2001-04-07: Ugh Adults

Participants:

Taril_icon.gif Maura_icon.gif

Scene Title Ugh, Adults!
Synopsis Taril the Fox does NOT get an arrow in the butt
Location Hogwarts - Greenhouses
Date 04-07-2001
Watch For Mollie!
Logger Maura

Greenhouses Hogwarts
Sun Apr 07, 2001 — Sun Apr 07 18:15:45 2019


The Herbology classes of Hogwarts are taught in a series of greenhouses located out off the castle's gardens. From the outside, these greenhouses look like any old greenhouse you would find in someone's garden. The structures are made from glass and metal, of course they are magically enhanced to prevent breakage as well as controlling the inner temperatures. Depending upon your class year depends upon which greenhouse you study in. The contents of these rooms almost appear normal, save for oddly colored foliage that occasionally try to teeth on passing students. Tables and shelving units containing the smaller plants are set up in neat rows, while larger plants occupy corners in their own pots and personal space. Some of these errr, miracles of nature are quite volatile. Arranged down the center aisle are a series of tables for students to work at.


The air is clear, the day is quiet (or as quiet as one can expect these days), and the birds are singing. There's also a small red streak heading down the path between the greenhouses. After a few breaths, the streak resolves itself into a fox making a b-line for whatever safety the buildings might offer. Once it's come to a halt that involves hitting a shoulder to the ground and skidding like something from a muggle animation, that fox shifts from panting animal to laughing young man. Albeit a young man with an arrow protruding from his leg who appears to be laughing. "Ah be damned, they got me! Shite, that's gonna hurt in the mornin'." Behold, the must un-hindered Scottish accent ever.

Speaking of walking between greenhouses, there is also a woman and her making their way from one to the other in a markedly unhurried gait. The opposite of the red blur. And with a satchel of whatever the students harvest was from the day, to deliver to the potions master most likely. "…" Initial reaction from woman and dog, who look at one another before they peer at the shapeshifting fox as it skids. "Oh, ouch. Maybe we sh… oh, alright then. An Animagus." And one with a heavy brogue to top it off. Even with all the practice she has at decophering brogue, she still squints a little. "You alright, there? Do you need help?"

Taril laughs. "The type and level depending on who y'ask, aye." He looks at the arrow protruding from the outside of his thigh and winces. "Although, truth be told, I'm glad that foal's aim was off. I think they get somethin' for hittin my aaaa…. backside." At least he's understandable now that he's talking to someone else, which means he wasn't totally raised in the wild. "Don't suppose ye've a hand at removin'…Ah hell, not like it's my first." With that, he twists the arrow and gives it a yank. "It's a good thing the youngin's don't use those barbed things the adults do."

"Well, it looks like I'm asking you, if you're willing to answer." Maura replies swiftly, giving the dog a quiet command to lead them closer to the injured Fox-person. "I've heard and said worse then ass, I promise. At least, I confess to it as long as there are no students around to hear me say it." The pair stop at a polite but closer distance, her lips pursing at the sight of the wound, and even wincing when he yanks the arrowhead out. "Youngins? Were you…" Her gaze darts towards the forest and then back. "Maybe I shouldn't ask. Why don't I just heal that up for you so you're not trailing blood everywhere." is offered in lieu of being more nosy.

"True enough. Well, if it's me yer askin, aye. Not walkin around leakin' vital fluids would be preferable." Taril shakes his head. "Nah, foals. The Centaurs don't take kindly to us runnin' through their parts of the forest, aye? But I'm not completely human, so we came to a deal. I don't retaliate for their foals usin' me as target practice from the shoulders down, and they don't try to make me into a pouch. Now, if I get one to the head from m'own ignorance, that's an entirely different matter."

"Yes, please god, we do not need anyone turned into a pouch." Maura barely breathes a little easier upon hearing this 'deal', which admittedly sounds quite fair given what is known about the Centaurs and all. "And how often do they use you for target practice?" And there's the tone of the irritated healer; he's practically /asking/ for injuries with his bargain and someone has to keep the puncture wounds healed. There could be injection! Blood everywhere! Agh! At least she does as promised while that irritated inner conversation plays across her face. Without bothering with the wand, the young woman traces the pattern it would take in the air and casts a simple "Episkey." to seal it right up.

Taril looks somewhat offended. "I'll have you know I'm quite wiley as a fox! Only happens once every few months at most. They do grow up, you know. Aim gets better. I'm providin' a valuable service." He nods in agreement with himself. "Ah, now that's the trick. Never was good at healin' magics, myself." Wanna bet it's because he couldn't sit still long enough to learn it? "Thank ye." He finally unloops the strap of his satchel from over his head and opens it up. "Worth it! Lookit these little beauties." It's then that he reaches into his pouch to pull out a smaller bag that opens to reveal a palm full of seeds. "Wiggentree seeds."

"I'm sure you are." Holding up her free hand to forestall any more offense at her comments, Maura rolls her eyes. Not even discreetly really. She can't help it. "I'm a healer, I have to ask. I'm unable to help myself. Ask around, I'm sure you'll hear I'm like an angry mother hen with the people who work for Morgan Securities." So it's not just him. She gets /worse/. And to her credit, her eyes do widen a little at the sight of the seeds. "Wiggentree seeds. Oh, I hope we have some Bowtruckles to guard them. That's fantastic! Woulda been worth being shot in the butt for those."

