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@onceawitch
"Granny Folsi! How are you?"
Most excellent, besides coming home to a cold hearth and dust everywhere. So much for paying some of the local girls here to tidy up while I was away! I’ll be having a talk with their mothers for this, I’m thinking.
Come pester Granny.
Tea Time
Somehow, the Argonian did smiling back at the Dunmer. In his life there were Dark Elves that earned his respect, and care. Folsi was one of those. He walked on in caring to duck underneath the door in fear of his own horns and spines on his head from getting caught. “Sure thing” he told her setting his cloak on a rack, looking over at a cat that seemed very intelligent or appeared to be. He turned away heading to find a place to sit. “How have you been?” Truly, it felt like ages.
“Well enough. I’ve only recently come back from a bit of a sabbatical.” Folsi said, bustling through the front of her shop, crowded as always with odd paraphernalia for her work. A kettle was whistling already by the fire, true to her word, and she soon found a set of mugs for them to drink from. “I’m in good health and spirits now that I’m home.”
Picking up a wooden box that she used to store her tea leaves, she glanced at him. “And yourself?” Folsi took a quick moment to shoo the cat away from one of the chairs by the fire, earning a reproachful look from the creature. “Sit already, don’t stand on ceremony. Tell me how things have been with you.”
Breadboard found in Central Virginia, by Fantastics Country Attic
Medieval Castle
Shaping up to be a good morning! High time I get some seeds planted, my stocks are running low.
Rumor of a Prodigal Apprentice
attheborderofoblivion
“Ah, you went to that short fetcher from Kynesgrove, yea? That’s no Stormcloak’s work.” Two mer were seated on a stoop, apparently engaged in the mysterious task of changing the shorter’s bandages. The speaker peers down at the stitches, which barely peek over the ridge of his shoulder, with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “Mm, the Reni boy. Nevah would'a bet them snakes’d birth a quality leech. Owe m’ life to him- OOW! The fuck’re you doing?! That’s tender!” “Your brain’s tender! Just hold still!“ The taller mer curses under his breath as he tries to re-work the bandages. “D'you think he’s still there? I’m shit at this!” “We ain’ got the gold ta pay him even if he was. Only got this stitched cuz he was good enough ta take half price ‘n a trade.” The shorter mer grumbles, glancing up briefly to scowl at the crowds. The sulky manner disappears entirely when he catches sight of Granny, eyes lighting up as he waves his good arm at her. “Granny! Can you slap a word'a sense inna this fetcher? He’s the worse medic this side of the barracks!“
The old Dunmer couldn’t watch for much longer, having been taking the time to see just how the mer would do with what she saw as a simple task. She shakes her head as she approaches, soon shooing the taller mer away from the stoop he sat on. “I won’t be wasting words, but I can take a look at that if you’d let me.”
With steady hands, careful of the still sore wound, Granny Folsi removes the old bandages. As she works to replace them, she takes note of the meticulous sutures on the mer’s arm and shoulder. Fine work, better than most–definitely not the product of the ham-fisted mer trying to replace the other’s bandages. “Been injured recently, eh?”
She tightens the clean bandages, just enough to keep them firmly in place, before patting the shorter mer’s hand. “There. Best find another to change your bandages though. The one who stitched you up can’t, I’m guessing?”
Tea Time
The war was well over. In fact Kii-Nam couldn’t believe it himself despite how sore he was. But there was time to ponder that later.
Instead he stood at the door of a familiar face in which he had missed for sometime, one despite how vague she was in his own past had left enough of an impact. The soldier knocked several times upon the cottage of Granny Folsi as she was known, awaiting for the invitation to come on.
The several knocks set the crow off, which in turn set the cat off, the animals raising a ruckus as they always did when someone was at the door. Folsi took some time in answering, and by the time she did, she was trying to brush away stray feathers that always, always managed to land on her in the uproar.
She pulled open the door and took a moment to see who was there, but her wrinkled face split into a wide smile to see the Argonian there. “Kii-Nam! Come in, come in--it’s been ages, friend.” Quickly, Granny Folsi ushered him inside. “You know to make yourself comfortable. Came right in time too, I’ve got a kettle on to boil.”
Glad to see you're here, I suppose you and I have some catching up to do. Tea?
Hm. You sure you can stomach my tea? I could be brewing a kettle from nightshade or deathbells, for all that you know.
"Thanks for the soup, dare I ask what you put into it?"
Oho, it’s my soup you’ll question, but not the potions I brew?
Granny, I slept with a Khajiit and now I have a rash down there. What should I do?
Besides coming to me and getting a few creams that might help with that little problem? I’d suggest you start looking after your own health. There’s things worse than rashes, bucko, poxes among them. And get help if you think you need it! A moment of embarrassment is better than losing a nose, that’s how I see it.
Where have you been, Granny?
Hither and yon, as they like to say. A coven came calling and this time the gathering was in Solstheim, of all places. And lucky Granny gets to play nursemaid to backbiting witches still cutting their teeth...troublesome lot, they were, but there were plenty full of piss and vinegar. I’d like to see how they turn out.
Not that it was all bad, mind you. I found some likely lad to take me around when I wasn’t too busy with coven business, got to see some of the sights around the island. Nothing quite like playing tourist, is there? I even picked me up some souvenirs, and they look quite nice on the shelves now that I’m home.
Come pester Granny.
"I wonder now, with Ulfric now dead...how do you think Windhelm will shape up?"
“I’d be lying if I said I expected much change.” Granny Folsi confessed. “Attitudes in these parts didn’t just crop up because he was Jarl. We’ll get a few new taxes, the guards around Windhelm might be a bit sharper coming into the Grey Quarter--maybe even to the docks to watch over more than just cargo, but...”
She sighed and rolled her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. “Ask me again after Free-Winter has been Jarl for a year, eh? We’ll see then.”
“Do you pity them?”
“Pity’s for them what won’t roll up their sleeves to help.” Granny Folsi chewed the stem of her pipe in thought. “And I’d rather not waste it where it isn’t wanted. How do you feel about it though? Girl like yourself, got some sort of opinion on it all.”
