Lavish Laments and Languid Levity

Usil lay sprawled across a driftglobe-warmed paver in felicitous feline form. An unusual way to relax for them, but enjoyable nonetheless. Aside from learning the benefits of languid leonine charm, Usil had also found the sense of smell was useful to their pursuit of botany. Perhaps something canine might be more fitting, but trailing the scent of various critters as they forage for flora beyond evershaol’s walls was most apt. It didn’t hurt that they could return with the occasional vermin for Soddy.

The Flowering Heart of the Celaeno House didn’t receive much in terms of sunlight, but that wasn’t the worst thing. Soddy stirred in a near raised bed, chewing constantly on a bit of captured vermin carrion and bovine knuckle from the kitchen. Slitted eyes darted across the enclosed garden scape, observing a few changes Usil had been making over time, both bringing in flora from forest and market, and cultivating a new garden in a shape granted to them in dreams and signs. It was probably NOT unnoticed by the estate chef, Ylena Barst, or other staff, but Usil had been taking great care to enrich what was already present alongside introducing additional diversity. Mostly things that are edible or usable in some nature (and maybe, just a little bit recreational, and a wee bit of catswort), but beautiful nonetheless.

With a sizable yawn and a longer stretch, Usil rose to their feet, and shifted form; no more time for cat naps when there’s a little more work to do. They laid out a grimey tome, pristine in shape but obviously handled by soiled hands, and opened it to a wrinkled page tucked between the sheafs of notes, recipes, spells, and whimsical missives to The Yellow Lady. On it was a crudely drawn picture of a yellow flower, each petal is differently patterned. A design for a garden, one that Usil had slowly worked towards between their efforts of alchemy and herbalism. With the last few bits of pay they had earned, and a feeling of confidence in their comrades, Usil was ready to tackle the project head on, thinking carefully about the next step as they thumbed a ring their compatriots thought they might take a fancy to, seemingly fashioned after a thimble morel, and magical in nature.

They could have sworn they intended to start something like this when they got to Evershoal, maybe on a smaller scale on Soddy’s back, but couldn’t shake the idea that something was missing or forgotten. A loose string in their pocket was all they could think of at the time. Oh well. A mystery for another day. What was important was starting something new, relaxing, and perhaps a gift basket of sorts for Lora. “Get well soon, sorry about your nose” wasn’t a great choice of words and the recent reveal that they would be framed had left them unfocused and on edge; so, actions felt more appropriate than words in this case. Perhaps a round of drinks at the Dour Dram in her name. She does have a new performance coming soon, after all.