Taril grins. "Aye, worth arrows in most non vitals. If we can draw bowtruckles, it'll be almost as good as havin' a dozen willows. Reckon they've got better manners than the willow, too." See that look? He's taken a limb across the ass a time or two. That's what kind of look that is. "Think I'll be grateful for not bein a … security whatsits. Takin' an arrow're two's one thing, but it loses all its fun when folks get too serious. Besides, I'd be on the wrong end. I like t'get away with things." He pats his bag. "Like restockin' some vitals. I'll see about startin' the seeds and gettin' 'em through to a good size so we can plant 'em. Hope they don't get populated until after they're out of the greenhouse. Mollie'd never recover."

Maura has to think for a moment, brow furrowing before the light seems to go off. "Oh, whomping willows. They can be a little temperamental can't they?" she agrees, though she turns a very wry smile to him when he eclares himself lucky not to be a part of the security team. "That's exactly the kind of thing you don't say, if you don't want me giving you a hard time. Now I'm practically honor bound to give you a stern look every time I spot you with a reasonably avoidable injury." And she looks pleased about that too. "I'm marginally less stern than Madame Pomfrey though, so you can rest easy on that at least." Why, she sounds almost chipper about it now! And her curiousity prompts a, "Mollie?"

"Aye, you and every other responsible adult in my life." Taril says in mock exasperation. "Tempramental? That thing's mad." As her name is spoken a second time the tiny head of a pine marten pokes out of the bag. "…ye wee stow away!" He chides before half grinning. "That is Mollie. Best mouser in the greenhouse. Future owl snack if she's not more careful."

Ah, responsible adult. Words that are surely the kiss of death. Still, Maura turns into a nearly completely different person when Mollie pokes her head out of the bag she's in, because that was definitely a bit of a squee that made it past her lips. "So cute! You are just the most adorable thing, Mollie. This here is Starbuck." Nodding towards the dog, she volunteers him without skipping a beat. "If he's not with me, he's totally fair game to use as a free ride wherever you want to go." The dog, having no idea what he's being volunteered for, just knows he's been named. So he wags his tail happily before settling again.

"Don't tell her that. She already thinks she's the princess of the castle." Taril shakes his head and removes Mollie from the pouch. As pine marten's go, she's on the large side and has the look of intelligence about her. And of COURSE she knows when she's being made over so she plays to it. The dog earns a long look before she approaches and gives him a sniff. "Found 'er on Skye when I went back after graduation. Thought she was rabid at first. They don't take to people. But she was a young'en, and I reckoned she was orphaned and just desperate for food."

"Hello beautiful." Maura coos, paying no attention at all to Taril's admonition not to puff up the pet's ego. For his part, Starbuck just leans his snout all the way down slowly so he can sniff in return, and maybe nudge with his nose if there's no hissing or danger signs. "That's great. I bet the students here just love her, don't they?" She can imagine such an adorable creature being made much of. "What kind of treats does she like? If she's going to be a Mouser, she should have rewards for being a good one, right?"

Taril shakes his head but doesn't interfere. "Oh aye. Any plan I had to release her once she was old enough to hunt was over by my first week on. Can't complain, though. She's fair company and she eats the mice she catches, so there's no droppin' em in anyone's shoes." Thankful Mollie's not a kisser now? "She likes meat, like any meat eater, but they eat nuts and fruit. I bring her bits of this and that when I've been in the forest or when I've had time to stop in the kitchen. Some of the elves think she's the best thing ever walked."

"I hear that cats will leave the mice for people because they're trying to tell us we're awful hunters." Maura muses, apparently not squicked out by Mollie eating her rodent victims. "So that must mean she thinks you're a very fine hunter. If she were a cat, that is." Her lips quirk slightly, there. "We'll just have to have a pouch of dried nuts and fruits on hand for her." The little creature is given one more smile before her attention is back on Taril again. "I haven't even introduced myself, I'm sorry. I'm Maura Zehavi. And if you need another puncture healed, I'm usually found in the Hospital Wing."

"Oh! Forgot. M'used to most just knowin' me by the fact that there's a fox sliding to a halt." Taril grins. "Taril Mackinnon. An' thank ye for the mend! I'm pretty sure I've gotten my quota of mends this past few months, what with all the refugees." Mollie continues her inspection of the human and the dog and he grins. "Considerin' the amount of huntin' I did when she was a wee thing, she should! …but I think cats just think anythin' on two legs is lackin' in intelligence."

"You're welcome, Taril Mackinnon. I'm always glad to help." Even if on occasion there's a /look/ given, or a lecture given while she's doing it. "All the refugees, yes. And more to come." Taking in a breath, a quick nod and a slight smile are given. "I'll have to be on my way to check in, speaking of just that. My shift starts soon, and I have to drop off some potion ingredients with Professor Snape. Twas nice to meet you." There's a pause there, before her last dry parting words are… "Sometimes the cats are right, sadly. Sometimes, the cats are right."

"Aye, let me know if there's more ye need that we're runnin' short of. Won't pick the forest bare, but I'll get what I can." Taril could be just looking for an excuse, but his plant samples are in good, growing or rooting condition. "Oh aye. More often than I'd like." He reaches down to pick up Mollie and draper over his shoulder. "Come on, ya wee bandit."



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