. But yes, you can come.

I wouldn't, but I'd imagine you would.

[SENSITIVE MAN THAT HE IS. She heads over, however, and stands at the edge of the campsite for a minute to just regard him and the little setup he's made for himself, before picking her way over to a fair place to perch — a fallen log, a tree stump, a rock, whatever will do — and taking a seat.]

You're looking better. Bearing up all right?

Ah, well-- that is true.

[The wolf omen eventually settles between the two of them, comfortable in Renfri's presence.]

More or less. I am... attempting to approach with a more reasonable mind now, for as difficult as it is.

Well. Let's see if we can't help that along, a bit.

[She reaches under her cloak, into a pack slung on her hip and concealed beneath the folds of it, and draws out a small handful of cloth sachets. There's a faintly cloying aroma to them, heady like incense — faint enough that you'd all but have to put your nose against it to get a proper breath of it, but there for someone looking. Or for a sensitive nose.

She offers them out to him, cupped in one upturned palm.]

Here. I found an herbalist. There's one for under your pillow, and another on a string you can put around your neck. For calming.

Oh... for me.

[Too many people here have been generous to him. Accepting, openminded, and now again with the gift giving.

Bigby's eyes tear up, and he gingerly takes the herbs. They smell familiar, but not unwelcome.]

I-- thank you, Renfri.

Yes, for you, you soft-hearted man.

[She doesn't quite smile at him, exactly, but the look she casts in his direction is fond regardless.]

I said I'd find you something, didn't I?

That you did. Yet, somehow, I did not know what to expect anyway.

[The herbs are held carefully in the palm of his hand. He certainly plans to make use of this, along with the other things he's been given by others. New methods to calm himself, the chains he's been given -- he's very fortunate indeed for their mercy.]

Would you put this one around my neck for me? I am... not ready to free my other arm yet.

[She exhales sharply, a harsh sound that almost doesn't seem to fit her otherwise composed demeanor, but she nods after a moment and reaches for the one with the string when he bids her to.]

I don't like it. You, all trussed up like this, but — I know it's what you want, so I won't speak of it.

[Any more than she has already, she means. Carefully, she sorts out the cord so it doesn't coil up on itself, then moves over and fits it over Bigby's head and around his neck — the loop short enough that the packet sits near his collarbones, fitted without being choking.]

There. Can you smell it, a bit? Should waft easily up to your nose, like this.

I know you do not approve, but... this is what I need, at the moment.

It is different when I choose this, instead of being forced.

[And if he truly wanted to break out of the chains, he could anyway.

As she goes to set it around his neck, Bigby bows his head to make it easier for her to put the packet on. For him, he can smell better than the average human, not quite to the degree of William's hound but close.

So the smell is something he can easily pick up.]

Yes. That's perfect.

I know. And it's not my decision. I've just never taken well to the sight of friends in irons.

[As she draws away, she lets the edge of her finger brush along his cheek — fleeting, faint contact, but there nevertheless.]

They said it shouldn't dull your senses, just...quiet some of the upset inside. So you needn't struggle so much to keep it in. Like smoke in a hive of bees.

Nor would I, if our situations were exchanged.

[It is a brief contact, but he notices easily. With her various gestures, present and past, Bigby knows she can be empathetic along with her stern decision making. He does not call it out, but quietly appreciates it.]

It means much to me. I have been gifted with quite the compassionate population of people here, yourself included.

Well, you're welcome. But you don't owe me any gratitude, so save that for someone else.

[She settles back in, arranging her legs beneath her as she gets comfortable.]

I'm glad no one's bothered you. You'd tell me if they had been, wouldn't you?

Not even a simple "thanks" is something you like to hear. Is there a problem with that?

[He doesn't sound irritated, but genuinely curious.]

Well, I'd be... careful as to how I'd phrase it, most likely, but no. No one has come to bother me needlessly.

I don't do things for the sake of thanks. And...I'm not used to such things being offered to begin with. It just makes me feel strange. You're so...earnest about it.

[it is hard when sometimes we have a whole feeling about things and that feeling is not BIG MAD.]

It's just, you don't have to be grateful. I'm used to taking care of the people that matter.

I suppose... for me, it has been too rare until recently that there would be anyone concerned about my well-being. In the heat of battle, one comes to rely on a comrade and there is a need to protect them, but outside of that... not so much.

I've no interest in making you feel uncomfortable. I will try to mind my words.

☣️ ic inbox;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)