He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Never let it be said that Rune didnāt fall into Fae stereotypes.
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Never let it be said that Rune didnāt fall into Fae stereotypes.
Theyāve always had a fascination with flowers, ever since they were a child. The Heliotrope Princess, they were called - or Prince, depending on their inclinations that particular day - , partially for the general coloration they tend to prefer, but mostly for their love of flowers, especially the deadly poison ones. Even now, centuries later and traversing through an entirely different plane, they carry around books on flower language and meaning - and how unexpected that, of all cultural norms from Avalon, this of all things should bleed out into Gaia.
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.
Rune likes flowers, they all know this, so no one bats an eye when, during their downtime, while Aegeus is whipping up dinner from whatever Delphi managed to hunt and some of the herbs Rune and Kya gathered up early, Rune sits down and plays with a bunch of flowers. Often they make flower crowns, which they plop on everyoneās head, to the delight of most party members.
(who, thankfully, havenāt yet picked up on the meanings. Kya does look at them funny at the crown of yellow pansies, purple asters and pink camelias they plop onto Quasarās head, much to his embarrassment, but if she is fluent in the language, she has yet to say something. Whatever, sheās not blind, and Rune is astonishingly bad at hiding it.)
Other times, they bunch the plants in little fragrant bouquets, which they tie upside down on their pack or even their staff, to dry. Lavender and roses and pansies and a lot of herbs, as well, all trailing sweet aromas behind so that Rune smells like an apothecary, most of the time. Quite often, they break plants apart into components, for drying or boiling or extracting oils, and thatās where the poisons come into place, Belladona and Nightshade and Foxgloves all carefully treated and stored, away from everyone for safety. Spell and potion ingredients are not spared, either; Rune knows the Tavernkeep at the Drowsy Dragon mixes their own potions most of the time, and by the Dragons if theyāre not going to figure out how themself.Ā
And sometimes, when something happens, when Quasar smiles at them with eyes bright and full of enthusiasm, or a particularly well-executed Eldritch Blast goes off without a hitch and gets them a tight, armored hug. Or when an argument gets a bit out of hand, or Rune says something that draws another frown over those sparkling magenta eyes. Whenever something happens, that makes Rune stop and startle for a bit, they sit with Andu, a little ways off the camp, and gets one of the flowers theyāve collected throughout the day, and they start pulling petals.
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.Ā
Was looking through my old art last night, and man, I need to do more stuff with Lina. She's got a lot of potential for fun stuff that I haven't explored too much yet. The unfortunate consequence of having so many OCs all competing for attention lol.
